cathysly_20180606_.jpg

I believe that everything starts by paying attention. Life is imperfect and any magical light we can bring into our day is worthy of our gratitude. Laughter and love, joy and celebrations slip into our lives with ease but learning to cope with the deep pain life brings to us is also necessary. I do this best with my camera, chasing down light, zooming in and out and pairing it all with truth. 

I live in Western Washington with my husband of 40+ years, in the home where we raised our three sons. We share that home now with our sweet beagle named Baker.  

Thank you so much for stopping by. 

 

 ©Cathy Sly 2018 

the stories we tell

the stories we tell

“Who are we but the stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves, and believe?”
― Scott Turow, Ordinary Heroes

I spend the week thinking about the roles I play and how I get sucked into a certain pattern and can't get out. For a few days I find myself really stuck, deep inside my head, and the scenery is not so pretty. The weather does not help as it pours rain for the better part of the week, and I can't get outside. 

“We become the stories we tell ourselves. ”
— Michael Cunningham

I make do and take last minute photos as daylight diminishes each day, because it is way to early in the year to quit the project. I flounder around the house with no inspiration. I start and stop a few books because nothing holds my attention and finally I bake bread. The process slows me down enough to be in the moment, and the dough soothes my soul. 

Mindfulness helps us get better at seeing the difference between what’s happening and the stories we tell ourselves about what’s happening, stories that get in the way of direct experience. Often such stories treat a fleeting state of mind as if it were our entire and permanent self.
— Sharon Salzberg

The sun comes out on the weekend, and the temperature rises. The dog and I head out to walk away my doubts and his energy. I figure out that I feel caged and helpless, but also know that I have put these cages around myself, and I have the power to break out and choose a different path. I recognize that if I set out to sabotage myself before daybreak, I don't stand a chance. 

It dawns on me that  I am waiting to be rescued. By what or by who I don't know, but over the past few years I have tired about everything and everyone to move me beyond the constraints I have constructed.  I am aware that it is up to me now. I am tired of self-helping myself with other's ideas, their routines, their saving graces. 

I sit with the dog in a field on a log. A log someone painstakingly smoothed out and leveled for just that purpose and I understand that I have the power and the ability to write myself a new role. I am allowed to cast myself as the leading character in my story. 

Stories, we all have stories. Nature does not tell stories, we do. We find ourselves in them, make ourselves in them, choose ourselves in them. If we are the stories we tell ourselves, we had better choose them well.
— James Orbinski

I sit on that log for a long time as the wind blows around me and the sun shines down, warming me up. I let the dog explore a bit before I call to him to come. He comes running and I tell him, to sit. "Sit and close your eyes and turn you head just a tiny bit to allow the freedom of that wind to blow through your ears." 

And he does, and I think this is the perfect start to my new story. 

indulge in the ordinary

indulge in the ordinary

ordinary joy

ordinary joy