What I learned about the thin line between me and my future self

.004 inches.

That’s all there was.

Nothing but two words on a scant 8.5 inches on one side against 11 on the other.

Be something.

I don’t know why I wrote it. It was just a whisper in my mind, but I knew what it meant. A point zero zero four inch divide between the me I was and the me I wasn’t.

It had been one of those days. You know the type, where you have the time, you have the energy, and you have no excuse in the world not to get something done. Anything. But the clock keeps on ticking. 10:00. 11:00. Noon. Afternoon. And still nothing to show for it. Finally, at 3:43, I pulled out the paper and asked the question.

“What do you want to be?”

I don’t know where it came from. Maybe it was a self-help book. Maybe it was the same stray thought that had been rattling around in my head since I was a little kid trying to figure out just what it is grown-ups are supposed to do with their lives.

Whatever triggered it, one thing was clear. If you think you want to be something, you don’t think you are something. And when those words stare right back at you on a monolithic sheet of 20 pound, 92 bright white laser paper, you can’t help but wonder “Why haven’t I gotten there?”

Mind you, I don’t know exactly what being something is supposed to look like. I know it’s not fame and fortune, though I wouldn’t complain about more recognition or a bump in my pay grade. I know it’s not awards or accolades, though I’d proudly post any such mention on my wall.

It’s more a feeling in my gut. I know I picked up a camera for a reason. I know something pulled me in, and something got me going. I quit my job and did this thing I’m doing, and it surely can’t all be for nothing.

But there it was in plain, black ink poured straight out of my heart onto the paper.

Be something.

Now, pictures are powerful things. Forget Jedi mind control. The camera is even better. It has the ability to shape the world, define our memories, and reveal our inner workings.

Don’t believe me? Just take a look at the images in anyone’s feed, and see how long it takes to stitch together who they are and what they’re about. In seconds, with no trace of conscious thought, you’ll know if they’re outlandish, restrained, arty, witty, sarcastic, or sincere. Look more, and you’ll know their hobbies, travels, and tastes. You’ll even start to decide whether or not you like them. All with barely an effort.

And as photographers, it gets better, because we can not only say these things with our images, we can control what we say and how we say it. Even a lot of the least crafted photos are full of implication and suggestion. The best are a sledgehammer.

More than anything, I wanted to say something – to learn something, to see something – to share what I thought and felt, and, hopefully, along the way, feel like I was adding something to other people’s lives.

In truth, I know why it hadn’t come together. I was perfectly content not being something, so long as I had an out. Some reason, some excuse to say I couldn’t get it done, because I had other things that were more important to do. Too many bills to pay, mouths to feed – as long as I could tell myself I had what it takes, but it just never came together.

But that wasn’t belief. That was delusion. A short sell meant to cover a long life. Much too long to stay this particular course.

I believe in inner selves and the person inside. It may not be that mythical something that’s the stuff of novels or legend. It may be nothing more than one small voice among dozens in the convoluted slurry of impressions and ideas that make up our lives. But at any given time, there’s something we want to do and want to be, and there’s something everyone else wants us to do and wants us to be, and it’s usually not too hard to figure which is which.

All you need to do is draw a line on a sheet of paper. Look back with the eyes of your future-self at a time when it’s all said and done. What would you like to be able to say you did? Write that on one side. Then write what you’re doing right now on the other side. Do these two things connect?

Yeah, photography is powerful stuff. It’s better than a chance to be something. It’s a chance to be you. But if you’ve picked up a camera and you believe in the image, you probably already knew that. And if the connection between the two sides of that line is just a little murky, ask yourself “What’s stopping you?” Whatever it may be, odds are, it’s not reason enough.

It was 7:12 when got up from my chair to head home. By now, there were books strewn across the desk and magazines on the floor – an inspiration board of images and thoughts for tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow. I was about to turn off the lights, when it hit me. I had it wrong. I ran back to that sheet of paper, I scratched out the word “something” and replaced it with “you.”

Be something you

I crumpled it up and tossed it the trash. I realized I already was.