Watching the storms roll in

I watched curiously a few weeks ago as a big storm came rolling in off the coast. The wind, the humid air, the dark clouds swirling around didn’t run me off. For the first time I felt compelled to stay. Instead, I felt like they were saying “stay, watch, learn.”

Typically when the storms come rolling in, I want to run for cover. Shelter from the winds and rain, the possible destruction, or just the plain old discomfort of being wet or cold. I have spent a lifetime running for fear of not only what I know, but what I have been told about storms - they are something to fear. So that’s what I do. I live in fear of the storms of life, fleeing at the first sight of cloud coverage overhead. After all, nobody wants to get caught unprepared. Right?

Lately, though, I have been just trying something different. I have been sitting with the storms. Waiting for the rain to set in before I run. Or maybe even dancing through it.

I guess the other way wasn’t really working because I have avoided things most of my life or tried to make them better in some way by protecting myself and everyone around me. I was taught to be afraid and flee the threat of any trouble. I have sheltered every moment from pain and truthfully, I shouldn’t have. Pain is part of life. Storms are a part of life. And it all comes and goes.

The good news is storms eventually pass. Some are worse than others. But you can clean up after them. With a little elbow grease and a lot of effort.

So for now, I am going to be more of an observer. I am going to stop trying to protect myself by running for cover. And I will watch with patient, curious eyes.

Wonder. Wait. Watch. And learn…

Lesson in a bloom

This spring and summer so far, the flowers in my yard have all been putting on their best seasonal show. They stand out brightly, their colors calling out to remind us of the little miracles of Mother Nature always has in store for us.

But flowers are so fleeting. They appear sometimes seemingly out of nowhere. In the night, they emerge silently, like a surprise party from mother nature. I wake up and stand on my deck, marveling at how lovely they really are. And then, the next day almost without warning, they are gone. Just a brief memory in time.

Those flowers that seem so fragile and delicate somtimes. Yet, I overlook the strength it takes them to bloom - to show themselves. That is really what amazes me. All their energy goes into that moment - full face to the world. Showtime.

But the beauty and the miracle doesn’t really lie within the actual flower, does it? The beauty is really in the infrastructure that allows that plant to bloom in the first place. Roots. Stems. Leaves. All working towards the goal of the one part that gets noticed. It hardly seems fair. We look to those prettiest parts, colorful blooms facing the world, scanning over the real miracle that is happening…the support system.

The prettiest parts are noticeable for a reason…reproduction and survival. But I think the life lesson here is to appreciate the beauty - then remember how it gets there. An array of factors take place in making that flower grow and bloom. An entire system lives within that plant - just like us…just like our lives. Then the weather, the sunshine, the oxygen…they all play a role too. It takes more to create the beauty than what we see in the moment of the bloom.

While the flower is lovely, I find it all a reason to celebrate. Those pretty leaves. That strong stem. That deep, complex root system. It all deserves the celebration for hard work, support and a job well-done.

The Rhythm of Summer

When I was at the beach this weekend for an evening walk, I admitted out loud that if I should have to leave the coast for any reason in the future, I would really miss it. I would miss the soft ocean air and the salty tacky water as I walked lazily between the waves, sand between my toes.

This surprised even me a little. I used to think I was a mountain girl. I probably am, in all honesty. Being surrounded by trees does something to me. But recently, I have noticed a magnetic pull to the beach. Perhaps its the warmer temps. Or maybe 2 solid months of being locked inside has really done it (who’s with me here!). But the ocean does something to my very core. It’s rhythm and textures make my heart feel comforted and calm in the same way that the rhythmic swaying of a new mom can soothe a crying baby.

I think need the beach in my soul...like the air I breathe and the food I eat and the water I drink. I have heard people say things like “I don’t like how sand feels in my (feet/clothes/hair/etc).” Or “The salt water is so itchy.” Or even “I don’t like swimming in water I can’t see through.” All valid reasons, I suppose. But these are the very things I crave… the evidence of time spent by the sea. The prickly heat of the summer sun on my salty skin, cheeks flushed with too much time on the water’s edge, faces tacky from the hot and humid air. The feeling of those sandy feet washed off in makeshift showers…always with a little sand left behind on your shoes or swimsuit. It’s just all part of the feeling… of connecting with it all.

