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Cracked wide open

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There are a few times in my life when I have been broken apart. It's the kind of cracking open where you never quite put yourself back together the same way - in the way a seashell gets broken open after housing something so delicate and tender for so very long. You feel permanently broken in some way. And while these breaks can be repaired, the fracture leaves you vulnerable and wounded - fleshy soft innards now exposed. 

As it turns out, while being cracked wide open can be painful, it is also somehow beautiful as well. It leaves you changed, but somehow ready for something new. There is more space to fill up with less of what you don't need there anymore. There is more room for all the important things - growth, expansion, love, freedom. There is now room for learning and becoming something new. There is space in the vulnerability.

The thing I have learned is this: the beauty often comes from the breaking. The best part comes after all the smoke dissipates and the clean up begins, because what you are left with is often precisely what you needed to begin with.

Broken. Beautiful. Wounded. And ready for change.

Giving Thanks

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Yesterday was another Thanksgiving. Another reason to pause and show gratitude for the things we have which isn't a tall order for most of us in this country. Our forefathers took over one of the prettiest frontiers of the planet filled with lush forests, dry deserts and vast fields to live a life most people only dream of in their lifetime. We owe grace to that.

Yet still, for some, there are days it's hard to find grace in the mix. Things go wrong. Family gets sick. Relationships crumble out from underneath us. And money can be hard to come by in our society which is focused today on more abundance than I think yesterday was built on. It's hard to find a balance in that. It's hard to say "I'm lucky" when we are feeling less than so.

But pause for a moment. Look around you. Remember the things that matter most. Find something you have that fills you up. Sometimes it's family or a friend. Sometimes it's the place you live or a pet you couldn't get by without every day. Some days it's merely that you have a roof over your head, food in your refrigerator and a soft place to lay your head each night.  Whatever it is, find the gratitude within it and give it the honor it deserves.

Today - on the day after Thanksgiving - I am grateful that I have people I love, a roof over my head, clean water to drink, freedom, the best bed in the south, and some seriously good deep fried Turkey. I have it all, even when I don't.

Everything I need is there...right in front of me, just waiting to be appreciated.

 

Little chicken

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My dad used to call me little chicken growing up (one of the more endearing nicknames he had for all of us.) Every time he said it, this is exactly what I pictured in my head: strong hands protecting his little fluffy, vulnerable babies. Some days, this is all I want...strong hands gently holding me until I am ready to fly away, but always open and waiting for me as a safe place to land once again.

 

 

In plain sight...

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If you spend anytime on the beach, you spend time combing the shores for little treasures. Conch shells, sand dollars, and still in tact bi-valves are always fun to come across. But the real treasure lies in finding the sharks teeth along the shores. They are like tiny little treasures from the sea just waiting for your magical eyes to find them.

Shark teeth seekers are easy to spot on any beach - a slow meander while hunched over looking at the ground, occasionally flicking things around and letting the rubble fall away.  There is an apparent gift in combing for shark teeth that I have yet to master. I have tried all summer to find one and have yet to be successful. But there are some that come by this gift naturally, as if the Universe donned this gift only to them - the special ones.

Each morning I stop off at a little cove in Charleston called Sunrise Park. It's got gorgeous views and is a great place to start my busy day. As I was combing the beach this morning, I kept discarding piles and piles of shells. I sat, hunched over, sifting through the sand handful by handful, looking for the tiniest teeth out there. It was a hugely unsuccessful effort. Discouraged, I gave up.

As I sat there watching the sun come up, I got ready to gather my things. I looked down at the discarded pile of rubble when I noticed something. No...not shark teeth. But in the rubble were a million little shells - broken, crumbled, and beautiful. Shells I had never noticed here before. Little lettered olives. Tiny bi-valves. Itty bitty channeled whelks. And tiny banded tulip shells. All there right in front of me. All discarded because I was so fixated on finding something I thought I wanted...I thought I needed.

I got to thinking, maybe this is true for life. Maybe we are so fixated on the thing we are looking for that more often than not, we are discarding other beautiful opportunities that are right in front of us just waiting to be seen. We walk through our days so concerned with the one thing we don't have that we don't see all the other small things right there in plain sight.

Photography is all about seeing things. It's about waiting for the right moment, the right light, the right angle and they right timing to see what you came looking for. And sometimes in the course of this, you end up getting something totally different but equally as amazing. Like an unexpected gift in the sand, you always get something great. You just have to be open to all the possibilities.

