Yosemite at Night.

Exactly at this time a week ago, I dragged my two friends out of the campsite and around the Valley. I wanted to take pictures of the granite cliffs and waterfalls, all possible thanks to the glow of the three-quarter moon. Here's one...



It was night. It was foggy. It was freezing, almost literally. There was not a soul out there with us. We stood there, in that, unfortunately, now only nearly wild place. Uncomfortable. Cold. Scared. Scared of the dark, of what might come out of the fog, of that unidentified white object floating down the river towards us. In a petty situation like this I was able to stop and realize, this is all worth it. All of these things I would change given the chance and power actually make the situation more beautiful, more memorable. Beauty has depth you see. It's the despair and discomfort of things that bring true beauty to the situation. Real beauty. Beauty that's worth it.

Maybe I use the word beauty too much, I don't really care. The point is, how can I realize this same thing in situations that carry a little more gravity? How can I be grateful for the very things that I would change given the power and opportunity?