Maybe it’s not that I prefer the mountains to the sea. Maybe it’s just that I love being outside, fresh air in my lungs, sun on my cheeks, and me breathing in all this beautiful world has to offer.

So for now, I will lean in for now to these beach days. I will embrace watching each unique sunset, warm salty air on my skin, that gentle sway that mother nature has me cleaved to her chest, swaying back and forth gently into that rhythm of summer once again.

Letting joy take the wheel

Recently I was asked about why I haven’t been writing as much lately.

I wish I had a good answer for that. But I don’t. My heart has been a little lighter these days. And writing for me is therapeutic. It has served for these recent years as a way out of the cave of despair. So these days, I have been a little less inspired - so to speak. While I wait for inspiration, my writing is taking on a new voice…one that is a little brighter and lighter.

Oddly, this feels cumbersome and uncomfortable, like an ill fitting pair of underwear you constantly need to adjust. I almost feel like I need to apologize for it.

What.In.The.World??? Where did THAT notion come from?

Where does this notion of joy equate with something I need to make amends for right now? Do we get that message from our parents at a young age? How do we internalize not being worthy of JOY?

I am not sure how to steer the car with confidence riding shotgun instead of that smug bitch, fear, sitting in the front seat controlling and questioning my every move. I am used to the commands she makes and insecurities she dishes out… always making me apologize for myself and suggesting that in some ways, I have gotten what I deserved.

A little joy is a terrifying thing for me. I sit waiting and wondering when it will all come crashing down again. Sitting with joy often makes me feel like I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. She makes me uncomfortable in her kindness.

So while I wait, and wonder, (and perhaps schedule an appointment with my therapist), I will just keep working on how to lose those feelings of Doubt and Fear along this long stretch of highway. I will keep being myself…writing and taking photos along the way. Holding hands and settling in to my new relationship with Joy whenever I can.

While I am here, I will be certain to drive happily by those hitchhikers, Fear and Uncertainty, on the side of the road…not a thought of stopping at the mere sight of them. I’ll have no guilt for speeding by this time. They’ve been in this car on this very stretch of road with me before and honestly, they are horrible passengers.

I am ready

A quick story.

On a visit to the upstate, we were coming back from a quick grocery store trip and I suddenly yelled to my sweet, obliging driver “PULL OVER!”

“Really?”

“Yes. I want to take a picture.”

This is a repeated story in my life. Only, up until a few months ago, I didn’t really do it. I just wanted to.

I have spent most of my life trying to live small. I was afraid - afraid of inconveniencing everyone around me, afraid of being too high maintenance, afraid of having needs and wants.

I am not sure what to attribute to this newfound confidence and voice. Is it a new relationship that has me seeing things differently - including myself (or rather, especially myself)? Is it my ripening age? Or is it that I have finally had it with putting my life on hold? Whatever the reasons, I am happy to speak my needs and shout out for the opportunities that have so often passed me by fields on a country backroad.

So many things whiz by you when you don’t speak up. Jobs. Love. Even simple photos of old, decaying barns that perhaps I just want. Living small is just not worth it. I have paused my life for so many people and I am ready, finally, to live for myself.

I am ready…finally.

Supporting Skies

I almost discarded this photo on my phone today. Scrolling around for memories, I stumbled across this subtle, washed out photo in a sea of dramatic sunrise shots. I was out for a walk during a moody August sunrise at Folly Beach, the sky playing dramatic tricks on me with each passing second. It felt true to my mood at the time. The sky was stormy, but the light was not having it. The sunrise came out to play that day. But this little Southern sky was playing nothing but a supporting role in the morning.

I stopped moments before I hit the delete button, because despite it’s humble appearance amidst conspicuously gorgeous and fire laden sunrise skies, this photo stunned me with it’s simplicity. The hued blue-grey color palette with it’s subtle pinkish, creamy accent seemed so forgotten. It seemed to fight for attention and it’s own role.