I may not have the gift of the Shark Teeth Seekers. But that's okay. For now, I will sit back on the shore and admire them from afar. I have other gifts. I can see things they don't even know are there.

Gifts that are right there...in plain sight.

Underneath the costumes.

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When you wear your vulnerability on the outside, your days can be a real struggle with balancing how much or little to reveal about yourself to the world. For me, this is a daily challenge. 

I am, in the deepest and truest form of myself, a very vulnerable human. I tend to wear it loudly. Knowing how much to reveal about myself is both a struggle and a gift. Most of the time, I look for the safe places - like the well-lit, pumpkin carved houses on Halloween night...they look warm, inviting and cozy from the outside. But often those same character traits are harder to see in humans. We don't wear our acceptance on the outside all the time. So many days, I just find myself trying to blend in in this world.

The problem with blending in for me is that it becomes as obvious as a glittered princess costume on Halloween night. I can't hide that it's really me under here. My authenticity has a way of stripping me bare and revealing who I really am to the world in the same way you can see that those trick-or-treaters are perhaps not TRULY superheroes just because they are wearing the shiny, glittered costume that says so. Those costumes show the world both what we are hiding from and what we dare wish to dream to become. We end up revealing a little too much in the hiding of our authentic selves.

We train our kids when they are little to dream big and for a moment let them become something they are not. But is that the right thing for them to learn...to cover up who they really are? Why can't they go as their authentic selves? Why can't we trick-or-treat as the vulnerable versions of who we are? "Trick-or-treat!!! I am feeling down and scared of my life today. I hate my hair and my boss is mad at me again....can I have some candy? Or should I just toilet paper your front trees since you aren't going to help me?" This seems like a much better idea than covering up our truth, hiding who we are struggling to get away from by throwing a super hero or (even worse) princess costume on ourselves.

Now don't get me wrong....I admittedly love seeing the kids run from house to house in their best costumes on Halloween night, proud parents standing at the street, sugar high kicking in right on my front porch. I love that people go all out for something - decorating every surface of their homes and selves for a cause. It seems to be almost spritual. But I can't help but wonder if we would all be better just presenting our authentic selves out there instead of the pretend versions we send out into the world every day. I can't help but wonder what all this covering up is for in the first place.

The world isn't made for vulnerability. So I will keep trying to blend in. And I will keep failing miserably at it. Because in truth, I just can't help anymore but to be who I really and truly am. Fully me...even under all this costuming.

Hidden beauty

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Tomatoes. Shot for Plate South.

There is beauty everywhere - just waiting to be discovered.

It's waiting to be found in the corners of your world. It's waiting to be seen in the most obvious of places. It's in the simplest of things and the most complicated places. It's always there...a part of life that eagerly and patiently awaits your discovery. You just have to want to see it.

Indeed, there is beauty everywhere. But it's your job to go and find it.

Trust the outcome

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Jim Martin. Compost in my Shoe. Farm shoot, Fall 2016.

You have to do the work...

Work the land. Plant the seeds. Till the soil. Weed. Water. Mulch. And watch with patience as things develop.

The good stuff takes time and love and reckoning with things you might not be prepared for. But the rewards are great.

Take your time. Do the work. Trust the outcome.

Lessons in a foggy morning.

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The other morning on my sunrise walk, without warning, the fog began to roll in at a rapid pace. We usually see fog come in from the sea at night around here, quickly burning off after the sunrise, but this fog came in from the land AFTER the sunrise. I thought I heard someone yelling to me, as if to warn me of it's impending arrival, but I couldn't be sure that my mind wasn't playing tricks on me.

The whole thing was so disorienting. You couldn't see very far in front of you which made me feel as if I was suddenly going the wrong way or something was going to be there that perhaps shouldn't be. Briefly, I felt like I didn't know my right from my left or which direction I had come or where I was supposed to be going. Instead of panicking like I wanted to (it's been a theme for me lately), I held on to what was true and what I did know. I trusted my senses - my hearing, touch (dry sand/wet sand) and what sight I had left - to lead me where I knew to go. Eventually, I ended up exactly where I had started, heading to the water and following it to back to the boardwalk and then on to my car.

