Noticing What Coexists

I was out early this morning, standing on the small bridge over the Matanzas just west of the Vilano Bridge.  It was cold - around forty-five degrees - but calm.  The bridge was empty.  No fishermen, no boats moving through the channel.  Just still water, quiet air, and the soft reflections of the docks to the south when the surface cooperated.

The sky was beginning to warm with color, that familiar muted orange that makes mornings feel generous before the day even begins.

And then I noticed something that stopped me.

Along the power lines that run parallel to the bridge, fishing line had collected and tangled over time.  A seagull had landed there and become trapped, its feet caught in the line.  The bird was exhausted, struggling to lift itself, attempting to fly only to be held back by something it couldn’t understand.  It no longer had the strength to reach the line to roost.

I couldn’t watch for long.  My eyes welled, and I had to turn away.

I don’t share this to be morbid.  I share it because moments like this remind me of the fullness of the world around us.  Beauty and suffering often exist side by side, sometimes in the same frame.  The calm water, the glowing sky, the stillness of the morning - all of it was there, unchanged by what was happening just feet away.

Noticing one made the other impossible to ignore.

Photography has trained me to pay attention.  To slow down.  To observe not just what’s pleasing, but what’s real.  The act of noticing doesn’t fix anything, but it does deepen gratitude.  It sharpens awareness.  It reminds me that beauty is not diminished by suffering - it is made more precious by contrast.

This morning was a quiet reminder of that truth.  Of how fragile life can be.  Of how important it is to remain present.  Of why I feel compelled to stand still, to look carefully, and to hold moments gently when I can.

The world offers us beauty every day.  Sometimes it also asks us to acknowledge what hurts.  Both deserve to be seen.