LOCALadk Magazine

LOCALadk 23 Be Still Photos and Article By Mark Anderson Tranquility. Calm. Placidity. Stillness. These are all words that I believe we long for in the times that we live. There is something deep within our souls that seeks a deeper sense of peace and quiet in a world that seems to be getting louder and busier by the day. No matter how much we try to resist its influence over our lives, the over-productive and consumeristic culture and society we live in seems to reach its tentacles out, grabbing hold of our hearts and minds, trying to coax us into a faster pace of living. If we fall victim to its beckoning, we never really become fully satisfied with anything. Even on social media, the name of the game is now shorter content, quicker swipes, resulting in a bite-sized approach to life. Over time, we begin to view it all through that lens. But it doesn't have to be this way. I have always welcomed the changing of seasons here in New York. It has a way of causing excitement, expectation, and a change of pace in life, and for the better. Although autumn tends to be my favorite, the coming calm of winter every year is something that my soul often needs the most. When the first snowfall blankets the land, it almost feels like nature lets out a deep exhale as one who has worked a long and difficult period of time and can now slow down and breathe a little deeper. This same feeling is something that has an effect on people, including myself. Even the colors of the landscape become more subdued. The vibrancy di- minishes, the vivacity of the wildlife lessens, and there is a quiet that comes over the earth. As time seems to stand still, it is the perfect opportunity to capture these moments. Just recently, I was out in the High Peaks Wilderness for a day on Tabletop and Phelps Mountain, as part of a photo journal project I am working on to capture the heart of the Adirondack Park. This time of year, the amount of people hiking and recreating in this area wanes pretty significantly. I found myself alone for more than half of the day which added to the growing feeling of solitude. I walked through the dark forest in the early morning hours with snowfall breaking through the trees, coating the path before me all the way to Marcy Dam. As I continued on, the flowing sound of Phelps Brook and the gentle wind grazing the trees filled the air. After stopping to take a few photos of the early morning hours, I continued on the trail with the soundtrack of crunching microspikes digging into the cold mountain floor beneath me.

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