My camera can’t take pictures of stars.

It was a perfectly clear night, making it very significant, considering the month of February is rather cloudy. I could count every star if I wanted to, all the bright ones and all the dim ones. With friends gathered around a bonfire, everything seemed perfect. And to make it even better, we were covered and sealed by a dome of twinkling lights, some of which I could name by recognizing their assigned constellations.

But my camera couldn’t take a picture of them, and as awfully irritating as it was that the lights from the sky couldn’t be picked up by small, simple iPhone camera, it made me realize that some moments are not meant to be captured physically, but rather as a distant memory we hold in our minds and hearts.

Perhaps the simplistic moment of lying on the wet grass at night gazing at the stars was not supposed to be photographed. Maybe that moment would have become less significant if something as technological and modern like a phone camera were to have captured it, not allowing us to trust our instincts when reminiscing and reflecting on those special times.

These thoughts have led me to believe that photographs only capture a physical moment; they don’t catch the feelings, emotions, inspirations, happiness, or sadness we could have felt in that split second in time. They don’t photograph a moment on a spiritual or emotional level.

I’ve begun to wonder if photographs are necessary items. If we focus our attention on the angle, brightness, and light to snap the perfect picture, are we really living in the moment? A few minutes of my stargazing was disrupted with the thought of taking a picture, further disrupting the relaxation and calmness that I should have been focused on, as opposed to the physical effort of me trying to capture it.

But while my time was shifted and focused on the effort of snapping pictures of the stars, my lens was only black. Not even the brightest star would glimmer when directed to my phone screen. If I were to continue to break this down even further, this represents the idea that not even life’s most extraordinary moments can be represented through just an extraordinary picture. Even if my lens were to catch the bright star in the sky, specifically Venus, it wouldn’t measure up to how happy I was in the moment.

So when it comes down to it, I’ve realized the importance of living in the moment rather than pausing to take a picture of it, because the time capturing the perfect moment takes away from its significance.

The next time I find myself thinking that a picture will capture the perfect moment, one that I’ll want to remember forever, I’ll be glad my camera can’t take pictures of stars.