Have you ever paused to consider how often you take your senses for granted? Perhaps it happened during a power outage—one of those moments when darkness becomes more than an inconvenience. The kind of darkness where there is no glow, no flicker, no ambient light at all. The kind where the phrase “you can’t see your hand in front of your face” suddenly isn’t just a saying—it’s reality.

And in that same moment, you may have noticed something else: silence isn’t really silent. The hum of appliances, usually buried beneath your awareness, suddenly disappears. In their absence, you become aware of just how noisy “normal” life is.

It is often in the loss of our senses—even briefly—that we become truly attentive to their presence. A power outage makes that loss dramatic and immediate. But when time and age gently, gradually diminish these gifts, the loss is quieter—yet no less profound.

I laughed once when I heard someone say that we spend both our early and our later years watching PBS. And yet, I find myself drawn to it more now than ever before. Maybe it’s the relentless speed and noise of most modern shows, or maybe it’s the depth and intentional pacing of documentaries—but something about it resonates differently in this season of life. One series, in particular, has captured my attention: Outside: Behind the Lens. The cinematography is breathtaking. Time and again, I find myself audibly saying, “Wow,” or “That’s so beautiful.”

Aiello and his companions venture into remote places, often in the earliest hours of the day, to capture scenes that quite literally take your breath away. Their work stirs something deep within me—a sense of wonder, a longing to explore. If they ever feature the Icefields Parkway, I might just be beside myself!

The show’s tagline says it well: “When you travel, the world becomes a smaller place—when you explore with friends who share a love for landscape cinematography, destinations come to life.” And they truly do. Through their lens, I see light, color, depth, and scale in ways that draw me into awe of God’s creation. But it’s not just what I see—it’s also what I hear. The subtle layering of sound and music transforms the experience into something richer, something fuller.

As I reflected on this balance between sight and sound, Eyes and Ears, I explored a few documentaries on audio in film, including Making Waves and John Williams: A Legacy in Sound. Each highlights a powerful truth: what we hear is just as vital as what we see. When our Eyes and Ears are both intentionally engaged—when there is harmony and balance—something deeper happens. We move beyond simply observing. We begin to feel. Emotion is stirred, connection is formed, and the story comes alive.

That’s the difference between watching and experiencing. It’s what draws us into a film, a piece of music, or even a moment in nature. One sense alone can inform us—but together, they transform us.

I find myself deeply grateful that our Creator designed us with such rich capacity to experience the world. Eyes and Ears are not just functional—they are gifts that allow us to encounter beauty, meaning, and wonder. At the same time, there is a quiet sadness in recognizing that some we love no longer experience these gifts as they once did. The fading of sight or hearing isn’t just physical—it touches memory, connection, and joy in ways that are hard to put into words.

As a hobby photographer, I’ve come to appreciate these gifts even more. I love searching for unique perspectives—capturing not just an image, but a moment…perhaps even a memory. So if you ever travel with me, consider yourself warned: I may very well end up laying on the ground or crouching at an odd angle just to capture a different view. Feel free to roll your eyes—I’ll understand.

Shows like Outside: Behind the Lens have given me permission to embrace that “oddness,” to pursue beauty from unexpected angles, and to savor the experience along the way. And honestly? I’m more than okay with that. And I hope that you will consider the emotions that arise when you view a photo, a movie, or a scene in nature and pause for a moment to thank God for that feeling.

References:

Aiello, J. (Host). (2019-2024). Outside: Behind the lens. [TV series]. PBS. 18Thirty Entertainment. Valley PBS. https://www.pbs.org/show/outside-beyond-lens/

Costin, M. (Director). (2019). Making waves: The art of cinematic sound [Film]. Ain’t Heard Nothing Yet Corporation.

Tunley. T. (Director). (2024). John Williams: A Legacy in sound. [Film]. Entertain Me Productions LTD.