Stepping back to get a different view

Dad and I had driven to Yosemite for a fire ecology class given by a professor emeritus from UC Berkeley.  There was a chance of rain, but this was an ecology class and we were tough, so we wouldn’t let a little rain stop us. 

As we drove up the Merced River Canyon, rain poured down in torrential buckets.  I wondered how we’d get the tent set up in this downpour, but I knew that, once inside we’d be fine, so long as we stayed away from the sides of the tent.  We got to the campground and saw tents - some standing, some fallen over.  Water was flowing through the campsites in rushing rivelets.  We found the campers huddled in the restroom, wet bodies trying to sleep on top of each other on the cold, hard cement floor.

Hmm.  For once it seemed appropriate to get a room.  The only rooms available were free-standing,  one-room units at Yosemite Lodge.  We grabbed our stuff and tromped through the rain.  Dad pulled open the sliding glass door and we waded inside.  He closed the curtains and we slept, warm, dry and toasty. 

The next morning, I woke to the sound of drapes being pulled open.  As the curtains swayed back, there, through the sliding glass doors, lay a wonderous world of pristine white.  Framed by the wall of windows, Half Dome rose above the valley floor against a brilliant blue sky.

We dressed quickly and went to explore.  The only tracks were those of creatures that hadn’t quite made it into hibernation yet, and those of pine cones and acorns sent scurrying from the trees by the weight of the snow on the limbs.  I walked out into the clearing to get a full view of Tisiak, the face on Half Dome.  As I raised my camera, Dad watched me adjust the settings against the glare of the snow, then beckoned me back to take another shot.

“Take 2 steps back and see what you think,” he directed me.  This time, as I raised my camera, Tisiak gleamed above the spectacular valley, framed by green limbs aching with dollops of whipped cream.  “Just a small change in position can make such a big change in the way we see things.”  I took the shot.

Changing perspective.  Looking at situations in a new way.  Such a small change can make such a big change in the way we see things.  Standing inside the arch of the tree limbs, my picture was protected against the glare of the snow, the light softened, the tree limbs framing and bringing attention to the magnificence of Half Dome.  The rain, which had been such a hazard and obstacle the night before, had left behind a wonderous world of pristine white, begging to be explored; lifting cares away.

Change of perspective.  What good could come of this?  What wonders will there be on the other side?