Learning to float.

Years ago, I went on a tubing expedition with a casual group of friends like one does in their 20s. As we headed down the river, little groups slowly broke off - some going faster than others, while others lingered behind near the coveted beer float.

The group I was in was in the front - we called ourselves the “lovely ladies.” We had hit some rapids on the way down and gained momentum, breaking us off from the beer group and the boy I was woo-ing.

Included in our group of “lovely ladies” was me, an exotic sounding German woman I had never met, and a friend of mine that looked like the spitting image of Cameron Diaz - tall, blonde, lean, stunning. She was gorgeous and she leaned into the safety of that. I can hardly blame her.

As the three of us floated aimlessly down the wide river, giggling and gossiping and having a fun little Saturday, I noticed something…my gorgeous friend seemed to just glide around obstacles, long legs extended, peaceful and serene. I, on the other hand, kept getting caught. Stuck. Stopped by the river’s obstacles. I caught myself on rocks and branches. I rammed head first into rapids that flipped me over, making me look like a bedraggled prom queen the night after her big debut. Meanwhile, “Miss Diaz” kept those long bronze legs in the air and made it down rapids and around boulders effortlessly.

I determined at that moment that this was a metaphor for life.

And in truth, this has been my life. I have watched a few people glide by me - even with a headstart from my parents - no college debt and a little help when I needed it. It’s not because I’m wasn’t working hard or giving it my all - it’s just that my balance was off. Or sometimes I drifted into the wrong current. Or maybe I didn’t believe I could do it all on my own. After all, when had that happened before?

I have believed as long as I can remember that I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough or worthy enough. It’s taken me years to unravel this story, which still gets knotted up in my brain sometimes. And it’s gotten me tripped up and stuck for years. The only way I can stop believing it is to keep pushing through those obstacles and keep showing myself how strong I really am. Get up. Dust myself off. And just keep going.

Eventually I made it to the end of our float, a little wet and ready for a snack. I made it before some of the beer floaters. I made it right behind those easy long legs. But I made it.

______

It’s been years since this day and I think about it today like it just happened last week. I have no idea where the “lovely ladies” have landed now or if their lives have been easy, effortless or struggle free. I have no idea what happened to the boy I was chasing back then who crushed my ego like so many before him…he ended up bringing someone to the next party that looked like a call girl.

I digress.

What I do know is that I am still standing here…stronger and more resilient than someone who has glided through life effortlessly. Because I know how to get through the rapids. I have had some practice.

Life is full of rapids….full of obstacles. Learn to navigate them early and with grace for yourself. Because the quicker you navigate that, the easier the big boulders down the river will be to get around.

Oh…and make sure you learn how to swim, too. That’ll come in handy.

Reconnecting

Photo taken at a meal during a recent yoga retreat I photographed for Beth Cosi at The Horse Shoe Farm

It’s been a strange year.

It’s been a year of isolation and of disconnection. It’s been a year of reconnection with ourselves and our families. And sorting through the muck and mire of life until we what is most important to us. For me, that has meant a lot of things.

Let me start by saying that the general timing of my life paired with the aftermath of a major pandemic has thrown us straight into transition mode around here. Plans are being formed for the next chapter for all of us that will both carry us away and bring us closer together in some respects. Our lives are so far flung that we are reaching out - both unconsciously and very consciously. We are trying to find our way back to each other in all the ways. We are trying desperately to hang on to each other. To connect.

When life starts pulling at you (money, sickness, kids, life, general stuff), suddenly you can see the holes you managed to sloppily repair in the first place. They are always the first to give way. So, as life pulled at those strings (and as it always will), I quickly saw the holes coming back open like a sweater that easily unravels at the pull of a dangling piece of yarn.

But I have made these repairs so often now that I know how to jump into action. For me, it’s self care: Meditation, mindfulness and movement. That’s all I need to check in and make sure I am okay, regroup and put myself on track.

Or so I thought.

This past weekend, I went to a yoga retreat nestled in the crook of the North Carolina mountains under the safe and regal watch of Grandfather mountain. We had a healthy dose of all the things you need to get on track. Yoga. Meditation. Amazing food. But I felt like there was more there. More that I had missed. It was there that I realized what I have been missing this year - connection and conversation. I needed these things like I needed water. I needed to connect with humans and again - both physically and emotionally. I needed to walk on the earth in my bare feet and feel the grass against my back. I wanted see myself reflected back in other humans, in nature, in the mirror I have so desperately hated to gaze into all these years. I wanted to see both my good and my not-so-good parts.