This is something that happens daily for us. The fog rolls in leaving us disoriented. Sometimes you don't know where you are supposed to go. So you evaluate your choices. Sit and wait for it to pass. Or follow your instincts and carry yourself onward. Either is a good choice. Both will get you out of it. But both rely on you trusting yourself.

If you ask me, the trust is the hardest part. When we are hurting or down, our trust in ourselves can waiver. It can be shaky and confusing. It can be disorienting to feel along in our own fog. But most likely, you know what to do. Stop panicking. Breathe. Trust. You will almost always end up where you need to be.

 

Into the woods

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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.

 

A Few Things

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Plate South

It's been hard to keep up with what I am working on these days. My job takes me from babies to brunches to beautiful women and everything in between.  I am months behind on blog posts and image posts and all the things I want to tell everyone about each amazing day I had - every one seemingly better than the one before it. Here is a short view of some of my latest shoots. I love every delicious bit of my work and I am always grateful I get to carry a camera around with me and take photos of the BEST things in the world!

The Real Picture

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No matter what my shoot - be it commercial, personal, editorial - and no matter what my subject, I am always trying to tell the story. I am always trying to covey something with my images - mood, story, or feeling.

One of the hardest things to do is to let that happen with shoots that have expectations. Whether people are trying to pose for traditional Christmas card photos or whether I am working on a commercial shoot for a big client, most people have trouble letting go and letting things evolve during our time together. Sometimes the mood isn't quite right. Or what they thought looked good in their head looks awful in camera. So I sometimes have to convince my clients to just let things be as they are. I have to show them how to trust me. So we wait sometimes....longer than normal. And we let things happen as they need to.

As a photographer, this is one of the hardest parts of my job. It requires my clients not having attachments to the outcome. Mostly, it requires a large level of trust in me and what I am doing. 

Admittedly, this is even hard for me at times. It not only requires them trusting me, but it requires me trusting myself. When a client has paid a large sum of money to do something...believe me, my goal is to deliver a product that they love every.single.time. But there has to be a letting go in the process. Both from them and from me.

In this shoot, we were trying to get a specific shot...newborn twins with momma. But the 2 year old toddler had something else in mind. He wanted to be in on it – on the bed, bouncing from all the sugary snacks we were feeding him in bribery to behave. He was done...finished with me and this day by this time...buzzing with sugar and ready for attention. This tells so much more of the real story. A young mom, hands full with identical twins and a toddler, life moving at a blurred pace.

And honestly, this is the story. This is what she will remember for the rest of her life. Not just a pretty picture, but a real one.

A day off

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An iPhone shot of my long day away.

This weekend, after working for about 4 weeks with no break, I did something uncharacteristically me. I took a whole day off. No emailing. No photo editing. No picture taking (except with an iphone). Nothing. I needed to get away from social media, email, photoshop and all the things that pull me in a million different directions.

This happened after a bit of a realization on my end on Saturday and something I admitted out loud: I wasn't happy.

Don't get me wrong. I am filled with appreciation and gratitude for everything I DO have in my life. But something wasn't jelling with me. Too much work and stimulation. Not enough downtime. Too much pleasing everyone. Not enough pleasing myself. There have been deadlines and hustling and meetings and computer time. But everything in my life felt a little chaotic.

This was a sign to me that I was overdue some time to decompress. I needed to do something for me. Self care and self preservation is most important. So, I headed to the beach where I always feel like I can breathe again and plopped myself down and decided to just BE.

I talked to a friend. I sat and stared at the waves. I watched my son swim and frolic in the sea. I walked along the edge of the shore. I dug my feet in the sand and let it crumble between my toes. I did all of this, over and over again, until I felt better. I did it until I realized that all the things we feel and see and want are all only dictated by the stories in our head. I did it until i realized what I really wanted was right in front of me, right at that very moment. Peace. Love. Friends. Family. It was all right there.

Often when we go seeking what we want more of, we realize it's been right there with us all along. For me, it's always been helpful to strip away the noise...the cell phones, the computers, the deadlines and the things-to-do lists. I can come back to what's real and what's most important...

For me all it boils down to is love. Pure and simple love.

On feeling safe

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I think there is an element to all of us that wants to feel protected, safe and embraced. Somehow, though, the older we get, the harder this is to achieve - or at least admit outloud. We are supposed to protect ourselves and be strong enough to hold ourselves up. We shouldn't need the strong arms of protection wrapped around us at 14 or 44 or 84. There is this unspoken expectation that we should just automatically feel that we can deal with anything life throws at us no matter what.

