Seeing the World Through a Different Lens
What a degenerative eye disease taught me about storytelling—and perspective.
A few years ago, I was sitting on my porch, reading on my tablet. The sun was hitting my face just right, and I realized something—I could barely see the screen. I closed one eye, then the other. No matter what I did, things just weren’t clear.
So I got my eyes checked.
That first appointment confirmed it: my vision was slipping. Six months later, it was worse. And again, even worse. Eventually, the optometrist sat me down and told me I had a degenerative eye disease. If left untreated, I would lose my sight.
The first option? A plastic implant to stabilize my cornea.
Not for me.
The second? A newer, experimental procedure called cross-linking. It involved scratching my cornea, timed eye drops, and UV light to chemically strengthen my eye tissue. It wouldn’t fix my vision—but it could stop the degeneration.
It worked.
I’ll never forget putting on glasses after that. I looked across the street and saw a pine tree—not just a green blur, but actual pine needles. I could see the texture of the mountains, the details I’d missed my whole life. And something clicked:
I shoot the way I see.
My visual style—shallow depth of field, wide aperture, a subject in sharp focus while the rest blurs into softness—comes from how I naturally see the world. This degenerative condition didn’t just impact my vision. It shaped the way I tell stories.
When the Hard Thing Becomes the Gift
There’s a lesson here that I come back to often, especially when work is slow or I hit a wall trying to help a nonprofit tell their story.
We all face setbacks. Things don’t always go according to plan. Budgets are tight, approvals get delayed, or you’re not sure if the video you just shared even moved the needle.
But sometimes, the very thing that feels like a roadblock ends up being the thing that shapes your greatest strength. My eye condition forced me to see differently—literally. But it also gave me a unique creative perspective that defines how I shoot, how I frame a subject, and how I tell stories.
And in that way, it became a gift.
The Story Is in the Blade of Grass
Here’s where this connects to you—nonprofits, mission-driven brands, teams trying to make a difference:
You’ve got the numbers. You’ve got the stats. You know your impact. But your community doesn’t always feel it. And numbers—no matter how compelling—can only take us so far.
If I held up a field of grass and said, “There are a million blades here,” you might nod and move on. But if I held up one single blade close enough for you to see its details, now it means something. Now you’re connected to the whole field.
That’s the power of story. That’s why we zoom in. That’s why we tell one story to communicate a broader truth.
When you strip away distractions, and bring someone into a small, human moment, it makes everything else real. It builds trust. And it sparks action.
If you're leading a mission, you're sitting on thousands of stories that could change the way people understand your work. The question is:
Are you telling them in a way they can truly see?
Until next time,
Josh
