Life from the passenger's seat.

Shot from the passenger’s seat.

You miss a lot when you run life in the driver’s seat. There are so many details and intricacies you have to pay attention to when you are the driver. Your speed. Other drivers around you. Sudden animals or humans crossing the street. Weather. Directions. There is a lot to keep up with.

It’s true in life, too. When you are in the drivers seat, you have to pay attention to everything. You can’t miss a detail or you risk disaster. Details for the day, schedules, food likes of family members…you mind becomes a perpetual spreadsheet of information that needs to be cross referenced all the time.

This weekend, we went to dinner and for a rare moment, I was the passenger. I tend to be the driver because I get VERY car sick, so I drive a lot of the time. But on this day, for some reason, I let go and let someone else do the driving.

And you know what? It was glorious.

I wouldn’t have really been able to see this photo safely if I had been driving. I wouldn’t have noticed the few boat trails left on the water that evening by those last few boaters coming in from a long day on the water. I would have missed a bumper sticker that became an immediate inside joke between us.

You miss a lot when you are driving the ship because there is so much else to observe. But sometimes it’s nice to just let go and be the passenger. Watch the world go by from the passenger side window. Let someone else handle the responsibilities. You don’t always have to fix everything. You don’t always have to solve everything.

You can just let yourself be…lean in to being the passenger…lean in to the uncertainty of it all.

Sunrise, Sunset.

I feel the sun setting on this phase of my life recently.

I have felt it before. But maybe at the time it felt more like a storm passing through - grey clouds overhead, darkness creeping in. I have also felt it in ways that felt bright and new.

That’s what I feel this time. It feels more colorful…golden…hopeful.

I am not great with change (Is anyone, really?). I fight against it’s current even when it’s the best of circumstances. But right now, I am sort of letting this tide take me where it needs to because at the end, all I can see ahead are calm waters and golden rays.

Is it rose colored glasses? Maybe. Is it just that I am finally making changes on my terms? Most likely. Am I still fearful? Not really. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Most of all, I can’t wait to see the sun rise on the other side.

Spaciousness

Space.

I am looking for some space to clear my head these days. Clear my lungs.

I seek it everywhere. At my desk. On my back porch. Near the water. In the quiet of my bedroom. I need space. Air so full it washes over me like a waterfall - powerful and full of life.

So each day right now, I come here seeking that release… that special moment. Each day I come here to this very spot to find some sanity in this crazy, mixed up time. Hoping for the winds of change to speak to me.

__________

You see, I was healed here once before. My heart heavy with grief and fear, I walked this lonely mile every day wondering if life would get better. Each day, I made silent prayers to the universe that this, too, would pass and that one day, I would wake up and things would be bright again. Each day I seemingly got a message that life, indeed, does go on: a family of foxes playing in the grass; a bobcat resting in the shade, dolphins leaping out of the water, tails splashing; a pack of deer crossing right in front of me; an owl perched on a branch so obviously watching us, it gave me chills; blossoming jasmine; the scent in the air dripping heavy with honeysuckle. Life was there. Every day. It kept proving itself to me.

I kept showing up. Noticing things. Breathing in that fresh air I so desperately needed. The first days were hard. I felt like I had cinder blocks attached to me, to my heart. I dragged them behind like anchors weighing down my soul along with all the years of love and loss and pain and heartbreak I had gathered in those bags around my heart. I lost a sister, a mother, a father. I lost a family , an identity, a lover - all these things once knitted together, now frayed at the edges, torn apart by life.

But it was that air that kept me coming back. Full in my lungs. Clean. New. Blowing out the old, toxic air…the toxic thoughts. The grief and sorrow all washed away by the spaciousness I created.

_________

In the face of this time, I am admittedly not doing well. This stuff is hard. It’s scary. I feel the same anxiousness I did before, darkness seeping into my soul like the night stealing away light, forceful and stronger than me. But I know the light will chase away the darkness soon enough. Night always yields to day. The wind blows the old away, making room for new seeds to germinate.

The thing is that I know where to find the wind, the spaciousness I seek. I know it’s there. I just have to be patient and wait for it to come once again.

Floating with faith

“Faith is not a club to belong to, but a current to surrender to.” 
– Glennon Doyle Melton, Love Warrior: A Memoir

Faith is elusive. It's slippery and sneaky. It changes on a dime and curves in ways you would never expect. It looks calm and peaceful as a still river on top, but underneath is a roller coaster of twists, turns, dips and loop-dee-loops that you could never calculate looking at it all from your perched perspective. And just when you think you have caught up with Her... there she goes, slipping gently away again, just out of reach.

But maybe...just maybe...we are fighting too much against this current of faith. Maybe we are so used to fighting for a breath of air or struggling for our very own survival that this becomes our focus. We put our energy into staying above for air rather than floating with it - even if that means having to go under for a while. To surrender feels a lot like giving up or giving in to some of us.  We want a guaranteed outcome...a perpetual happy ending. 

I don't think faith is about the ending, though. It's not about surviving. It's not about gasping for air. It's about surrendering to a place you are destined to be. It's about flowing with the current rather than swimming against it's power. It's really just about trust.

So take a deep breath and jump in. Surrender some of that power you fight for.

Just give in...float... surrender.

On Unbecoming

From my shoot at Bray's Island, SC with Garden & Gun this month.

Today, I embark on my last scheduled shoot of the year. Now, normally I don't think much about this sort of stuff. But, you see, this year has been a little different for me.

This year, I took chances. I tried new things. I showed up when I didn't want to and exploded through boundaries I didn't know I even had. In this, a gentle but noticable transformation has taken place. Each small thing that has pushed me out of my comfort zone helped me to grow more. Each task helped me achieve something I didn't know was even possible. Each milestone and marker in the grass meant I had overcome something a little bigger and better than the last time.

Even when the chances I took were small and unassuming, the change was still happening inside. Little by little as I pushed through hurdles and boundaries I set for myself, an unfolding started to happen. I was unbecoming. This process has been a gentle teacher. This journey has been a peeling away of label after label, costume after costume, until I showed up stripped down to my real identity. I was unbecoming someone I thought I was. I was becoming the real me.

The unbecoming of the old me into the new me has been the best part of this journey. I am not saying it was easy. The good stuff never is. But each time I did something I never thought was possible for myself, labels started to fall away from me like water off a ducks back...rolling delicately one by one onto the ground below me and splashing into a puddle at my feet until I was ready to fly away from them all.

So each shoot became a milestone - a virtual marker in my journey back to me. Each phone call I received became an affirmation that I was, in fact, on the right path. Each compliment I heard made me sink into the new labels I was creating for myself – capable, strong, brave, worthy, talented.

Photography is a hard business to be in. It's competitive and cut throat. It's not for the faint of heart. Someone is always out there with better work, a bigger portfolio, top clients and fancier shoes. But honestly, it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Because ultimately, the competition you are holding yourself up against is you. The person you need to show up for each day and do better for is you. Competing with other photographers isn't worth it. Compete with yourself and your vision.

So today, as I look back at this past year and realize I have ultimately accomplished everything I set out to do, I will let this job be a swan song that will lead me into next year and propel me even further to my goals and farther from that person I never really was to begin with.