This year has made me see that the thing I have been missing in this puzzle has been connection. It’s been a crucial piece missing for so many of us, too. Connecting to ourselves and others. Family. Friends. Strangers! I need connection like air. I need to connect over food and music and everything we have in common - not what we DON’T have in common (I’m looking at you politics!)

So each day now as I face a lot of transition and the turmoil of life, I try hard to remember to do the important stuff. I take care of me first. But I also pick up the phone and call someone. I hug my family. I walk in the grass and sit in the warm sunshine. I smile at people in the car next to me. I pet my dogs. And know that these repairs might just be a little more substantial this time.

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.

Blood, sweat and tears

National Air + Space Museum, Udvar-Hazy Annex

I recently took a short trip to Washington, D.C. to kick off the summer. Our trip was a real contrast to last summer where I basically hid away in the mountains in a cabin and slept off what felt like a very long year...or few years. I was coming out of some mild depression from – well...life I guess – and hiding away in the woods was really just what I needed at the time.

This year, feeling a little more adventurous and energetic, we took flight and headed to D.C. for some culture and stimulation.  Since I was traveling with boys, there were lots of adventures planned – airplanes, sporting events, spies, and news were all on our agenda. I was happy to go along for the ride, even though the art galleries are more my jam. But on trips like this, you never know where inspiration will lurk or what new things you'll see.

As we walked through the museums and giant structures with massive planes suspended precariously from the ceilings, my mind wandered - not to the history or the information behind each one - but to their stories. I wonder: how many times did those inventors and scientists have to fail to reach their goals? How many times did they screw up or go back to the drawing board?  How many times were they SURE of something only to be proven wrong, yet again?  The Wright Brothers failed miserably before achieving their goals. But they kept going. They had bigger plans, and an even bigger belief in themselves and their ideas.

The things that strikes me most is that they didn't give up. Each person had a belief that they worked tirelessly for. They paired themselves with like-minded friends and collegues to help them achieve their wildest dreams...all while failing over and over again.

Failure was eminent in those walls of the Air and Space museums, but that's not at all what we see. What we see is an evolution of flight, a tireless display of dedication and the grit to never ever ever give up - no matter how crazy your thoughts may seem. What we see is the success, the achievements, the trophy...the end result. What you don't see is failure. You don't see frustration. You don't see the tears and long hours it takes to get a rocket ship off the ground and into orbit. 

Sometimes, life can feel like that sometimes - like a massive plane grounded by gravity and the weight of it's heavy armor to protect it from the elements. And then other times, life can feel weightless and free like you are floating gently through space, unencumbered by the gravity of it all. Just remember on the days it feels heavy that it takes a lot of blood, sweat, tears, failure, and a whole lot of fire power to launch yourself into the future.

You just have to keep trying. It's as simple and complicated as that.

Waiting to bloom

I have lived in fear and self-doubt for most of my life. My story is a wild ride of elements that sound like I should have packed it all in years ago. On paper, most people would have given up. But somehow, here I am, still standing.

Aside from the self doubt, there has always been a gentle undercurrent of hope in my heart. A spot that says "Keep going...you have got this." It's like a gentle hand, softly guiding me through the mud and mire of life. The hand that knows that I have it in me to bloom through it all like a delicate and brightly colored lotus flower rising from the mud.

It's the voice that says - do not give up. It's the voice that says - give it one more try. It's the voice that says - you can do this.

So I keep pushing. I keep persevering. Through the mud and the mire and the muck. Because under it all is a big, bright flowery dream that is just waiting to bloom.

Below my feet

Taken on the magical trail to Rainbow Falls in North Carolina.

I have always been magnetically pulled to the forest and the mountains, drawn in to their mystery, their intrigue, their strength, their magic.

I have forever been comforted by the trees, standing tall and holding out their arms, protecting me from the harsh realities of life.

As I walk down the forest paths, I hear the familiar sound of my feet hitting the ground, crunching leaves, kicking rocks and snapping twigs. It reminds me once again to be present and grounded – heart beating, lungs breathing, moving forward.

The further I get from myself, the more I need the forest to hold me up. I need it to ground me. But mostly, I need it to remind me that I am equally as overwhelmingly important and humbly insignificant as each tree, each leaf, each twig on the ground below my feet.

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.

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.

Love

Love. From the graffiti wall in Austin, TX.

