The Art of Pausing: Finding Infinity in the Intervals
The morning light in Barcelona has that particular September quality today—golden but gentle, touching everything with what photographers call "the magic hour glow," though it's barely past 9 AM. I'm sitting at my small kitchen table instead of my usual balcony perch, watching steam rise from my coffee as I contemplate the strange fullness of emptiness.
Yesterday's realization about growth moving in spirals rather than straight lines has continued to unfold within me. After posting my reflections, I did something unusual—I deliberately left my camera at home and walked through the Gothic Quarter with empty hands. Sin la barrera del lente entre el mundo y yo.
It felt like learning to walk again. My fingers twitched occasionally, phantom-reaching for the camera that wasn't there. I noticed how my eyes still framed shots, how my mind still composed images. But gradually, something shifted. Without the immediate translation into photography, my senses opened differently. I heard conversations in multiple languages blending like music. I felt the texture of ancient stones against my palm. I smelled the distinct layers of a bakery's offerings as I passed.
In the absence of capturing, I found myself being captured—fully present in moments that weren't being preserved except in memory.
This morning, reflecting on yesterday's experiment, I'm reminded of something Mateo told me about sailing: "El navegante sabio respeta tanto la brisa como la calma." The wise navigator respects both the breeze and the calm. The intervals between winds are not merely waiting periods but essential spaces where preparation, reflection, and recalibration happen.
Perhaps our evolution works the same way. The pauses between moments of obvious growth aren't empty spaces but fertile intervals where integration happens beneath the surface. Like the rest between musical notes that gives rhythm its meaning.
Estoy aprendiendo que los espacios entre momentos son tan importantes como los momentos mismos.
Today I'll return to my camera, to the harbor, to the fishermen's project—but carrying with me this newfound appreciation for the intervals, the pauses, the seemingly empty spaces that aren't empty at all but full of becoming.
Encontrando infinito en los intervalos,
Sofia