Image is everything.

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography

“Image is everything.”  This was a slogan used by the professional tennis player Andre Agassi in the late 80’s early 90’s for a Canon commercial.  How ironic that this seems to be the mantra of society today.

I recently had a correspondence with someone about this very topic and more specifically how it impacts one’s goals.  My perception is the person has the drive and desire to reach a certain role status at work, live in a certain type house (both cost-based and location-based), and maintains a physical appearance to portray a certain image.  Now, this is 100% speculation but I know it to be true for many people.  I recently told this person to re-examine their goals and truly decide why they are striving towards them.  Is it to satisfy family, is to satisfy a significant other, or to prove something to society?  If any of these are the case, then those dreams/goals are being pursued the wrong reason.

Today is Easter Sunday.  As I head out for my normal hike this morning I cannot help but notice that the few churches I pass on my route are much busier than normal.  I truly wonder how many are there for image sakes.  As a non-practicing Catholic, I gave up going to church long ago.  I am closer now to God than I have ever been, but my methods of communicating and celebrating him are my own.  As a Catholic, I felt forced to follow ritualistic traditions that I rarely paid attention too, not even knew why I was doing them.  The mass consisted of the same prayers, sit/kneel/stand, with only the Bible reading and Homily varying.  In most cases, I saw people nodding off during the Homily, the one thing that was important and different from the consistent chats of a Catholic mass.  I have learned over my years that most people that call themselves religious go to mass on Easter, Christmas, during weddings and pay more attention to God when someone is very sick, dying or has died.  Otherwise, God appears to have very little value in their lives, but they would never admit that.  Again I am glad folks at least attempt to go to church and even the attempt to follow God but do they know why they are doing so?  Growing up Catholic and even today I see people act and behave awfully on Saturday night and are there in church on Sunday morning with expectations that they are doing the right thing and a good Christians.  This may seem judgmental but it is more explaining why I don’t attend formal church masses anymore and have my methods to live, love and communicate with God.

Today’s hike for me was a struggle.  I hiked close to 5 miles yesterday and stubbed my toe on a formidable rock on the return trip.  Today I felt that pain with every step and it made my trek a lot slower and more painful than I expected.  However, I was in my happy place and that is all that mattered.  Being a slower pace today, as mentioned my toe throbbed but also my legs didn’t have the stamina nor flexibility I normally have.  Today I did close to 4 miles but at a slower pace and with one stop along the way.  Mt. St. Francis has benches placed along many of the trails with plaques dedicated to loved ones that have passed.  I rarely ever stop at these benches but today I did take a moment to do so.  One particular bench is at the bottom of trail three headed towards the dam at the other side of the lake.  There is a giant tree stump next to the bench where the plague is placed, which is different than all the others.  I sat my backpack and camera down, sat in the middle of the bench, stretched out my arms and took several deep breaths.  I closed my eyes and just listened.  The faint call of geese and ducks echoed across the lake before they reached my ears, the trees swayed in the wind with a slight whistle, and the dam off in the distance roared form the consistent waters that flowed over its bank.  I took some time to forget my physical pain and prayed to God.  I thanked him for all he has blessed me with, for sacrificing his son for mankind and taking some time to think of those that I have lost in my life.  I stayed for a few more minutes, wiped away the tears, collected my gear and moved on.

I continued across the dam and then on to the spillway.  To the right the lake was black and looked like a sheet of glass, reflecting the trees, clouds and blue sky.  The water gave no clue to its contents nor depth adding to the eeriness factor.  To the left was a man-made concrete wall that carried thousands of gallons of water from the lake down into a flowing creek below.  The spillway was about fifteen feet in length with a guide rope in place for safety and I utilized that today.  I soon reached the other side and was back on solid ground.

I soon found myself in one of the many fields on the property sloshing through the soaked covered ground until I reached the other part of the field.  As I reached trail six I turned left and entered back into the woods.  By this time the dull dreary day had begun to change.  The clouds slowly began to park and the sun helped to cast long shadows in the woods.  These shadows appeared to be dancing as the wind gently blew the trees from side to side.  This was the moment I could first feel the warmth of the sun on my neck.   Trail six lead me down to a creek that I crossed and then turned east toward trail eight.  The sun was now hitting me directly in the face and I closed my eyes for a moment to soak up the warmth as it delicately warmed up my cheeks.

I reached the intersection of trail eight and nine and stopped to roll up my sleeves and remove my hat.  The cool breeze felt refreshing on my head that was slightly covered with sweat.  I moved down trail none, and eventually, ten that lead to the furthest west of the property.  The trail was flooded and I found myself traversing the woods more than the actual trail form most of the hike eastwardly back toward my car.  I stopped on two different bridges listening to the babbling brooks below me and soon found myself back at the dam and waterfall.  I crossed the area and headed back to the front side of the lake.  As I made the slow climb back to my car I heard the church bells summoning the patrons to their rightful places, while I was headed to my car and home to a shower.

As I drove away I passed a few folks in their Easter dress, with large hats, dress, and suits.  The kids all gussied up to be presentable.  Again my thoughts drifted to “Image is everything.” And I truly hoped everyone was there for the right reasons, and not as the thing to do.  My mass was complete and I was heading home.  My Sunday best was my muddy boots, North Face pants with mud stains showing where they intersected with my boots, Columbia shirt that showed signs of sweat and a backpack almost empty of water.  My camouflage Boonie hat hung from my neck, while I’m sure the sun easily displayed the sweat beads on my bald head.  My mostly gray beard was far from neat or combed.  If “Image is everything” then I am not sure what my image is portraying but I am certainly content with it.

Until next time,

Tim