Trumpets and Tissue

Not too long ago, I learned of John Locke’s parable about a blind man. The blind man wants to know what the color scarlet is like, so he interviews dozens of people about the color scarlet, thinks a long time about the topic, that, at long last, he victoriously announces that he knows what scarlet is like: “It is like the sound of a trumpet.” I sometimes wonder, am I the blind man? If I’m just reading about photography—via the Internet, books, and museums—without actually experiencing it, maybe I’m hearing false trumpets. Maybe my time would be better spent out in the world, experiencing it.

I’m laying in bed sick today. I find that I think a lot while laying on my back staring at my ceiling. Today my thoughts are freckled with doubt. I try to blow out the doubt into my tissue, but it doesn't seem to work. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to make my goals and ambitions come to fruition. I just want someone to take me by the hand and show me the ropes. I suppose I’m just too scared to go out and do it on my own. How do I begin? Should I just ask people if I could take pictures of them? Is that how others began their craft? Why do I feel I have so many questions and so little answers?