Recycle

Prince George, BC -- Canada:

Reduce.

Reuse.

Recycle.

(Ridiculous.)

Happy Halloween!

I Don't Want To Wait

Dawson Creek, BC -- Canada:

So open up your morning light,

And say a little prayer for I.

you know that if we are to stay alive.

Then see the peace in every eye.

- Paula Cole

just seemed appropriate....

At The End Of The Day

On a bus somewhere between Regina, SK and Edmonton, AB, -- Canada: At the end of the day, it really doesn't matter that you've been in travel hell for the last two days.

It doesn't matter that there were flight delays due to weather... and then for mechanical reasons.

It doesn't matter that you had to send 4 of your band on alone to Chicago.... and then to Minneapolis and get hotel rooms for them and worry about their lost baggage.

It doesn't matter that the other 6 of you had to go back home after spending 5 hours in the airport, only to return the next morning at 4:45am.

It doesn't matter that once you were almost ready to board your 6am flight you got a text from one of them who may not be making the flight because of a little altercation in security.

It doesn't matter that you spend all day on the phone with United Airlines... and then Delta... and then United again (and again and again)... explaining the same situation over and over again.

It doesn't matter that you had to drive back to the airport after the show, praying the whole way there that the bags would show up because that was the last flight that night and we're moving onto a new city... which would mean we'd have to start this whole thing over again.

What matters is, at the end of the day:

we got there,

we did it

and we got 'em!

it's the little things, really...

Baby G (with B&C)

Nashville, TN: Though a bit drained from the past week's travels, I spent the morning enjoying a beautiful fall day, delicious homemade brunch and quality time with friends making a stop in Nashville during their cross-country move from Miami to San Diego.

I debated on bringing with my camera with me (just not feeling as inspired as I'd like), but once I saw those baby blues, I was so grateful I could capture a few moments (before the walking & talking stages take over).

Below are a few of my favorite pics of Baby G and her parents, B&C. Wishing the three of you luck and love on this new chapter of your life.... and can't wait to visit!

baby blues

lovebirds

G with C

G with B

Baby G ready for new adventures!

Photograph

Fargo, ND:

The photograph

isolates

and

perpetuates

a moment of time:

an important and revealing moment,

or an unimportant and meaningless one,

depending upon the

photographer's understanding of

his subject and mastery of his process.

~ Edward Weston

Memory

Minneapolis, MN:

What a strange thing is memory, and hope;

one looks backward, the other forward;

one is of today, the other of tomorrow.

Memory is history recorded in our brain,

memory is a painter, it paints pictures

of the past and of the day.

- Grandma Moses

Katie Lynn & Thomas: The Wedding

On a bus somewhere between Buffalo, NY & Nashville, TN: On a perfect barely-into-the-fall day, I had the honor of witnessing the union between friends Katie Lynn and Thomas... from behind a camera lens, that is. As you may recall, I took engagement photos for them just a few weeks prior to their big day and now, I was ready to capture a few more magical memories. Of course, I'm a bit of a perfectionist (who me?), so it's taken me all this time to actually go through the bazillion (give or take a few zillion) pictures, add a bit of Lightroom love and find a CD somewhere in my mess so I can hand them over to the happy couple.

Plus, I figure I'd better move fast and get these wedding pictures done since they just let me know they'll be needing my services again... in 9 months. :)

Here are a few of my favs.... congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Gooch!

Mosaic

Philadelphia, PA:

Winter is an etching,

spring a watercolor,

summer an oil painting

and autumn a mosaic of them all.

~Stanley Horowitz

Focus

Pittsburgh, PA:

Transformative Focus By Anthony Strano

(from Just A Minute)

Taking just a minute

I sit quietly.....still.

I begin to see

how the habit

of getting stuck

in negativity

has derailed my mind

into fear and anger.

Now,

in this moment of quiet concentration

I decide to transform

every negativity

into a positive opportunity

to create betterment.

In this quietness of mind

I feel free...

light....

I become confident.

