The Blind Side of Clarity — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5 sec
You don’t need me to tell you life is an all out blur these days. An all out conflagration of the senses; body, mind and soul blasted by a raging inferno of the world’s lit fuse. Our defenses bested, our heat shields destroyed. Systems are critical and who will quench us now?
It is here and now we must look to ourselves and to our small pockets of control. Let’s do what we can to keep things neat and tidy, lest the traveling embers of wonton destruction set our own backyards ablaze. Things may look and feel hopeless, with authoritarianism, strife, conflict, and death on the move. We must not allow such malevolent actors strip away the clear view to what matters most in this world—each other, our children, our communities. Instead of a sniping some stranger with a quick hit feel good response of toxic emotion, give yourself a moment or three to respond with the soothing power of love and grace. It is our kindness and compassion that will save the world.
Tectonic forces do their work. Ploughing their inescapable hell slowly and without discrimination. They grind—hard. Such is their subtlety as to be motionless to the eye though with a power as immutable as gravity. It goes to work on you at all times. The all seeing eye. Without cease or respite it weighs heavy its jagged white-hot indiscriminate hand, wearing body and mind down to dust. It pulverizes all identity and form until it spits you out as something unrecognizable, something—else. Were you crushed and cast out or transformed and made whole in the friction?
Let’s Go — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Two Zero Two One, let’s go. You’ve a very low bar to surpass your predecessor’s legacy of pandemics and problems. We’re counting on you for life and health this year.
Last year I was well into April before I shared my first photo on this website. A lapse I hope not to soon repeat. This evening’s banger of a sunset made for a smoldering debut and guaranteed such a slump would not happen this year. It was pure fire over the mirror still waters of Stafford Forge’s front lake. Absolute time well spent; 10 out of 10, would do it again. Skies Like This, let’s go.
What have I been doing lately? Let’s go:
Watching:Bridgerton was a fun time; cool spin on a not so rigid period piece. Finished my second Star Wars Rebels rewatch last night. At its best the show is absolute peak Star Wars. It’s an animated series but do not let that fool you—it’s deep and worthwhile with characters you care about. World War II in Colour because my interests are all over the place.
Reading (audible-ing?): I finished Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere on my walk today. Having read Good Omens, American Gods, Norse Mythology, and The Sandman before it, I must say Neil sits atop my favorite authors list at this point.
Playing:Hades. This rougelite is an outright masterpiece. Easily the best thing I’ve played last year, and that’s saying a lot considering Ori and the Will of the Wisps was phenomenal. I’m over 70 hours into Hades and have made it out of hell 11 times. I cannot get enough. Play Hades!
Listening: the Who is getting an absolute workout right now, and I am properly wearing out Quadrophenia front to back, over and over sans jacket cut slim and checked. In fact I am listening as I edited this photograph and wrote this post.
Seated at The Union Market stuck on what to write. I’ve got nothing. An intersection? A four way stop with no signs. The anarchy of an unkempt mind. It’s an odd sort of drift. The shimmering grains of control left to sift right through arthritic fingers. More sand down the hourglass of time. An amortized loss no prospector’s pan can withhold. The Ring, man. It will vanish.
Still this is the big mystery, ain’t it? The exalted drama we each one of us play out with this spot of time we’ve got. Each of us observers in our own unplanned play running on as one big dress rehearsal to life. Except there are no second chances—only better doings. The sand grains, man. They’re ours—though only for a moment—borrowed. Walk upon them where you can. Dance, sing. Bury your feet and run your fingers through past, present, and future. As it comes. As it goes. Ours for a while. Build the brightest castle you can; however you can and while you can. Because the sand belongs to time. It hears its master’s call.
In My Own Time — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Improved is my mood. It pleases me to write this. A combination of self imposed interventions coupled with some good old fashion luck reinforced the levies to keep the deluge of depression at bay. First to thank my friends and family—my people—for hanging in there and supporting me. The treasured and unbreakable bonds forged in love and tempered in the flames of hardship keep me strong. Iron does sharpen iron, and lost I would be without them. I love you.
Reestablishing mindfulness and meditation practices, daily and with intent, served to ground me. Tethering me back to my breath—the single most fundamental essence of life. This is creating a setting of ease and space to cope. I use an app called Headspace to guide this practice, and I recommend trying out anything to help guide you and keep you on track. There’s no right or wrong way to mediate. No beginning or end to meditation. There is only what you take with you. There is only practice.