It got me thinking about how we overlook situations like this. Sometimes we are so busy looking at the dramatic sunrise that we overlook the subtle, supporting skies. Much like we don’t notice that mom in the audience as her son takes center stage in a starring role. We forgetting that she, too, has a key role here. She provided support, meals, comfort and endless hours as he honed his skills, making magic for the rest of us. We tend to forget the ones in a supporting role, the ones who support that big, massive, shining star.

But maybe that’s okay too, because that sunrise won’t be looking at me while it makes it’s way through the morning sky. It will look directly at the billowing clouds that allowed it to take center stage.

And that is enough.

For Graham.

I want to be
where the sand meets the sea
where it’s just you and me
dreaming and wondering of what could be.

I want to go
where memories won’t know
how fast you grow
or my sorrow.

I want to take you
to a place we once knew
where the skies are so blue
and it was just we two.

The summit

Raven Rock Falls. Lake Toxaway, NC

I just got back from a three week escape to the mountains of North Carolina, just off of Lake Toxaway in a cabin in the woods. While that may sound like a luxury to many people, I think it was completely necessary for me at this point in my life/career/year. I had reached the pinnacle of burnout. I was tired, cynical, doubtful and hurt. Being a photographer isn't for the faint of heart - especially in a market like Charleston where you can't swing a cat without hitting someone who carries the moniker around with them. It was time for a break. 

While I did break a little, I also did a lot of work. Not in the traditional sense of the word, but I did a lot of work on me...goals, dreams, values, and overall wellness. I meditated. I wrote. I thought. I slept...boy, did I sleep. And I challenged myself...physically, mentally and spiritually.

One of the most memorable moments on the trip for me was this hike to Raven Rock Falls on theToxaway River Trail. It's a special hike that takes you back and forth over the river to ultimately end up at this spectacular site - a towering 60+ foot waterfall that cascades and ends in a frigid pool by your feet. It wasn't my first time hiking this trail, but let's just say after 20 years, it felt like my first time hiking anything.

I expected to be challenged physically, but what I wasn't expecting is the emotional ways in which the hike would challenge me. I struggled, always last in line in the group. My footing was unsure. My body was cumbersome. I was sweaty and hot and hungry and nothing felt right. And to be honest, I felt downright mad about it all. I wanted to turn around and go home. I wanted to stop...to just sit there, like a stubborn mule on the rock, refusing to move forward. I felt as frustrated as a little child in my skin.  But the group pushed me to forge ahead to the final summit.

During the second half of our hike, I noticed something shifting. With each step forward, I saw us working together as a group. We looked out for each other. We took our time. We shared stories and laughter and our water rations. Suddenly, my perspective changed. Pushing through the hard parts encouraged me more. I wasn't thinking of how miserable I felt. I was thinking of how much fun I was having, how beautiful this was, how healthy and strong I felt. I stopped worrying and started just living in the reality of the moment. I stopped fighting the currents and let it take me where it was going to.

It is said that nothing good comes easefully. And I have to agree with that. Life's greatest moments are challenging - sometimes even when you are on vacation. While I took some time off this month from work, I was still working. My "work" became checking in with myself. My hike was a reminder that while there may be challenges and slippery rocks underfoot, you just have to keep on going. You may fall. You will stumble. You will sweat and maybe even cry a little. But you have to keep going. It doesn't have to be pretty. But you do have to finish what you started. 

So as I keep climbing through life - sweating on the path, slipping on the rocks - I will remember it's not always easy. But it is always worth it in the end.

Forge Ahead

When we are caught in a sea of uncertainty, the best thing to do is to find a spot on the horizon line to focus on and paddle towards it with all your might. The seas may get rough. The winds and currents may be unforgiving. But you will always end up at your destination if you keep focusing on where you are headed. 

So eyes forward. And forge ahead.

Island

"The larger the island of knowledge, the longer the shoreline of wonder." Ralph Sockman

Floating by

"Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky."   - Rabindranath Tagore

Remember, the moment you think the clouds are there to deliver bad news is the moment they become the color in the sunset of your lovely life.
 