Now I step out into my day,

observing and interacting

with new clarity

and positivity.

Free.

Nashville, TN: Two years ago, I went on a women's photography retreat in Hawaii, led by the author on the how-to book on Polaroid Image Transfer & Emulsion Lifts. In theory, the experience should have been life-changing, since I had already been creating my own pieces of this type of art since 2004, but as most things go in life (specifically on retreats... hmmm....), it didn't happen quite as I had planned.

Days before I headed to the Big Island, I had encountered some personal turmoil, so the majority of my stay in one of the most seemingly beautiful places in the world was clouded by a mix of disappointment, anger and sadness. Then, I was frustrated that the retreat was turning more into a photo shoot of the island instead of a focus on the art techniques which drew me there in the first place. When we finally did get to work on our own transfers & lifts, I was losing patience with myself because I didn't feel like anything I created was good enough.

And then there were the roosters. The loud, annoying, punctual roosters that work me up every morning at 4am. But that's another story....

However, there was one small piece of art I made during my week that became the apex to the trip. I found a small rock in the shape of a heart. I took a picture of it and photoshopped it red. Then I printed it out to an 8x10 photo. I cut the photo into fours and transformed each corner into its own emulsion lift. Carefully, cautiously and honorably, I pieced the heart back together again.

It wasn't perfect -- it never could be after it was cut apart the way it was -- but the only way it was going to be put back together again at all is if I did it myself. I adhered it to canvas and added some red scratches and cuts around it -- war wounds, if you will. Finally, I searched for a title to the piece; a bow to add to the finished package. When it came to me, I decided to add it directly on the piece itself:

Free.

Art is up for interpretation, so I don't necessarily want to explain my exact meaning behind it. However, simply creating the piece itself gave me a freedom I had been searching for in quite a while. And even today, two years later, I can look at that piece, now on my bedside table, and be grateful for the freedom I still feel today.

I've decided to take my art one step further and enter it into a contest on the website AlternativePhotography.com. It's for placement in their 2011 calendar. It's all voter-based and there are 96 other entries (but there's only one other emulsion lift entry!) and if I got chosen as one of 12 winners, all I'd win is a free calendar and perhaps a free photography manual. So, it's really not a big deal, but I would love to have my piece of art out in the world. And perhaps have others see the beauty of (my version of) truly being free.

You can vote HERE by Saturday, October 16.

Did He Say Tomato?

Sewanee, TN: Throughout high school, I went on a handful of retreats called TEC. First, I was an attendee, then I was a behind-the-scenes worker, finally I was a leader. There was something magical about each time I went: the sharing, the stories, the laughter, the prayers, the community, the crosses-made-of-nails that each person left with and would pass onto another at his or her next retreat. So, in my mind, when I hear the word "retreat," I think of it not only as a time to get away from the normal day-to-day, but also a time to have a list of activities planned (by someone else, thankfully) to enhance my spiritual journey.

What I seemed to have misinterpreted is that just because you've been on ONE retreat does not mean it is the blueprint for ALL retreats.

Case in point: I am at St. Mary's Sewanee, a lovely hour-and-forty-minutes-away-from-Nashville-retreat-center, attending the coveted buddhist retreat. I say coveted because when I got an email about the retreat back in July and responded almost immediately with great interest, the initial response from the center was, "sorry, it's already booked, but we can put you on the waiting list."

Which, of course, only made me want to do it more.

Turns out someone decided to be a commuter for the 3 day event (whom I actually knew.... divine intervention?), leaving one room open with two double beds. I happened to be first on the list (I like to think of myself in the highest level of the lower class) and jumped at the chance. I began studying meditation two years ago and though I barely make time to practice it anymore, I have found more understanding in the mix of Buddhism & Christianity than any other religion I have attempted to discover. The author of the book explaining the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism will be leading the retreat and it's my own free weekend this whole month -- so it fit perfectly into my tightly-scheduled life.

