PBW: Taking Steps

Last Saturday I took advantage of a break in the rain to make it to a small local beach where I took several photographs, including the one above. Though my time out there caused a relapse in a cold I was nearly over, and I've spent the last few days with shortness of breath and bad cough deep in my lungs, I have no regrets. Each day I feel a little better than I did the day before. Progress, real progress of any kind, takes steps. When I feel overwhelmed by my job, it's important to take a step back, breath, and tackle one thing at a time. When any great task is subdivided into smaller ones, it's suddenly behind rather than before you, and doesn't seem as daunting as it did from the other side.

I like the symbolism of this photo as a gateway between worlds. At the top of those steps there's a parking lot, paved asphalt with painted, albeit fading, lines. Some of the homes on the neighboring estates are visible, and there are telephone poles and electrical wires running the length of it. That day, my car was the only vehicle there but on better days I expect the lot still fills up. At the top of those steps is the modern world, the “real” world. It's where time is foe to keep a close eye on, where actions have consequences. It's full of pitfalls and detours. At any given time, a phone call could result in extra work while a supervisor is out of the office. Without warning, a fire drill can occur at an inopportune moment, robbing an individual of his first chance to use the bathroom. That place is unpredictable.

At the bottom of the steps however, there's no traffic and no interference. The ground isn't hard and paved, but soft and fine. The air is clear and nearby waves lap against moss-covered rocks. Time is meaningless. Phone call interruptions are nonexistent, provided one keeps his cell phone firmly turned off. At the bottom of those steps is a pocket reality where hours can go by only to find less than one hour has passed in the world at the top of those steps.

When I was a boy, there was a wooden cabinet built into my wall with shelves and two hinged doors on the bottom section. My mother called it my “Forbidden Closet” and she would put toys in there I was not to play with, such as a drum or a cap gun. It couldn't be locked, but something about the name kept me on the honor system. I was well into my teen years before I finally started using the space to store other things, and started enjoying those forbidden toys from my youth. One of the best dreams I ever had, maybe when I was 9 or 10, involved that cabinet. In my dream, I awoke in the dark to see a glow coming from between the doors. I opened them, something I had never done in the real world, and saw the steps leading to my basement. At the bottom of those steps I found one of my local beaches, not the one I visited this past weekend but the one I visited the week prior. My friends were there and people were playing volleyball and frisbee, and I think I even knew how to swim in the dream. I spent a lifetime at that beach in the wall of my room but when I woke up, I'm sure the dream itself had only accounted for 15 minutes of my night. This photo reminds me of that dream.