Moving and Mindfulness

We live in an age of constant distraction, our attention pulled between past and future. With a house move approaching, I’m finding that the ability to rest fully in the present moment is a rare luxury. It’s little wonder, given that a recent study by Compare My Move ranked moving home as the third most stressful life event – behind losing a loved one, which came first, and both caring for a sick relative and going through a divorce, which tied for second. At times like this, I’m grateful for photography. It reminds me to pause, to notice, to simply be. Through the lens, I slow down, look more closely, and reconnect with what’s in front of me. In that mindful stillness, calm returns, and the stresses of packing and planning fade – something for which I’m deeply thankful.

Old Friend - Lochan na Dunaich, Sunart, Moidart

​Mindfulness, that gentle art of anchoring ourselves in the present, has never felt more essential. Through photography, it offers a quiet stillness amid the relentless tasks and stresses of preparing for the house move. When out with my camera, I’m reminded to slow down, to notice, and to reconnect with what is here and now. Photographing the oakwoods that surround my current home calls for full attention to the moment. In the act of seeing, framing, and simplifying compositions within the woodland’s chaos – just as with this month’s image of a twisted oak, aglow in its gloriously golden autumn foliage – I find a much-cherished sense of calm.
 
Perhaps this is why photography has become more than a hobby for me. It is a way of caring for my own mind. Human emotions are complicated, but at heart, we all want the same thing: fewer negative feelings and more positive ones. The challenge is that, while emotions are experienced in the present, their triggers often come from elsewhere. Regret and guilt drag us into the past, while anxiety and fear rush us forward into imagined futures. By contrast, the moments when we feel most alive – curiosity, contentment, excitement – arrive when we are wholly engaged with the present. Photography draws me back to this place, time and again.
 
There is something profoundly soothing about the act of framing a picture. Scenes often feel chaotic at first – too much clutter, too many distractions. But as I shift position or refine the composition, the confusion resolves into balance. With my mind focussed on this, stresses disappear and anxiety unravels. Composing an image becomes a quiet form of self-alignment, a way of finding order both outside and within.
 
Photography has also taught me to accept impermanence. Light changes, clouds drift, people move. No moment lasts long. Sometimes I miss the shot, and that is fine – the act of noticing was enough. Other times I catch it, and the photograph becomes a reminder of what it felt like to be fully present. A reminder that calm can be found simply by being in the moment.
 
I find myself slowing down when I photograph. In an age that urges speed and encourages short attention spans, this feels almost rebellious. I might wait for the light to shift, wander quietly through a woodland, or stand still until a scene reveals itself. These pauses give space for the mind to rest, for breath to deepen, for time to lose its urgency. In these moments, only seeing remains. It is mindfulness by another name.
 
Time and time again, I find that my photography is less about the images I make and more about the way it teaches me to see. Each picture records not just the world, but also my state of mind when I took it. It is a practice of presence, a quiet conversation between eye, mind, and moment. Through it, I am reminded time and time again to be in the present and to let the stresses and worries of what might be disappear. Well, at least for a while.