connection

“Caring passionately about something isn't against nature, and it isn't against human nature. It's what we're here to do.”

Annie Dillard

I want nothing more than to be at grateful. To allow all the doubts that follow me to resolve or at least relocate themselves far out of my reach.

I long for connection, truly any type at all. To be seen, heard and valued. I am not talking here about love, for I am loved, this I don’t doubt. No, what I yearn for is for someone, or maybe something to wholeheartedly walk alongside of me.

I find the world confusing, too noisy, too rambunctious, and way too impersonal. I long for the curiosity of my youth where there was hope, possibilities, and plenty of Ideas. Along with an awareness that rose up through my own consciousness, bringing with it a place for daydreams to morph and maybe become true.

I walk through most days now on repeat. Performing the small tasks I have done for years, tasks done now without much sense of accomplishment or thought. I wake often with a need to find my place in a world that I am no longer familiar with. I feel lost. I worry, I shut down, I cry.

At some point during the day I pick up my camera and head out into my tiny world. Sometimes outside to the garden, but also inside, within the walls of our home. I roam until something catches my eye and I feel that familiar spark ignite within me. I study the scene until I have committed to memory what it is I see and feel, and only then, do I lift the viewfinder to my eye and shoot. I walk away with sense of connection to that girl of my youth, as I feel hope and calm wash over me, bringing with it a bit of peace.

it is not weird

I want feelings to be expressed, to be open, to be natural, not to be looked on as strange. It's not weird if you feel deeply.
- May Sarton

what is it about early evening and morning light?
the feelings evoked by rays of light
bees buzz around the budding peony buds one evening,
and the dog, one morning, in his spot on the window seat,
surveying the goings on outside
these moments cause me to catch my breath

as I tell myself once again
it is not weird to feel deeply . . .

finding my footing

“When I am alone the flowers are really seen; I can pay attention to them. They are felt as presences. Without them I would die. Why do I say that? Partly because they change before my eyes. They live and die in a few days; they keep me closely in touch with process, with growth, and also with dying. I am floated on their moments.”

― May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude




blooming right now in the garden, and the dog

“ If you pay attention, you’re filled with wonder, because who wouldn’t be, right? But we get so caught up in worrying, in being angry that we just, we don’t stop to marvel. And I think that if you walk through a neighborhood with a kid or a toddler, it’s just like, wait! Everything is fascinating. And I don’t want to let that go, because that’s a great gift. It grounds you.”

-Kate DiCamillo 

In April I watched daily as the garden unfolded. My mood getting lighter with every bud opening. The birds arrived, hungry and demanding - so loud in the mornings that one of my neighbors made a comment to me. I let it slide, pretending it was her amazement and not a complaint. We spent a few days spreading two pick-up loads of compost around the yard and managed to fill 12 large garden-waste bags from Home Depot throughout the month. I spent my Tuesday mornings with Percy building “dino nation”, looking for bugs, reading books, and taking walks. I made margaritas and fish tocos with the Brandon and Courtney one Sunday, and there was a date night with Jordan, just the two of us out for dinner and a concert. But for some reason I could not wander into this space. I decided I needed to go silent for a bit hoping it might help me figure out if I was just burned out or maybe truly done.

May arrived and I was still on the fence as to what to do. I spent time making new Spotify lists, listening to lots of music. I read books, and cleaned out my podcasts library. I got the vegetable garden in and filled the deck with potted herbs and flowers. I cleaned out closets and drawers, making piles to take to shelters and the Goodwill. But mostly I slowed down, trying to remember what I filled my days with before the computer and my phone ruled my life. I started to take a short rest in the afternoon to read, or listen to one of the three podcasts I had left in my library. Sometimes I just sat with the dog in the sun and watched the birds in the yard, allowing my thoughts wander. Slowly I could feel a change taking place, I could feel myself walking into new territory. Territory I thought was long gone.

Lately I wake most mornings with a bit of melancholy along with plenty of gratitude. I think a lot about how this space (this crazy blog) has changed and morphed over the years. I have gone from posting every single day to saying goodbye. Over the years I have decided to let go of the doubts and the rules and just run with it, but somehow I always end up questioning the why, instead of embraceing it for the gift it is. For you see this space, this photo journal, holds so much of me in it. It has always been a place to record the beauty within my life, but I am just now understanding that the words I write often make sense only to me, and that is the true gift. For I am not here to sell anything, or to gather lots of followers, I am here to make sense of all the deep feelings I carry within my heart. Feelings that overwhelm me with sadness and heartache for sure, but mostly with amazement and wonder, and love.

So here I am, back again, thanking you for coming along.

“The beautiful spring came, and when nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.”
― Harriet Ann Jacobs

I pick up my camera most days and watch spring unfold. Sometimes I set out with a real purpose in mind. But mostly I just wander.
In the time it takes for me to set my camera settings and focus, both my body and soul have revived themselves.

because we can

“Be joyful because it is humanly possible.”

— Wendell Berry