So on a recent trip to New Mexico, I carried my digital camera with me nearly everywhere I went. The strap slung over my shoulder, or camera in hand, I was ready to go.One evening for a reason somewhat unknown to me, I decided to leave my camera in the motel. I suppose on some level it was a matter of “one less thing” to lug around and keep track of as we zigzagged through the streets of santa fe. Maybe it was partly the idea of just living the experience, rather than tracking it. but in spite of that, it was a big mistake.
As we drove towards santa fe, the afternoon showers segueyed into rain. The sun kept its stronghold in the sky and the result was astonishing. Deep azure blue, ever moving and changing pale grey to charcoal clouds, areas of misty white floating across the sky, and amidst all this--like an ancient wisdom that broke
through the chaos, the calm and gradual emergence of a double rainbow the likes of which I’ve never seen or imagined. Image upon image confounded my vision. The colors—not just of the rainbows themselves, but the sky canvas upon which they were painted were of an intensity that seemed almost impossible. This was especially true when the bands were superimposed on the highway or buildings--like a sheet of brightly colored cellophane. i had never seen anything like this--real or imagined and without sounding too pessimistic believe i never will again--at least not in this lifetime. 
In some ways, I wanted the images to stop being so beautiful. So that I could justify my decision to leave the camera behind. And could even dismiss the beauty of what I had seen so far as being somehow part of my imagination. But I realized how ridiculous that was and gave in to the moment and lived it. I did manage to take pictures, countless ones in fact. I have no tangible record, of course. So you may not even believe me. But I can play them back anytime at all. The thing is--they're only for me.
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