Into the woods

I grew up with a forest for my back yard. Not a national park, but woods so deep they never seemed to end. I would get lost back there for hours, wandering and wondering about things that only I knew about in my own head.  I would lose time – examining leaves, tree bark and chasing fireflies as I quickly forgot about time and how I measured up in a world that seemed to be so limiting for me...even then.  I would stay out there until I was called back for dinner or bedtime, weary and drunk from the air that seemed so fresh and pure.  So it's no wonder that even today,  I still feel most at home in the woods.

There is a sense of embracing that envelopes my soul when I stand amongst the trees still, hearing the crunching and snapping of the twigs and leaves below my feet. I don't worry about who I will encounter or what I may come across. I feel supported - as though there is nothing to worry about but me, the breath in my lungs and the muscles in my body. I feel loved and protected. I feel safe....and understood.

I don't live near much of a forest these days. So every chance I get to be amongst the comfort of the tall trees and the quiet rustle of the ground covering is like some form of unpaid therapy to me. We travel far and wide so I can breathe in the earthiness of forest floors as I my every step seems to kick up another smell as I leave behind another worry, another issue, another problem. And nobody seems to mind as I stop to catch my breath as we climb higher and further away from every little thing that was tying me up in the first place.

And I just fit right back in - comfortably into this world without boundaries or borders to tell me what I have done wrong or right. I fit right back into to home.

Changing Tides

Often when the tides are changing, things can get a little tricky.

On the surface things can look smooth and easy, like the world is just floating along as it should be. But those undercurrents can be tricky. They sweep you away faster than you'd like, down paths you didn't think you wanted to go. So you spend your time paddling, treading water...forever trying not to get sucked under.

But sometimes that current sweeps you exactly in the direction you want to float. And instead of paddling and fighting, you simply need to float in the direction it's all taking you. Wistfully and blissfully... not fighting a thing.

That current can be confusing though. The very nature of getting swept away – even if it's in the right direction – can lead you to want to fight. When all you are used to doing is fighting a current, you can't help the feeling. You are always prepared for the fight.

Trust. Let go. Have faith that you will end up where you need to be doing exactly what you were meant to be doing.

Summer Daze.

I am in a summer daze. A hazy, lazy summer daze. I can't shake it off. And I really don't want to. I want these lingering days to last forever. Beach picnics at sunset and surfing into the dark hours of the day. I want to stay inside these in between days of spring and summer where the sun is shining and the breeze is cool and all I do is buck the Rules of Life.

It's here I want to lay my head and rest a while. I want to float around and get comfortably lazy with our schedules and Lists of Things To Do. I want to smile into the setting sun and thank her for yet another glorious day of life and give gratitude for the things that make the rest of it a little more palatable.

So here I will stay for a while with arms outstretched into the blue skies, laughing into the ocean winds again. Here is where I will be until the Summer turns her prickly heat on me once again.

And just like that.....

Summer is here. Just like that.

For us, it isn't marked on a calendar or a clock. It isn't measured by the moon or the sun or the tilt of the earth. It arrives the day we drop our schedules and routines for something looser and a little more free. It arrives on a Tuesday at 5:37PM, when we are tired of homework and supper routines and classes and deadlines. It happens when we throw caution to the wind and finally sigh under our breath, "Summer is here. It's finally here."

Welcome back, Summer. I can't wait to float around gently and purposeless in your wake.

The Gift

When I need to regroup, recharge or just or restart myself on a new track during the day, I often come out here on my back deck and look at this view. I take a long, deep breath and pause to find 3 things I am grateful for so I can continue on with my day - hopefully a little lighter than when I started.

Mostly, this is an easy task. But in the past few years, I have struggled with some serious stress and hardship life decided to toss my way. It has made it excruciatingly hard to be present - particularly when your heart is not anywhere near you.

So what about those days when it IS difficult to find balance. What about those days that are hard and complicated and confusing? Or the days that are filled with angst and frustration? How do you find gratitude there? How do you look to find your happy place in those moments?