I pack up the car and head to former therapist / new friend's house, who will be joining me as my roommate for the stay. I had big plans for the insightful weekend we were going to be sharing but as soon as we hit stand-still traffic on the way there, I realized things are usually not the way we plan them.

After we get situated into the dorm-like facility and have our first Dharma talk, we are told that this will be a silent retreat (including writing notes to our neighbors). Hmmm. This was NEVER indicated in anything I read about this retreat. Plus, we are to stay off of email, phones, texts, etc. Double hmmm. I know I have a problem of being a little too connected to technology but I would like to at least text my love goodnight before I go to sleep. How damaging can that really be?

It turns out this whole experience has been much more uncomfortable than I had planned. I was expecting to be stimulated, to have discussion, to be engaged. Instead, most of the day is made up of Dharma talks (not discussions), I have fallen asleep through EVERY sitting meditation we've done and can't help but notice that the 100+ people doing the very intentional (and slow paced) walking meditation outside is very reminiscent of a zombie movie. It's not that my mind won't shut off, it's that I can't seem to settle into the fact that for 3 days, it's all about focusing on the here & now, not the what-happened-then or what's-going-to-happen-in-the-future (which is the point of this retreat, I get it).

Tonight, I got my respite. In the evening talk, Phillip was telling a story about Ajahn Sumedho, a Buddhist master who began who began his practice by moving to a monastery in Thailand for a year with only one booklet on the four noble truths and speaking no Thai. In the midst of Phillip revealing great insight that Sumedho discovered through his year-long reflection in silence, I hear the sweet old man sitting in front of me whisper to his wife,

"did he say tomato?"

I threw my hands over my mouth, hoping to not let any of the laughter I had coming out of my mouth escape. The simple sound similarity of Sumedho and tomato was exactly what I needed to hear to break up the seriousness and focused mental headspace I had been in since I got here. So, this weekend isn't exactly what I thought it was going to be. So, sitting quietly and staying away from technology is not my strong suit (noted by this blog). But, I'm learning that sometimes it takes just a little humor to snap me out of my resistant funk and remind me that all of this deep spiritual searching is really just showing up for life the way life is as it is, not necessarily as I want it to be.

And sometimes that humor comes in the form of a tomato.

W Is For...

Dallas, TX: W is for the hotel I am currently sitting in. I love Ws because you can be guaranteed of a few specialties no matter which one you go to. Travel sized Bliss Fabulous Foaming Face Wash, big fluffy beds with crisp white bed sheets, ultra chilled ambient lobby music and overpriced room service menus. Ok, I guess that's at every hotel.

But as I sit on top of my comfy home for the night, not wanting to mess up the perfectly folded sheets just yet, I sift through my reader and find a few other Ws I'm enjoying and want to share.

W is for Wedding Blogs. Don't get too excited - it's not MY wedding I'm talking about, it's the research I've been doing for my favorite non-profit in order to help them drum up some new business. It makes me laugh because somehow I - the ultimate single gal - is now considered a "wedding professional" in certain circles. In any event, one of my favorite parts about discovering this whole world is reading wedding blogs. One of my favorites is by an already-married blogger named Louise. Or, as she's known in blog-land, The Thirty Something Bride. Her latest blog, The Gimp, is just great. It talks a bit about wedding stuff, but overall it's about letting go of control. And not running away from things. And not being able to successfully shave her right armpit. You just gotta read to get it.

W is for This Woman's Work. Such a beautiful song. I vaguely remember a tear dropping out of Kevin Bacon's eye while it played in "She's Having A Baby." Of course, I hadn't thought about it in years until I recently listened to it again via Seamstress For The Band, a blog I stumbled upon only God knows how. The Seamstresses combine poetry with music, each posting containing an MP3 (which they suggest you purchase if you like) that plays like background music for their musings. I truly felt the ache as I read their latest. Like most songs, you know that story wasn't written exactly for you and isn't told as specifically as the your life plays out, but the certain lines and emotions wrapped up in just a few words is enough to make you stop and wonder how they knew just how you were feeling.

