In photography, the best shots usually come with the best light: shortly after sunrise and the hour before sunset. At this time of day, everything looks magical. Everything looks beautiful. The light diffuses the world with warmth and a special ethereal glow. Everything is simple and clear for one. magical. hour. every day. The golden hour.
Because I am not a morning person, my golden hour is the hour before sunset.
I spend my day at the office focusing on facts, analysis, crafting legal arguments. I deal with petty office politics, avoid those I don't care for, and court favor with those I do. I attend committee meetings and client meetings and depositions and hearings. I write briefs, pleadings and professional articles. I take client calls and conference calls. I scour contracts for loopholes and alternative language.
My day is added up in 6 minute increments and ruthlessly accounted for. I can tell you how much time I spend in the bathroom or getting tea every day.
There are times when I love my job. When I win an argument, come up with an original legal theory, or outmaneuver another lawyer, I feel a special pride in using my analytical brain to the best of my ability. The lure of competition, of winning, is heady.
After the glow of victory fades and I realize that I am still in the same place, doing the same thing, for the same people, and that I've changed nothing in the world, I often realize that I need something more.
My brain, and the special way it works, is indeed a gift. But I have other gifts I've ignored or suppressed for so long because they've never been encouraged or valued by the world or those around me. Because these gifts are impractical and unlikely to make me money or guarantee my future in the world.
So, when I come home from work and my boys greet me like puppies, jumping and climbing and barking for my attention, I park my worries and ambitions and analytical brain at the door. We go outside and run and play. We climb and chase and blow bubbles and giggle.
I enjoy these simple moments and just feel. I feel the scratch of grass and sand on my feet; the sting of mosquitoes; sticky hands in mine; the still, heavy air, infused with the smell of charred wood; wet kisses on my cheek; the weight of the lens in my hand, the camera against my brow; the damp, sweet scent of boy; and the beautiful golden light.
For one perfect hour every day the future of my current path does not exist. There is only now. With my children, and my family, and my life. Filled with every blessing a girl a woman could want. Surrounded by golden light, simple, clear and true.
I go to bed every night knowing that I will determine my future. I will make my own path. I will jump off the cliff.
Because in the golden hour, everything seems possible, everything seems clear, everything is reflected in the shimmering light. Every future looks beautiful.