Honestly, some days I just don't. Some days I just fail miserably. And those are the worst days. But the best part is that I am trying. I always try to find the joy. It's a practice we all work hard for most days.

So I keep showing up here...on my porch. Some days, I have a tea and a smile and so much gratitude my heart could explode. Other days, I am pacing with anxiety or on the verge of tears. It's always different, just like each unique day. The point is, you have to always try. You have to keep showing up and without letting the present get away from you.

So I will keep showing up...right here on this porch. I will keep looking for the present within my heart while seeing the gift of what is real right in front of me.

The broken things

Botany Bay Seashell - taken with my iPhone

There is beauty in the broken things. Those jagged edges and cracked parts are only spaces that allow you to see inside - into the heart - where the beauty hides.

There is beauty in the broken things.

Puzzles and life

An iPhone photo of the worlds most impossible puzzle.

Those that know me know that I am a huge fan of puzzles. I enjoy the challenge of a big puzzle and the gratification of the seeing all the pieces come together in harmony to create the final picture.

One thing I have learned from puzzling is that sometimes you just have to leave a parts of a puzzle alone - walk away from it. Or work on a different corner while scouring those pieces for the solution. They are always there, but often you aren't seeing them as they need to be seen. You need a different perspective. Its only after that shift - that moment away - that the picture takes shape, coming into focus, fitting the image you wanted to create in the first place.

If you think about it, that's a lot like life. Often, we force pieces that don't belong in next to each other, searching for answers in places they really aren't. All the while, all it is we need is a little rest, perspective and change of view. Or perhaps some time to work on a different corner of our world in order for it all to come together how it's supposed to.

Just remember, its the middle part that is always the hardest.

Pure Food. Pure Love.

A little nourishment to start your day. Fresh, clean, organic...pure love.

Tiny Squares

A recent snapshot from my Instagram feed.

In many ways, this is what my Spring has looked like. And at the very same time, this is also not at all how my Spring has looked. Sure, I have seen my fair share of new life, beautiful landscapes and miles of gorgeous green. But there are a lot of gaps that are here that you can't see at all. There have been spaces filled with heartbreak and hard times. Love and loss. And moments where tears filled my eyes and my days. But these moments were in there too. These were the snapshots of my days that I clung to in between those other - and often unbearable - times.

My reason for posting this is not to tell you I have had a hard spring. Nor is it to tell you I had an easy spring (which I did not). It wasn't written to share all too intimate and unnecessary details of my life (keeping things professional here). It's actually to remind us of something important.

We all know that Instagram and Facebook make everyone's lives look envious at best. But those are simply moments - snapshots in between the other parts. Everyone is carrying their burdens. Lots of people have laundry and chores and days filled with nothing but work and computers. Some people have crosses to bear that most often we cannot see - heartbreak, stress, struggles that don't appear in those tiny squares next to their napping cat or the pie theu just made from scratch. But we fill their gaps with a story that we are telling about them. We are filling the gaps with our story. However, that's not our job. Our job is to tell our story.

Whatever your story is on the inside is okay. Whatever story you are telling on the outside is okay too. It's all okay. Because it's your story. Some people want to only hear the good. And others want to hear the real parts - the meat and the details. (Those are special people. Keep them close. They will support you through the details.)  Just remember, you have to keep telling your story however you want to remember it, not how the rest of the world wants to see it. It is your story after all.

If I told you my story over the past 10 years - mostly it's been good. It has looked like this photo in my heart. But truthfully, I could tell you they have been the most formative and difficult 10 years of my life. I lost 2 parents. I said goodbye to countless aunts and uncles. And I even buried one of my sisters. I have raised a boy from toddlerhood to a blossoming teenager and bought a house. I took myself half way around the world, been on some fantastic trips, and loved many people. I have even shifted careers. But what I will most remember about these years is not the trial and tribulation. It's moments like the ones you see here...these snapshots of my life. They represent it all - new and old, big and small, bold and fragile, cloudy and bright.

It's all there looking back at me in those tiny squares.