Victory

Surfers Healing Event. Folly Beach, SC

The joy of victory is such an amazing feeling. That feeling when you accomplish something you thought was bigger than yourself is always something to celebrate - no matter how big or small. Victories are life's way of showing you strength that hides in places we often don't recognize.

This week, I got to witness hundreds of victories - small and large. I went out the the Surfers Healing event held on Folly Beach to photograph a friend of mine who was volunteering and dedicates a great deal of time to this event every year. And I am so glad I got to see this event first hand. The love, joy and pride everyone felt there was palpable. 

This event got me thinking about victories though. Victories come in all shapes and sizes. And honestly, they look different for everyone. But the end result is always the same - beaming pride and joyful triumph. I saw it in the joyful faces of the kids as they rode waves into the shore. I caught the pride in the parent's eyes as they watched this their children feel normal for a short period of time. And I felt victory resonate from every volunteer on the beach helping these sweet children accomplish something they thought was perhaps bigger than them. These were all victories to be celebrated. 

Victories don't need to be sought out though. They only need to be noticed. They only need a hand in saying - look, I actually did this thing that I thought was bigger than me or I thought I couldn't do. It could be raising a special needs child on your own. It could be making a meal from scratch. Or it could be catching a wave into the shore. Some things deserve the reverence of victory!

Whatever shape victories take in our lives, they need to be celebrated and honored. Revered and noticed. Otherwise, your victories - small and large - lose their impact. And everything just becomes no big deal.

So go ahead and cheer for yourself! Be blatant! Ride that wave and celebrate yourself! Just go ahead and be victorious!

Bendy Boozy

Bendy Brewski (or Boozy) at High Wire Distilling Co.

Last weekend, I punished/treated myself to a little yoga with my good friend Beth here. Beth runs an amazing business teaching yoga at breweries and distilleries around the area and throughout the Southeast. Her company - called Bendy Brewski Yoga - teaches yoga to all levels and follows it up with a drink. If you didn't know already, these are 2 of my very most favorite things in the world! So someone combining them just made sense....at least in my little world. 

On the morning I took this photo, she asked me to bring my camera to grab a few shot of the people and the class. In turn, because I am selfish and loveLOVEL-O-V-E doing portraits of people doing what they do, I asked her to pose for a photo for me! And thankfully she cooperated graciously and gracefully! I just love this girl! She is honestly one of the best people I know.

If you are curious or are interested in starting classes, Beth's classes are the place to begin. If you are a seasoned pro, they are still the place to be. Boy or girl. Short or tall. Generous or slim. She really does a great job with all levels and types.  So come out and visit me at one of her classes.

By the sea

We are happy by the sea.
Just you and me.
And a friend
or three.
Let's stay here and dance
in the waves
and romance
the notion of better days
and better nights ahead.
 

Happy Birthday, Dad.

A photo of my dad - taken 12 years ago today.

It never gets easier. The hole is always there, waiting to be opened up again. It's all at the surface - or just below - waiting for me to trip across some memory. Waiting for me to remember how many days, weeks, months, years it's all been since we last held hands...since you last called me "Love."

Years. How can it be years?

It is though....long days yield their way to short years. And it still all feels so fresh.

But today - today we celebrate. Because if it wasn't for you, none of us would be here. Not these babies you held in your lap so proudly. Not me. Not my sweet house on a quiet street with the light fixture we wrestled with that hot afternoon that still hangs over the table - just a little dustier now. The memories wouldn't be here of swims in the warm, southern ocean or grilled fish in the evening sunlight in the sweet house by the sea.

Without you, I wouldn't care about golf or tennis. I wouldn't have memories of roller coasters or road trips. I wouldn't know about puzzles or checkers or cards or counting change from the dryer. Toasting bread in the fire on those long, northern winter nights never would have happened. And I never would have learned how to sled or shovel snow or cuss like a sailor when I stubbed my big toe.

Who would have taught me to ride a bike or swim or sing silly songs in the late afternoon light. Who would have tucked me in safe to bed each night when I was always wanting to stay up just a few more minutes. And who ever would I have loved as much as all the stars in the sky and grains of sand in the ocean?

So today, I rejoice in you, Dad. I remember the good and not the bad. I remember the joyful and the sad. We had such great times together - so much time I am grateful for.  I only wish we could have carried on that party a little bit longer, just a little bit later into the night...just a few more minutes.

Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss you ever so much.

Silver Linings

A gorgeous Lowcountry Sunset on James Island.

There are days that feel so hard and overwhelming that I spend the better part of them looking for some illusive silver lining. I wait so anxiously to get to the end of it so I can just see a tranquil sunset or find some moment of joy after the drudgery is over that I forget to appreciate what the struggle is teaching me.

Today has been one of those days. I am spinning my wheels, frustrated by circumstances instead of breathing into the lesson. It doesn't mean I can't look forward to the end of it to watch the sky turn magical hues of rainbow sherbert and cotton candy. It just means that maybe in these moments of pushing against, I should try breathing into it and surrendering to the lessons.

Maybe that's where the silver lining of my day is actually hidden - inside these little life lessons I have been trying to get through so quickly.

