It is not unusual to find multiple photographers scattered amongst the sidelines of any event. In fact, you may even expect to hear the muted clicks of a camera underscoring the ambience of every major occasion, from something as small as a birthday celebration to a much-anticipated press conference or a devastating storm. As for me, I certainly experience every game from the edge of the field, every assembly from the side wall and every spirit rally across the field from my class.

To many, it may seem as though I am so often on the sidelines of school events that I hardly ever participate in them, much less live them—and I understand that. I admit that I rarely ever participate in assemblies and rallies because I chose to cover them instead, and I know that in some ways I am sacrificing many valuable high school memories.

But in return, I am given the chance to watch from the sidelines, to observe each moment and examine it as an artifact of time, and these opportunities have taught me, almost ironically, the importance of “living in the moment.” Though photography does require me to remove myself from the scene in order to capture the scene, it also requires me to be in the moment so that I can find the shots that will tell the story the best. To truly a document an event, I must also be part of it, for there is no way to capture a memory without first knowing what living the memory felt like. After all, there is no memory to capture if no one lived in the moment to begin with.

I didn’t always believe in the value of time. In fact, I used to think that photography was a race against time, a battle to preserve the moments which time tugs away from us with undying persistence. Capturing each and every moment seemed of the utmost importance, and I would often lose track of the moment at hand altogether as I found myself caught up in a wild race, concentrating only on preserving each and every second of time.

Of course, there was a small flaw in this method. Taking hundreds of photos at an hour-long baccalaureate ceremony and then spending several hours uploading them was simply not efficient—or even useful. In the end, neither I nor the paper benefited from my frantic efforts.

I was then forced to rethink my approach, taking my thoughts all the way back to the very heart of photography. I knew that we needed photographs to document and to remember. Remember what? To remember moments. What for? So that we may relive them, again and again, until they become fixed in our memory as reminders of the fleeting nature of moments.

So that is the purpose of photography. Taking pictures is not just about reaching beyond time or outrunning time; in fact, it involves no struggle against time at all. Rather, photography is the art of living and of reliving. To me, it presents the ability to watch action unfold both in the present as it is and from the future, looking back through a frame. It is, so to speak, the balance between living fully in the moment and watching distantly from the sidelines.

With this realization, I have learned to bring myself out of the viewfinder and into the moment, to lower the camera and fully immerse myself in the sounds and colors around me, to really live the moments I once rushed through—all while looking for the next half-second of action that I need to document, of course. There must always be a part of me removed from the present, watching from 30,000 ft and waiting for the next frame to roll around, and in some ways, I prefer it to be this way. Staying a little at a distance constantly reminds me of the ephemerality of time, which only lends each moment greater value and pushes me more to cherish the gift of time.

Perhaps I still am missing out on something by standing on the sidelines. All I know is that I have stumbled upon something which works for me, whether it is a true balance or not, and that stepping away and into the shadows has given me the chance to see life for what it it: a miracle comprised of small moments.

And sometimes, all it takes is one step back to remember how valuable each of these moments is.