But life is scary and hard and overwhelming when you go it alone - trust me, I know. And truthfully – on some level – I think we all want to feel safe. So how can we feel safe and embraced and protected where we are? What are the things that ground us into feeling this way? Is it money in the bank? Friends that have your back? A strong family support? Is it love? Does love simply by definition make us feel safe?

The more we talk about this, the easier it seems. Showing vulnerability makes lots of (but not all of) those we love come out and show empathy. We find our tribe when we become vulnerable. We find those that say "me too" and "you've got this" and "I have your back." Perhaps that's all we really need - to feel a sense of belonging in the world. And every so gently, the strong arms that protected us when we were oh so little turn into simple phrases like "I love you." "I am here for you." "I have got your back." "You've got this." 

As Tall as the Trees

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“Walk tall as the trees, live strong as the mountains, be gentle as the spring winds, keep the warmth of the summer sun in your heart and the great spirit will always be with you." Native American proverb

Those mighty live oaks that blanket the lowcountry are iconic. With their complicated branches reaching and bending, twisting and turning towards the sunshine and rain, they are the epitome of shelter, comfort and strength. They are home to animals and plant life alike. They are shade from our sweltering summer heat. They are protection from the elements for so many life forms.

Sometimes I take their strength for granted. Walking by them, leaning on them, finding comfort beneath there embracing branches. I curse the clean up every spring and fall as they shed leaves by the truckload. I get frustrated by their acorns scattered on my back deck as they jab into my bare feet. I mutter under my breath as I drag their broken branches blown down from a storm to the curb.  But there they stand - steadfast and strong every day - not asking for anything from anyone...only wanting to be there so they can serve to protect us. 

If a tree were a human, I would like to think I wouldn't feel this way. I would like to think I would embrace and love that person, despite their leaves they let haphazardly fall around or their acorns they drop clumsily every so often. I would love to think that despite these perceived shortcomings, we all have the space to be loved just as we are - broken branches, messy piles, and thick trunk and all.

Maybe as we move through life, we should remember the trees. Selfless and strong, bowing to nothing. Changing for nobody. And always protecting those around us, regardless of who they are. 

 

 

On becoming the spark

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The Dave Matthews Band last week at the N. Charleston Coliseum. Taken with my trusty iPhone.

How do we stand out in a crowd? How do we become noticed instead of one of the masses? How do we move from the crowd onto the stage and into the spotlight of our own lives?

I watched an interview with Dave Matthews (yes, THAT Dave Matthews) a few weeks ago. In the interview, he spoke about a turning point in his life. He said when he was young, singing in the living room his father turned to him and said "Son, you sing so well that you can even sing off key on purpose. That's incredible!" This was a turning point for him. He said he knew at that moment he was going to be a musician. That became his belief. That became his mission. He knew he loved what he did, but one person validated him and it was a done deal.

As a photographer, I think about following my passion and standing out in a sea of talent almost daily. The quest for getting noticed can be real and strong at times - much the same as I imagine musicians to feel.  So what is it that puts you in the spotlight over a million others out there?  Is it luck? Confidence? Kindness? Sheer determination and a will? Or is it someone believing in you just like Dave Matthews' father did for him all those years ago?

I think it's perhaps a combination of elements for most of us. But what I know for sure is that the more you believe you can do it, the more likely it will be to happen for you. Like any energy in the world, it just needs something to get started. A spark. A drop. Something to give it momentum and speed.

Just remember, always, that the spark starts with you first.

 

 

Summertime

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A little look at our iPhone summer.

Summertime in Charleston is full of beach days and pool time, flip flops and wet swimsuits, picnics and prosecco.

We don't always have the budget to travel to exotic locations every year or to go on exciting adventures every weekend. But we do have the budget to go to the beach for a few hours to ride the waves, search for sharks teeth (my new summer obsession) or watch a few sherbet-colored clouds float by the fading summer sky.

We get to dance for a little while longer under these lovely, lingering summer skies. And I plan on doing more of this. More meals by the sea. More days lived by the rhythm of the waves. More schedules set by sunrises and sunsets. And come August 15th, I will sigh a little more heavily as our once simple days wash out in the waves once more.