I love lots of things. I love colorful, bold, unashamed, standout love. I love dogs and kittens and horses. I love babies and old people and everyone in between. I love you! I love my friends and my family. I love the warm sunshine and the soothing, cool rain. I love the way the world smells in the early summer in Charleston. I love berries and pineapple and home grown tomatoes. I love my home and my pets and travel. I love my son.

There are also things I don't love. I don't love heat or humidity. I don't love raw onions or melons or cucumbers much. I don't love spiders of mosquitoes or cockroaches. I don't love the little gum balls that fall out of the trees in my yard because they are spiny and hurt to step on with bare feet.

But I recognize that each of the things in the world have a place. I recognize that there is a bigger picture other than what I like or want. I know mosquitoes help feed bats. I know those spiny gumballs grow big trees that supply oxygen to the world. I know that some people actually LIKE cucumbers and melon - and that's okay with me!

I don't think about the things I don't love much. But I do spend a lot of time thinking about the things I do love. And under no circumstances do the things that I don't love in this world make me want to hurt someone or something. There has never been an occasion I wanted to kill someone because they thought differently than me. Maybe I have been frustrated by our conversation or differences. But I never want to cause harm or pain. We have enough of that.

I don't know what the answers are right now. But I can't help but think that focusing more on what we love and have in common would be a good place to start.

So let's start here. With Love. Big, colorful, standout, proud love.

The edge of things

For those of you unfamiliar with pluff mud, it's been described as "the slippery, shiny brown-gray, sucky mud, with a distinctive smell like none other, of the tidal flats and spartina grass salt marshes.  Unpredictable in its sucking power, when you step in it, you could sink up to your ankles, or up to your knees, or even to your hips.  And if you sink up to your knees, you can pull yourself out, but do not plan on retrieving necessarily your shoes unless they are tightly laced."

Pluff mud is designed to trap you...suck you in and not let go. It's what borders us from the solid ground we are confident from which we safely stand and the fluid waters that will whisk us swiftly away from everything safe and secure and known. If you think too much, you'll get stuck there. You will be left trapped in the in-between, struggling to free yourself from a losing battle of man vs. mud.

Like any difficult edge, pluff mud is tricky to navigate. And it's always deeper and wider than you expect it to be. The struggle seems deeper when you have sunk hip deep in the sticky, silty, sucky mess. But you can get out. There is a way. You just have to make a choice. You can crawl back to the safe, dry land or float out to the unpredictable currents of water that can whisk you away to new places...parts undiscovered by your soul.

The choice is yours.

Country Roads

Steamboat Landing Road, Edisto Island

"Country roads, take me home to the place I belong..."
John Denver

Every once in a while, I grab a camera and set out for a spot I have never seen before. It seems to get harder and harder, but I keep finding hidden (to me) treasures wherever the roads lead me. Exploring has become sort of a personal project in my life as well as in my work. I seek to find things I haven't seen before. Even if they are familiar to the rest world, it's still all new to me. ANd isn't that the point of discovering and learning new things?

Somehow stumbling on a country road along these explorations makes me feel like I have found the ultimate treasure. That dirt road and the light streaming through the dripping Spanish moss tells me I have found what I was seeking all along. These country roads bring me where I always wanted to be in my heart.

They bring me home.

Breaking down

There is a remarkable beauty in the breaking down.

Love in a Roadside Stand

One of the things I love most about rural America is good roadside stand. In California, I stumbled upon this crusty Russian gentleman selling all things nuts and dried fruits (and a few cold drinks out of coolers for weary summer hikers). He was passionate about his products and let us taste anything we wanted to. He had pride in his work and was excited to tell us about his locally sourced products the most. 

I love to see passionate people. The ones who are so passionate about their product, they will risk the elements to sell their wares. They are often the best you will find anywhere around...most likely because they put all they have into this one small thing to make it perfectly like no other. They find the best resources, put the most love into it and know all the secrets to make what they are selling the best around - be it the most prolific pecan tree or the best fishing hole around. They know their products.

That quality, passion and attention to detail are what can set whatever you are working on apart from the rest of the world. Whether you are a mom or a marketing genius, a farmer or a photographer...it's the love, pride and attention of what you are producing is what makes the final outcome something the rest of us can believe in.

So that, to me, boils down to one thing - love. That's it. Pour your heart in and get something great in return. It's as simple as that.

It's in the details.

