I take it that people try to be present, in the moment, as they compose images. Taking the world as it is. Many examples I see involve patterns or abstractions or plants, but less so people and animals. I don't know if this is inherent or coincidence or just by virtue of the small sample I have explored.
I am trying to work through the "act of composing" which seems like you are "working" at getting the right picture, vs. being totally free flowing.
In Theravada Buddhist communities (Thailand and Myanmar, eg) the monks go out every day to receive alms. This is often called "begging", which is misleading, since they are not allowed to ask for anything unless in great need, only to accept what is freely offered. They must accept and eat whatever food is offered to them (in general, before noon of the day the offering is made).
It is an interesting exercise to go out with a camera in the same spirit: not "taking" or "making" photographs, but accepting whatever photographs the world offers, as it offers them.
Whether you "take" or "receive" has to do with power and authority, and it applies to our modern world as well. All medical students today are taught "history-
taking", but until the later 19th century doctors did not talk about "taking" the patient's history, they talked about "receiving" it. Right there you can see the dizzying rise in social status and authority of doctors over the last 100 years. Whether you "take" photographs or "make" them, you are still the boss. If you "receive" photographs, the world is the boss.
This also links up with the idea that there is such a thing as excessive or inappropriate skill. There is a Zen story about a sword-master with three students. He called them to his study one by one, and above the door he placed a cushion so that it would fall on anyone entering as they opened the door. The first student opened the door and the cushion fell on his head. The master said "You have studied well and are now a master in your own right". The second student saw the cushion, took it down, and entered. The master said "You have learned much, but you have much yet to learn". The third student opened the door and the cushion fell, but before it hit his head he swept out his sword and cut it into quarters. The master said "You have learned nothing; leave and never return".
Much the same is said in the famous Verse 11 of the Tao Te Ching, by Lao Tse:
Thirty spokes are joined in the wheel's hub.
The hole in the middle makes it useful.
Mold clay into a bowl.
The empty space makes it useful.
Cut out doors and windows for the house.
The holes make it useful.
Therefore, the value comes from what is there,
But the use comes from what is not there.
For me, some of the appeal of film and alternative processes comes from this feeling.