Nurturing a Reputation

   An employee inspected a painting for physical defects. He scrutinized the frame and hanging hardware. Imperfections were recorded. His condition report was prepared in a storage room at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Massachusetts.
   The artwork was on loan from another collection. By recording defects upon the painting's arrival, the museum could not be accused of causing defects. The institution's reputation--and to some extent the man's reputation--would remain intact.
   The employee left the room for a spell. I felt uncomfortable being there alone. Next to me were racks of artwork in movable storage slots (seen in the background of the photo). They housed Norman Rockwell originals. If new imperfections were ever discovered on those paintings, suspicion might fall on me. My reputation would be compromised.
   Was my concern far fetched? Perhaps. But I'm sure other photographers would react as I did.
   Reputations require nurturing. In the blink of an eye, a reputation can be damaged.

Nuance and Navigation

   Snowshoeing across a swamp is a lesson in nuance.
   I walk on gray ice instead of dark ice. It's safer. The darkness is water visible under ice.
   Wide open ice is safer than ice beside plants and trees.
   Snowpacks are sturdier in bright places than where shade prevails. That's because melting snow from the sun hardens overnight.
   Following animal tracks is a good way to get through thickets.
   Sometimes gray ice-the safest--breaks without warning. That possibility is not an excuse to stay home. Swamp water is rarely deep enough to drown in. You boots will get wet. Bring extra socks.
   Navigating through a swamp is akin to navigating through life. People who best interpret nuances, including nuances of human behavior, go the farthest.

Hole in ice from snowshoe.

Elite Performances

 
   A youth chorus sang The National Anthem. Their rendition blew away any version I'd heard before. A symphonic band followed them. The concert happened at Symphony Hall in Boston.
   The singers and musicians hailed from high schools. They were elite among their peers. Blind auditions determined who joined the chorus and band. Talent judges weren't swayed by biases.
   The word elite gets a bad rap. It's lumped together with elitism and elitist.  Or it's associated with power, wealth, and privilege.
   Elite attitudes deserve scorn. Elite performances deserve admiration.

Separate Yet Together

   Does a sense of community improve one's chances of success?
   I photographed a man whose company provided office spaces to entrepreneurs. Most of his tenants were tech innovators from the Boston area. They were starting businesses from scratch.
   They worked in rooms along a corridor. Common spaces included eating areas, conference rooms, copy machines, and so forth.
  Compare this setting to starting a business from one's home. Money is saved by staying put. Working at home avoids commuting hassles.
  My sense is that an office setting with like minded people is preferable. Camaraderie develops.  Contacts get made. Sometimes contacts lead to future opportunities.
   I am a photographer penning a novel. Unlike photography, writing is a lonely endeavor. Hours are spent alone in my attic. It'd be cool if someone created an office setting for writers. For a modest price, I'd rent a space where other writers toil. Fellowship would bolster my resolve.
   Camaraderie improves the odds of success.

Epicenter of a Storm

A shawl of snow covers a statue of Saint Francis Xavier at a shine in Massachusetts.

   Four centuries of struggle contributed to a cruel irony.
   The story begins with Saint Francis Xavier. He and his Jesuits introduced Christianity to Japan. It happened during the 1500's.
   Later in that century, persecutions of Christians began. During a mass crucifixion, the victims sang and prayed. Spectators came to respect them. The official in charge was mortified by this reaction. Rather than tamping down Christianity, the execution enhanced the image of that faith.
   Over two centuries later, a visitor from France made a discovery. Thousands of holdout Christians were practicing their faith. Many lived in the Urakami Valley. They did so under the radar of the authorities.
   The Urakami Valley grew into a city. Christians were eventually permitted to worship. They built Saint Mary's Cathedral. It became the epicenter of Catholic faith in Japan.
   Here's the irony: A pilot flew over the valley. He and his crew were Christians. He noticed the cathedral through a break in the clouds. He steered over it. An order was given. A bomb was dropped.
  The atomic blast incinerated Nagasaki. Saint Mary's Cathedral was reduced to ash and rubble.
  Hiroshima was also targeted. A group of four men survived near the epicenter of that blast. They worked at a Catholic church. Some people believe their survival was a miracle.
   The survivors were Jesuit priests.

Fearing Strangers

   The cattle got nervous.  Their walking pace sped up. Some of them strayed too far into the road. Their cowboy handlers--driving ATV's and trucks--looked worried.
   It was rural South Dakota. The cows were moving from one pasture to another. They had probably walked that road dozens of times. But this day was different. A stranger--me--had appeared nearby. The cows were spooked. I worried they might stampede.
   People, like cattle, are naturally wary of strangers. This fear is built into our hard wiring. Fear of strangers is unpleasant but necessary to survival.
   Back home, I've stood behind curtains and eyed strangers passing by on the sidewalk. I'd thought to myself, What's wrong with me, lurking in shadows and staring at people? Nothing is wrong me with. We all must behave that way in our neighborhoods.
   I backed away from the cattle. They settled down. 

Racing Against Time

   On three occasions this week, I was reminded of my mortality.
   Driving by a cemetery, I noticed a burial hole dug for someone new.
  On Ash Wednesday, a priest rubbed ashes on my forehead. He said, "Remember you are dust and unto dust you shall return."
   A newspaper article cited research about the fear of death. It asserted that devoutly religious people fear death the least.
   For me, a devout Roman Catholic, the article rings true. But there's a caveat. What scares me the most isn't dying per se. What scares me is dying before I've pursued goals that would please God.
   Not all goals are achieved. God must know this. Surely he appreciates souls who had pursued worthy goals even if they hadn't achieved them. 
   Better to die walking on a righteous path than standing on it.

Synergy of Emotion and Logic

   Fear stopped me dead in my snowshoe tracks. A crack had formed in the ice ahead of me. I noticed it while exploring a swamp. The emotion of fear warned me to turn back.
   Logic weighed in. It surmised the ice still might be safe. If so, I should continue forward.  
   I took baby steps. The ice held firm. Onward I hiked.
   Emotions and logic seem to compete with each other. But if you think about, they compliment each other.