life
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.
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.
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. 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.
Tousled beach hair. Prickly, sticky, salty air. Twisty wind and choppy waves.
We are definitely in the thick of summer's beachy days.
“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.” Leonardo da Vinci
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.
One of the many little alleyways of Charleston.
Wander. Explore. Discover. Try a different path. Go a new route. Experience something unique. You never know where that little road might take you.
Time to sleep in and catch up. Time to stay up late and sleep in even later. Time to soak up the sunshine, let the wind blow our wild hair and smell the salty air for a few minutes more.
Time to read a book, eat some ice cream, watch a movie, and sleep in later than I should. Time for more sunsets on the beach with wine and warm water, laughter and love. Time for doing a little bit of nothing and a lot of everything.
Time for rest.
It's time for Summer.
Check the map. Check it twice. Know where you are headed. Not specifically, but generally. Know the direction. REALLY know it. Know the pit stops and time it takes. Just move in the general direction of your dreams. Point your compass and go.
And don't worry. You will get there. Just know there will be bumps in the road. And detours along the way. It's all good. It's all just part of the journey.
From a recent shoot at Ashley Hall School in Charleston, SC.
Never lose your sense of wonder, little one. Don't stop learning or dreaming or thinking about things - little bugs and big trees. Never forget to be curious about life, about the stars, about how this world actually goes on - day after day, year after year, producing more life and more variety than we can even imagine or see with our own eyes.
But, little one... never be the person who has to know all the answers. You don't. You don't have to know everything. Nobody does. After all, there is a freedom to not knowing things.
There is freedom in the wonder of it all.
Take time to appreciate the little things. In those details is where you will find your joy.
There is that one day for me every year that it suddenly feels like summer. The weather is warmer. The days are longer. And everyone's mood is lighter by far.
The day isn't marked on a calendar. It isn't circled in red marker with a highlighter over the word "Summer!" It just has a feel - sort of like I have crossed some invisible threshold to a space that allows me to linger a little longer and relax a little more. A place where I don't have to rush or wake up early or set a rigid schedule.
A day where we can all just say for a moment "Welcome back summer. Let's linger a while."
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.
From my shoot yesterday at Ashley Hall School.
Look at you girls.
Confident. Strong. Able. Smart. Believing in yourselves. You seem joyful and full of heart.
My wish for you is this: remember this moment. When I captured you, you didn't seem worried about your hair. You weren't thinking about your thighs. You were happy and free and light. You were using your bodies to run and jump and stretch. You were using your minds to think and solve and create. You were using your hands to touch and make and feel.
In a few years, you will compare yourselves to the others around you. You will look at people and think they have it made. You will wonder why you never measure up. You will look at yourself in the mirror and question if you are enough for this big, scary, crazy, judgmental world.
STOP.
Don't do this.
Remember your shining face. Look at how gleeful you are. Beautiful, open, and full of heart.
That's where your value is. This is your happy place.
So go out there. Run. Play. Think. Create. Feel. Because on the inside, this is who you will always be. A carefree spirit with walls that have yet to be built. Only a foundation of strength and courage.
Summer is on the way. She is whispering to us in the first blooms of the season. She is calling gently through her longer, lingering days. She is beckoning us with raising temperatures and promises of beaches and sand and salty, sun bleached hair.
Oh summer, you are coming back again....with your bounty and blooms and sun-kissed cheeks and everything that is good about you. I can hardly wait to float around in your wake right now.
Hurry up summer. We are waiting.
Let the wind carry you away. Let it move through you. Let it move the dust and move the debris you are carrying. Let it mess everything up. Let it blow up your skirt and mess up your hair.
Let it uncover you. Let it expose those parts of you that felt uncomfortable and scary. Just so you can really see those parts you were hiding from all along.
Charleston is full of gorgeous, well-maintained, overflowing, colorful window boxes. They dress the city in picture perfect color and texture, leaving the viewer to only imagine what's on the inside - a plentiful life filled with joy, warm meals, and loving hearts.
But as we all know, sometimes what's on the outside does not always reflect what is on the inside. We package ourselves neatly up to the world because the world doesn't always want to hear the ugly truth. We dress up all fancy - jewels and all - showing the world that the outside is what really counts. That way, meandering passers-by can feel good as they fantasize about our imaginary, perfectly curated lives that we present.
I have found that people don't always want to hear the big stuff. "How are you?" usually means "Tell me you are fine and we can both get on with our lives." But sometimes we want to show our real selves to the world - the scars and the pain we lug around every day are real and big. The battle we are fighting is huge. It's okay to need help with that. It's okay to look for solidarity in the eyes of a neighbor, a friend or a passer-by. Chances are they are just waiting to share their struggles too.
While I think some occasions call for keeping your cards close to you (the whole world doesn't always have to know your dirty laundry), I also think it's okay to share your pain on some levels. Because in that vulnerable, confusing space, we may just find the comfort of accepting ourselves just as we are - with or without that window dressing.
Just two 12 year old boys, doing 12 year old boy things.
I think we put a lot of pressure on kids these days. It seems to come from all directions too. There is pressure to get good grades, be great athletes, have loads of interests beyond the ordinary kids things, and be responsibly on their path to adulthood. It seems like we expect a great deal from them and leave little wiggle room for error from these learning, growing bodies and minds. They are expected to know so much at the young age of 12 and be able to self-regulate more than I ever remember doing at that age.
I have a very easy going boy who hasn't been hard to parent over these past 12 years. He hasn't needed much punishment. He follows most rules (I mean...he's 12...so, we are bound to break a few). And for the most part, he does what he is supposed to do.
When he has a misstep, I usually become overly frustrated with him. It's so out of character that I tend to probably react beyond what I should. I think this is in part to his easy nature coupled with the fact that he is physically larger than most children his age (he looks me eye to eye now and we haven't even started the real growing yet). I am always quick to assume he is beyond his years because of this, and as a result, typically forget in the moment that he is, after all, still just 12.
Twelve is a precarious age. His body is growing faster that you can say "GROWTH SPURT." But his mind is often still stuck in that little boy age - the age of nerf wars and yu-gi-oh card games. This age is a walking contradiction. The moodiness and boundary pushing are all part of the net result of the contrast between their growing bodies and their still underdeveloped little minds. Sure, hormones play a role in this, but I think this contrast and internal struggle are as much to blame for those epic moods I have been seeing these days.
While I am so excited to see what the world has to offer Graham and what Graham has to offer the world, I really still enjoy these moments that he is just a regular, ordinary, twelve year old boy - playing video games, making little inventions and having nerf wars with his buddies in the neighborhood. I treasure this sweet time with him and never take these small moments for granted. There is a whole lifetime ahead of him to meet deadlines and worry about the future that I am happy to take that burden away from him for a little while. Don't get me wrong...I still am helping him become a responsible person - we meet school deadlines and requirements, have a black belt in karate and chores he tends to around the house. I just think for a while that he needs to just be here in this space.
"...you never really stop missing someone – you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence." Alyson Noel
Every day, I think of them. But today, especially. Today I celebrate their presence in my life.