If you ask me, I think it's the details that make any photoshoot where I am telling a story complete. But this is particularly true at a wedding. Those small shots. The close ups. The tiny sidebars that tell fill in the details on the bigger picture. I always felt like they were the most interesting part. They are adjectives in the stories and the subtle punctuation at the end of each sentence you tell as you recount the day.

Other parts come into play as well...candid shots and final edits really make it complete and set a tone. But those details make you remember what the day felt like, and most importantly - how you felt in it.

I approach much of my photography like this: How will I tell this story in a photograph? Often, the job is to capture the story in one shot, one portrait. So then, a detail shot just isn't the thing. But I still try to make sure - no matter what to story I am telling - that you come away with a feeling.

Maybe then, the details are in the feeling you get from a photograph. The feeling is the theme, the adjectives and the punctuation. The feelings are hidden in the cake toppers and the colors, the little hands holding the rings and the crazy groomsmen busting a move on the dance floor. The details are hidden in the smiles and the eyes of everyone I photograph...just waiting to tell their own story.

Welcome home.

I think I found heaven on earth on my little excursion to California last month. Rolling hills. Mountains. Creeks. Forests. Farms. The ocean. And wine(!). Our trip to California was lovely in so many different ways - the climate, the people, the geography, the food, the culture - even the work I was there for that didn't totally feel like work at all. I will forever try to be getting back to this very spot for the rest of my days - lingering in farm life, sipping wines, and watching sunsets paint the vineyards magical colors.

Oh California - I miss you so. Thanks for welcoming me home.

Summer

Summer is about sandy feet and naps on the beach. It's about long walks in the woods and long nights by the campfire. It's about sun and salt and sea air. Or fishing poles and lakeside docks. It's about kicking off those shoes and doing something different, breathing into the extra space of longer days and even longer nights.

It's summer. Live in it. Love in it. Just enjoy every bit of it.

Luck

I don't believe much in luck. Luck leaves your fate to chance and silly superstitions laden in black cats, 4 leaf clovers and pots of gold at the end of rainbows. You are not in control of luck. It's in control of you. It chooses when and where and undermines your confidence and belief in yourself. If you believe in luck, you believe in giving your power away.

I do believe in gratitude and hard work. I know that the power of confidence and simply believing in yourself can take you to places you could never dream of and to places luck only dreams of.

You are in control of your very own destiny. You have the choice to put yourself where you choose by telling yourself a story luck doesn't understand. You have the power to make your life happen the way you see it - without the help of some random chance that a patch of clover can deliver.

I believe in the combined power of hard work and dreams. Because that is where our greatness lies.

That is where our power is. Hiding underneath it all, blocked by luck.

Giants

It is humbling...the presence of these trees. To stand in the glory of a giant Redwood tree is to be in awe of life as I know it. Their ripened age, their sheer size, the history they have seen.... It's an incredible experience. Once that I knew on my recent trip to the West Coast I must experience again in my lifetime.

Deep in the forest there is such a silence. Yet through the quiet stillness, you feel the energy. Water runs, breezes blow, birds busily build their nests, and creatures crawl swiftly across the forest floor in search of their next meal or their next home.

And yet, there they are - these grand trees. These Redwoods. The giants of our living world. There they stand - still and stoic amongst the bustle of life all around then. There they stand, supporting us all in their quiet stillness while they provide, shelter, nourish, and nurture - never asking for a thing in return.

To me, this is where I feel alive and protected. This is where I feel safe and still. These giants can't fail me. They can only protect. I know this in my heart.

And as I walk out of the forest, I am sure I can hear their gentle voices through the breezy afternoon whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

The one shot

Last weekend, I got to shoot the most amazing wedding I have ever photographed - on an estate in the middle of vineyards in Sonoma. On every level, this day was perfect - all the details and elements just seemed to fall effortlessly into place that day (thanks to MANY busy people!) All of the delicate details of this event were perfect in every way.

For me, this shot is the defining photo of Nick and Milena's special day. The whole day seems to stand still right here in this moment. It represents all of the their beauty as individuals, all of the loveliness of their special day, and all the inspiration on their journey as a new couple and family.

For me it's this shot...the one shot. 

I guess I can give them a few more, though.

Congratulations, Nick and Meeps! I am so honored and grateful to have been a part of this.

Forest and trees.

Taken for a client at Lake Greenwood, SC.

Sometimes I feel like I can finally see the clearing in the forest. The trees spread out, and the edge of the heavy, dark woods starts to disappear.

Then, like a blindfolded hostage, I am led back to the woods - to a new place - and left standing there trying to find my way back to the edge once again.