This guy’s job description is literally shark bait

What I love about photography is, you do whatever it takes to get the shot.

Even if that means contorting yourself in an unflattering position to capture the subject.

Have you ever watched a person holding a camera while laying down on the concrete, going chest deep in swamp water, running full speed behind a sweaty athlete, or hanging from a tree in the pouring rain while wearing head to toe camouflage so hungry predators won’t spot them?

That kind of work requires dedication, focus, creativity, patience, resourcefulness and humility. That’s the real skill.

Sure, the technical expertise of lenses, light, texture and composition is important. You still need to have the eye, as photographers say, to notice things worth photographing in the first place.

But when it comes down to it, only question that matters is, what lengths will you go to get the shot? Are you willing to do whatever it takes?

I watched a documentary about a renowned wildlife photographer who specializes in sea mammals.

This guy’s job description is literally, shark bait.

Because from a technical perspective, the ten thousand dollar underwater camera does most of the heavy lifting for his work. Which means his skillset is something bigger.

Now, this issue hits a nerve with some people. There’s the never ending debate of whether or not photography is an art. Aren’t you just pointing a piece of metal at something and then pressing a button?

A photographer doesn’t make anything per se. They use a tool that captures reality, but they’re not creating reality itself. Not in the way that a painter, pianist, novelist or actor does.

But to me, that’s okay. Because even if you’re not making art, you’re still making meaning. The outcome is the same, it’s simply a different intermediary.

Let me share a personal example.

When my best friend got married, his dream was to get all the bros together on the morning of the wedding to play pickup baseball. Not only because it would be fun and give us a chance to cross pollinate different friend groups, but also because we had nothing else to do all day.

It’s not like we needed to wake up at the crack of dawn to primp our hair, put on makeup, paint our nails or perfect our outfits. Nobody even notices at the men at weddings. We’re just accessories. Men could look and smell like rancid piles of crap, and the guests wouldn’t say a word. May as well use this time to make a memory.

Now, I played baseball for most my childhood. I was a great pitcher who was tall and could throw heat and had a nasty curve.

But then freshman year came around. Puberty had a way of separating the men from the boys. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t fast, I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t competitive, I was prone to injury, and I was afraid of getting hit by the ball. That pretty much ended my baseball career.

Fast forward to thirty years later when the groom sent out the invite for the ballgame. It sounded awesome, but there was simply no way I was playing. And so, I wondered to myself

How else could I participate in this experience? What would make this day meaningful to me and the groom, but without pulling my groin?

I want to honor his final wishes as a single man, but I also don’t want to end up in hospital as yet another middle aged man trying to relive his glory days.

I wrote my friend back and told him, I will one hundred percent be there, just not as a player. Let me document the game, I told the groom. I’ll shoot the whole thing on video and edit it into a highlight reel, that way we’ll have an artifact of this moment forever.

He was stoked and so was I. Because now I could make meaning according to what was uniquely appealing to me. The other guys could throw and hit and run, and could observe and document and celebrate.

Long story short, we had the best day ever. The ballgame was equal parts childhood nostalgia, physical exertion, mental stimulation and social bonding.

I had just as much fun shooting the game as I would have had playing it.

I got to use all of my skills, including dedication, focus, creativity, patience, resourcefulness and humility.

Running around the diamond, crouching in the dirt, dodging foul balls and capturing memorable moments, I did whatever it took to get the shot. No matter how foolish I looked.

Ultimately, the artifact came out beautifully. The first time I watched the film, I made myself cry. I sent it out to the groom as my wedding gift to him. And my groin muscle remained intact.

Lesson learned, meaning is made, not found. Use whatever intermediary you can to feel fulfilled.

Go to great lengths to provoke a sense of satisfaction from your efforts. Participate in ways that are uniquely appealing to your desires and needs.

And contentment will not be far away.

How could you frame things in a way that guarantees you will increase your psychological experience of meaning?