Disabling my social media accounts for about three weeks proved an enormous boon. While I am back on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, it is only the latter that has its app on my iPhone. Were I able to share photos from my laptop, I’d have no app at all. I strongly recommend a break to anyone considering it. It’s refreshing and wholesome to lose the anxious connection to the impersonal toxicity of the online world. Now that I am back, I have better boundaries, and going sans app reinforces said boundaries.
Audiobooks came to the rescue, too. Starting in an unexpected way. Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman! followed up with What Do You Care What Other People Think? surprised me in their countless life lessons weaved into the narrative subtext. This theme of course being ancillary in their intention to let the world into the mind of one of the 20th century’s most gifted physicists. Richard Feynman was far more than a Noble laureate, though. In fact, there was little typical about him. With intention cultivated himself as a curious, skeptical, and inquisitive observer of life parsed through a scientific lens with no space in his brain for fakers. This proved refreshing. I piggybacked this with Jay Shetty’s Think Like A Monk. An instructive tool for bringing purpose, calm, balance, ease, stillness, and peace into our lives. I don’t typically go in for self help books, but this was a joyous journey, and one which offers numerous tangible strategies to help you find your way.
Therapy remains the key piece constant through all this. A safe place to connect with a professional who brings objectivity and experience to your situation. It provides a place to reflect, open up, share, and discover. As self-awareness grows, strategies take shape to help recognize triggers, execute mitigation tactics against them, thereby minimizing the frequency, intensity, and duration of future episodes. If you have been considering therapy but feel shame or weakness, I do encourage you to take the step. You have the strength. Reaching out for help is hard, but it is always a huge leap worth taking. Complicated and difficult is our world. Our hearts and minds more so. Connecting with people to better understand ourselves, our purpose, and our meaning in this life is a great place to start and essential to wellness.
Thanks for reading, and thank you for your support in this.
Autumn We Dance Again — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
When I was a child I welcomed you. You were the harbinger of winter, my favorite season. The calendars in class marked the days with apples in September, pumpkins in October, and leaves in November. Football and cool weather held sway, while holiday specials with the Peanuts gang enchanted our evening. The days grew short and life stayed simple. It was easy.
In adolescence I accepted you with the grudging disaffected disinterest of an awkward teen. Everything was weird and new but you were somehow familiar. We tolerated each other, and I still had the coming onset of snow to long for.
As an adult I bent to your will. Each year you found news ways to deliver familiar tones of sadness. Loss and loneliness proved your calling card, and you seemed to take joy in my pain. Your growing cold and dimming light worked to push me further toward world weariness. Anxieties grew in the dark. Sadness festered in the cold corners of my mind. Emptiness filled my world, and you were always there mocking with a smug impartiality to it all. A season loved by so many kept me stunted and shirked aside. I had not invite to the party. Years turned to decades and I never fit in.
I have struggled with you for years. So much so it is of no worth to name you fall since the word is far too dire. I know search to flip the script. I Seek to write a new narrative. One of acceptance. One of purposeful restoration. I must learn to slow down and breathe. To be more accepting of your grace. Please take my hand and teach me how to dance, sweet Autumn, I don’t want to hurt anymore.
A Window to Winter — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Somehow I made it through the entirety of 2018 without making a single photo trip to Stafford Forge. I know it was a down year for photo output, but sheesh. At least I am checking it off my list early in 2019, am I right? With fresh mid-January snowfall it was the perfect destination to capture the final light of day.
The pines were magical. Cotton ball snow resting easy atop pine boughs as far as the eye could see. Fresh powder and a last gasp of golden pink light set a dramatic stage. More than the photography it was invigorating to stand outside in crisp, bracing air; taking in the unmistakable air of fresh fallen snow. There’s nothing quite like it. A true tonic for the soul.
I was out shooting and catching up with Jonathan Carr—who turned 39 today, happy birthday, man—and we couldn’t help note how similar the whole tableau was to March 2015. A similar snow fell across the region and the skies broke right in time for a power play golden hour into sunset. I made three great shots that day, and you can seem them here, here, and here. That kind of setup never gets old, and I will take more of that, please.
