37 FramesThere are quotes that stop you mid-scroll. Words that reach through the noise, tap you on the shoulder, and whisper, pay attention. For us, this one by Anthony Bourdain always does that:
“It seems that the more places I see, the bigger I realize the world to be. The more I realize how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn. Maybe that’s enlightenment enough, to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom, at least for me, means realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.”
Anthony Bourdain wasn’t just a chef. He wasn’t just a traveler. He wasn’t just the man with the best one-liners in voiceovers that made you laugh while breaking your heart. He was, in many ways, a mirror. Reflecting back the raw beauty of the world, its complications, its contradictions, and the fragility of being human within it.
We miss him. The way he looked at the world gave permission to all of us who live in this strange, messy space between longing and belonging. The way he spoke about food, about travel, about people… it felt like he was talking about life itself. It still does.
The More We See, the Less We Know
When we first left Brisbane for Japan more than two decades ago, we thought we were adventurous. We thought buying a one-way ticket was the bravest thing we’d ever done. We thought we understood the world enough to jump right into it.
And then Tokyo happened. The subway maps that looked like modern art. The vending machine panic-orders. The rituals and rhythms we didn’t understand. The culture that simultaneously welcomed us and bewildered us. We were smaller than small.
And that’s the lesson. The more you see, the more you realize just how much you don’t know. It’s humbling. Sometimes uncomfortably so. But it’s also where the magic is.
Because the opposite… the illusion of mastery, the smug moment where you think you get it… that’s where growth ends.
The Weight of Wisdom (and Why It’s Light)
Bourdain suggested that maybe enlightenment is simply realizing how far there is to go. That wisdom isn’t a mountain peak but the act of noticing how far the horizon stretches.
And isn’t that the truth? We see it in our work constantly. In every wedding. In every couple. The realization that no matter how many ceremonies we’ve witnessed, we’ve never seen this one. This vow, said in this way, with this light, with these people who will never be together in this moment again.
There is no smug clarity. There’s only the awareness that we’re still students of love, students of culture, students of humanity. Every day is a class in humility. And the tuition? Curiosity.
Smallness as Superpower
There’s a cultural obsession with being “big.” Big influence. Big success. Big following. But the smallness Bourdain speaks of isn’t weakness… it’s the beginning of wonder.
When you allow yourself to be small, you leave room to be astonished. You leave space to be moved. You walk into a hidden Kyoto teahouse, or a windswept Namibian desert, or a grandmother’s kitchen in Hokkaido, and you realize that you’re standing in the presence of something enormous. Something that existed before you and will exist after you.
And in that moment, smallness becomes freedom.
The Myth of Arrival
Bourdain’s words dismantle one of the biggest myths of modern life: that there’s an endpoint. A final resting place of the mind. A moment when you’ve “arrived.”
The truth is, there is no arrival. Only motion. Only learning. Only constant expansion.
For us, weddings aren’t endpoints. They’re beginnings. They’re not the closing of a chapter, but the widening of the story. And marriage isn’t a finish line… it’s the longest, most extraordinary journey you’ll ever take.
There’s no moment of smug clarity in love, either. Just the daily humbling realization that the person beside you is both familiar and mysterious, constant and ever-changing.
What Bourdain Taught Us About Travel, Work, and Ourselves
We feel a kinship with Bourdain not because we also live out of suitcases, but because we understand the compulsion he had. That relentless drive to see. Not just to tick off countries or grab the Instagram shot, but to lean into the stories simmering behind every door. To sit with strangers until they no longer feel like strangers. To taste. To listen. To get it wrong and try again.
In weddings, in travel, in film, in life… this is what drives us too.
Because when you chase experience, you’re not chasing the known. You’re running headlong into the vastness of what you don’t yet understand. And maybe that’s wisdom enough.
The Unfinished Mind
We think a lot about Bourdain’s line: “no final resting place of the mind.” It’s the opposite of certainty. The refusal of stagnation.
In our work, that looks like always experimenting with light. Always chasing the unexpected shot. Always learning from our couples, from cultures, from places that reshape us.
In our lives, it means staying curious. Asking questions. Not being afraid to admit what we don’t know. And maybe even laughing at ourselves when we panic-order the wrong coffee again.
The unfinished mind is not a failure. It’s the most human thing about us.
The Long Road Ahead
We don’t know how far we have yet to go. But we do know this: the farther we go, the more beautiful the road becomes.
We’re headed to Greenland, Scotland, back to Africa, and to countless weddings in the mountains, on beaches, in gardens, and cities across Japan. Each journey will shrink us a little more. Each story will expand us a little more. Each encounter will remind us that the world is impossibly vast, and that we are impossibly lucky to walk through it.
Anthony Bourdain is gone. But his words remain, like compass points. Reminding us that wisdom isn’t about collecting answers. It’s about staying small enough to keep asking questions.
And so we will. Always.
📋 Written in the spirit of curiosity
📸 Seen through lenses that never stop learning
🎥 Told as stories that never end
37 Frames
