What I’m finding to be the truths, at least for me, of our existence during these years of aging, is pretty much everything that is tangible, everything of “material worth” is meaningless.

The true, the “real”, the things that actually matter and have a real impact on our lives are things of the heart. The concept of Material Worth is something that has been beaten into us since birth. Aside from providing capital gain for some shallow, ignorant, imbecile, the material worth of any given subject is pretty much useless in the long run.

Love is real. Art is real. Or, more accurately, the emotions they evoke are real. These emotions are the things we cling to, the things we cherish as the realization of “the end is not really that far off” sinks in.

Have I ever been brought to tears by looking at the tangible possessions any one has acquired? I think not. Has a piece of art, or the feeling of a captured moment in a photograph brought tears to my eyes along with the realization that these feelings are what, in reality, truly matters. You betcha.

Granted, this is just the ramblings of an aging photographer, but, for me, this is an acknowledgement of reality. It's as real to me as the feeling I get when home in our house which is pictured above.