W is for Wende. Oops. I mean Angie. Wende was my boss at my first internship in LA (at The Greek) and I'm pretty sure either came up with the nickname snellycat or at least supported it right away as soon as I said it. She's funny and smart and trashy and has now directed all that fabulousness into a blog. But under the name Angie (Party of One). One of my most favorite posts (thus far) made me LOL and feel the need to tell the world about her over-the-top thoughts (but says all the things that most of us only THINK):

"I'm spending $50 bucks a month on a gym membership and I'm not working out. I'm also spending $30 bucks a month on birth control and I'm not getting laid. So that's basically $80 bucks a month spent on being lame."

That's just awesome.

W is for waiting for sleep to come (which is just about to happen) so I can say goodnight to this Wednesday and prepare for my next whirlwind event.

Whew.

Blame It On The Rain

Nashville, TN: One random lazy Sunday afternoon, I was sitting with my love on the couch and, while gazing at the summer sun's canvas, a shadow on the wall caught my eye. I got up to inspect it closer and the shadow turned out to be two thin lines that ran up the side of the wall and continued up half of my ceiling. How did I never spot this before? My best guess is that because my wall is what I would like to call "coffee light," so if there is a blemish here or there, it would most likely blend in a bit. Plus, I don't normally sit on my couch during the afternoons to have noticed anything out of the ordinary via mid-day sunlight.

In any event, the stains were there and I can't help but wonder if it was from the flood of 2010. I don't think I was ever so grateful to live on the 2nd story of a condo building, but alas, I wasn't 100% spared (though really - if THIS is it, I am even MORE grateful!).

Since I forgot to take a picture of the darn stain, I found this online as the closest thing to what it looked like:

So, I emailed the Home Owners Association (THIS is what those fees I pay each month go to!) and he agreed that because the leaky roof damaged the insides, they would take care of repainting it. Except that when they repainted the stain, they left an even bigger paint stain (really my picture this time):

Grrrr. So, after another few emails, they decided they pretty much have to repaint the entire ceiling and wall that it affected. Only problem is that my ceiling is about 30 feet high. That means they had to get a really BIG ladder. And someone who wasn't afraid of heights.

They sent over their master painter (MP, as I called him) and he bravely set up that gigantic ladder (with the help of a spotter) and repainted that whole ceiling and wall. Thank goodness he was good enough to not have to tape the trim. This is why you call on professionals and not try to do it yourself!

Water Damage From 2010 Flood: Check.

Fresh Paint On Ceiling and Wall: Check.

Even More Grateful That THIS Was The Only Thing That Happened To My Home: CHECK.

The Stupid Things

Mobile, AL: Today's been one of those days where every little thing is bothering me. People are being stupid, mistakes are being made and if one more person asks me to get them an autograph...

I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I walk away from situations that make me just f*ing mad. I try to breathe deep and shake it off, but it just doesn't seem to be working.

Since I can't really focus on anything work-related at the moment (and since my work day is nearly over), I open up my iTunes, put on my headphones and being to play a recorded interview I conducted with Tracey, a Thistle Farmer, on Wednesday. For the TF newsletters, I have interviewed some of the women to get a little history on where they came from, how they got into the lifestyle of drug abuse and prostitution and what steps did they take to get out and get to Magdalene.

I am listening to Tracey's voice as she describes the memories of her past: visions of her father abusing her mother, selling her body in exchange for money to support a habit she thought she had control over, facing a potential sentence of 25 years in jail -- only to find a healing and forgiving community in the nick of time. It's almost too much for one person to handle in one lifetime. And yet, her laughter, her humility, her gratefulness ring through my ear buds and I am in awe of her survival.

It's hard to summarize her story into a few paragraphs for a newsletter, but so important for others to hear. I just want to convey how much she had to go through, how far she has come and how lovely she really is.

Then I realize everything else that has been bothering me all day is truly stupid. THIS is what life is about. To Tracey -- I am grateful for your openness with me and for your ability to help me truly see.