Looking Through Your Own Lens

Our overnight boat cruise of 58 passengers in Fjordlands National Park was setting sail out of the glacially-formed, remote Doubtful Sound in New Zealand, into the Tasman Sea. To get here, we had taken a 45 minute cruise in a catamaran across Lake Manapouri, followed by a 45 minute bus ride over the steepest commercial road in New Zealand, through dense rainforests across Wilmot Pass. We were nowhere close to anyone.

“Wow, we only get a few days out of the season when we can go this far into the sea”, our captain said, as we soaked in the ocean breeze, staring over the water becoming illuminated with the setting sun. “Someone here must have done something good for this”. The Fjordlands National Park is one of the wettest places on earth getting 7 meters of rain a year, with over 200 rain-days a year. All we had that February day was bright blue sky.

Our luck was continuing as the naturalist on board alerted us of seals ahead bathing on surrounding rocks. Everyone rushed to the boat, mobile phones in hand to capture any bit of video or photos of this wonder: seeing seals in their natural habitat.

---

I could already feel that tension of whether or not to take a photo or just soak it in.

---

I love to tell stories, so it is hard for me to just sit and soak it in. I want to share this wonder with my family and friends who are not able to be sitting with me and also to better savor it again in the future with a visual reminder.

Not long after we saw the seals, we learned that Bottlenose dolphins were nearby. What luck! At first they were out in the distance, where we saw just small glimpses of grey, sleek bodies poking out of the water causing a splash.

Slowly we saw more and more splashes, not sure if the dolphins had told their friends about their requested evening performance or if we just finally learned what to look for. It was not long before we saw 10 to 20 splashes getting closer and closer to our boat. They were coming right for us.

Soon we had several dolphins traveling parallel with the boat and their friends. They were so playful, rising up and swimming down, speeding through the currents. You could sense their passion as they streamed through the water, up and down. We were in their home, and they were thrilled to give us a warm welcome show.

Again, I quickly felt that tension. Take a picture. Take a video. How can I get that captured on film? Should I just sit and admire? I could sense that I was not alone in this dilemma, as phones went up and down, trying to balance between both. Capturing this for others, for the future or recording this just for us, right here and now in our own memories. “Just sit and watch”, I could hear one of our friends advise. So I sat and just embraced the moment of watching these playful dolphins, living carefree in their sea haven.

The following morning, our boat traveled up into the quiet Hall Arm of the sound, for a ‘moment of silence’. As we pulled up facing the carpeted green fjord, the fjord’s mirror image flipped onto the still water, the captain said he was going to turn off the engine and the generator. He asked us to sit down and not move for 10 minutes. He wanted us to soak all this beauty in, in silence.

“Put your phones down. I promise you after 10 minutes, the scenery here is still going to look just as breathtaking”, our captain directed. How thankful I was that I was given no option. I zipped up my pocket after stowing my phone.

---

“Look through your own lens”, he advised.

---

As the engines sounds sputtered to silence, I surveyed the scene before me and then closed my eyes. As if an orchestra, on cue, I could hear there were waterfalls. I had not noticed them before we stopped. Next, cued the birds. I could hear a distance bird call to my left. One to the center. Then another unique one to the right as the conductor announced their entrances. A whole orchestra was at our feet, just waiting to be heard once we turned down our noise.

After our ten minutes of meditation, the engines slowly started up and the boat slowly took up speed. The orchestra of nature was now covered up again as we sailed away.

As I reflected on that experience in Doubtful Sound, I could only come back to the world ‘balance’. Is it crucial that we turn off the noise in our life so we can hear the music around us? Absolutely. Is there value in sharing pictures of life wonders with those who are not able to be there? Absolutely. Is there value to create visuals to enhance your future recall of incredible life experiences? Absolutely. It is a balance. If one pulls you too far in the other direction, your scale will tip. It is a balance.

Life is always a balance.