Time to breathe. And appreciate the day.

Part of my reality

It's funny to me how social media has changed our perspectives on reality. And I fall for it every time... "Why does their life look so amazing?" "Why am I not doing that?" "I need to step up my photography/life game." "They are SO lucky." Thoughts of an inadequate life rush into my head. Doubt begins to trump confidence and I stand on shaky ground.

Ironically, when I look back through my own Facebook photos and Instagram feed, I look like one of those people I seem to be wishing my life emulated. How can this be? What am I missing that I feel like my life doesn't look like this?

I think perhaps the reality of Life happens in between these delicious moments and take over the share of our brain. Laundry, grocery lists, and errands become front and center rather than these sweet spaces in between the shadows.

I know most of my life tends to look like a vacation according to Facebook. My Instagram account looks like a dream. And my Steller account make me appear to be the globe trotter I wish to become one day. But the reality is, that's only part of my reality. It just happens to be the parts I want to remember. I don't want my life to be a story of laundry and errands. I would much rather remember the lingering moments of joy that connect the rest.

Memory

Yesterday we went for a ride. It wasn't long. Or significant. It was just...different. We don't have a great neighborhood for biking and exploring. It's rather small and bordered by some busy streets which makes it hard for us to explore the rest of the surrounding areas. So I love getting out of here and doing something a little new. So yesterday, I decided we needed to ride bikes through the local county park for a change of scenery.

I haven't been doing nearly enough of this over the course of this summer...or even my life. And the older He gets, the more out of reach it all feels. But these days are fleeting. I have realized that more this summer than ever before. I can feel it coming like a summer storm over the horizon. He is getting older. Changing daily. He is becoming more and more weary of my company - as teenagers do. But I persist and demand...because I can. After all, this is part of the growing process, isn't it?

So while I struggled to push the pedals around on my rental with low tires, I watched him glide effortlessly in front of me, pointing to flora and fauna, asking questions, remarking on things, and speaking of things 13 year-old boys speak of. And I watched and listened and responded when I could. And struggled along behind, trying to keep up with him - as I feel will be the theme over the next 5 years. 

So now, the memory is there. It's permanent and locked away in my heart. Nothing can take it away. I may not remember the details surrounding it all. But I will remember the feeling I have today - happy I had a few more moments to steal. Happy to spend time with the one I love the most. Happy to be forever his momma - no matter what path life takes us down.

A Summer Walk

Scenes from a summertime walk. Sticky weather. Salty air. And sulfury smells.

I wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

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.

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.

Everything is beauty full

Look around you. There is something beauty full right around you.

You just have to want to see it.

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.

Baby Love

Baby love. On the beach.

Sweet, sweet baby love. This shoot with Monica and her sweet family seems surreal in a way. I knew her when we were both single, young professionals and our lives were much, much different. Now here we are, years later, with kids of our own and families to take care of. It seems like a lifetime has gone by in a few short years.

Lucky for both of us, it's a lifetime of love and memories.

I see the World.

I see the World right here. It stops and I am paralyzed for a moment.

I see lost treasures and hidden coves with magic inside. I see undiscovered places and healing hearts not longing or wanting for anything at all in the world. Mostly, I see love and a belonging that is unparalleled.

My hope for us all is this - to simply see beauty and love and kindness in as many places as we can. And then, when we can't see it, we have to make it for ourselves and share it with the world.

Create love. And share it. Isn't it that simple?

Beach Days

Tousled beach hair. Prickly, sticky, salty air. Twisty wind and choppy waves.

We are definitely in the thick of summer's beachy days.

Work

The sophistication of this outfit is beyond measure. Gorgeous (and extremely lovely) woman in an impeccable dress in a remarkable setting. It doesn't get much better.

If you haven't already (and I am not sure why you haven't), go check out my girl Andrea Serrano for more on fashion and style over at Charleston Shop Curator.

Learning to fly

I recently posted this photo of my boy on my personal Facebook page. It got some unusual attention from friends and family alike - not because it's a particularly good photograph, but perhaps because of the caption I wrote with it:

"My heart. Just roaming this planet. All exposed to the elements and the cruelty and the joys of life. With no protective gear. Just some love from his momma. I do love him ever so much."

I think this resonates with all of us, doesn't it.

To me, parenting is a lot like watching my heart roam naked around the planet. All the vulnerability we have is exposed to the elements - joy, pain, fear, frustration, love -  walking around with nothing to protect them. That's how it feels to be this person's mother.

When they are little it's easier. They stay closer. And the problems are more clear cut: I'm hungry. I'm tired. I'm wet. I'm frustrated. But as they grow and learn and start to spread their wings and fly, the issues life deals them aren't so black and white. Problems become more complicated. The topography of life changes - the dips in the road, the twists and turns, the mountains to climb...they are all there. And all you can do for them is sit and watch and hope you have done a good job at giving them a half-way decent road map to all of it.

As my son ages, the complexity of parenthood becomes more and more apparent. Gone are the days of kissing boo boos away, wiping the tears and giving him a Popsicle to forget his troubles. There are no more easy distractions from frustrations, pain or hurt. He is just there. Exposed to it all.

And learning to fly on his own.

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.