Often, yesterday’s photos rise up to pull something out of you. The photos that I took of Yue Minjun’s sculptures last year at English Bay in Vancouver, BC, came alive today. 

Often, yesterday’s photos rise up to pull something out of you. The photos that I took of Yue Minjun’s sculptures last year at English Bay in Vancouver, BC, came alive today. 

I sing - I photograph.  These are some of my layers.  Fundamental parts of my essence. Gifts to me.  They don’t define me, but are who I am.  
There were times when I veered away from some of the deepest parts of myself and thought that they had disappeared.  I’ve come to the place where I know that the gifts of your creativity can weave in and out of focus for a time in your life, but ignoring or failing to tend to them, creates a chasm; a void in the core of who you are.  You know when you sing that note or look through that lens, or explore whatever gifts you’ve been given, that you’ve returned home to yourself.  There’s no thought to it, just that deep internal knowing and sense of being in your own shoes. 

I sing - I photograph.  These are some of my layers.  Fundamental parts of my essence. Gifts to me.  They don’t define me, but are who I am.  

There were times when I veered away from some of the deepest parts of myself and thought that they had disappeared.  I’ve come to the place where I know that the gifts of your creativity can weave in and out of focus for a time in your life, but ignoring or failing to tend to them, creates a chasm; a void in the core of who you are.  You know when you sing that note or look through that lens, or explore whatever gifts you’ve been given, that you’ve returned home to yourself.  There’s no thought to it, just that deep internal knowing and sense of being in your own shoes. 

"To truly listen is to risk being changed forever"
~Sa’k’ej Henderson

"To truly listen is to risk being changed forever"

~Sa’k’ej Henderson

Morning is my time.  I’ve always been a morning person.  My husband teased me about creating a “morning baby” by getting up for the day at 4:00 a.m. when I was pregnant. True to his prediction, our infant-through-toddler-age son would awaken at 4:30 a.m. every morning, wide-eyed and ready to take on the day.
What I love most is the quiet of morning - time by myself, with myself and a cup of steaming tea.  It’s a time of discovery, with no effort in that direction.  Things simply unfold.  
We live in the mountains, where the quiet has a voice all its own.  This morning, I found a photo of some magnetic poetry that we put together on the refrigerator of a Mendocino Coast cottage, where we stayed several years ago.  This is the gift that found its way out of the silence of 4:30 a.m. today.
"Whisper at the Moon, then Kiss the Sea"

Morning is my time.  I’ve always been a morning person.  My husband teased me about creating a “morning baby” by getting up for the day at 4:00 a.m. when I was pregnant. True to his prediction, our infant-through-toddler-age son would awaken at 4:30 a.m. every morning, wide-eyed and ready to take on the day.

What I love most is the quiet of morning - time by myself, with myself and a cup of steaming tea.  It’s a time of discovery, with no effort in that direction.  Things simply unfold.  

We live in the mountains, where the quiet has a voice all its own.  This morning, I found a photo of some magnetic poetry that we put together on the refrigerator of a Mendocino Coast cottage, where we stayed several years ago.  This is the gift that found its way out of the silence of 4:30 a.m. today.

"Whisper at the Moon, then Kiss the Sea"

Behind Me—dips Eternity
Before Me—Immortality
Myself—the Term between
-Emily Dickinson

Behind Me—dips Eternity

Before Me—Immortality

Myself—the Term between

-Emily Dickinson

One morning you wake up and fear has taken a backseat to extraordinary possibility.

One morning you wake up and fear has taken a backseat to extraordinary possibility.

Learn how to exhale, the inhale will take care of itself. 
~Carla Melucci Ardito

Learn how to exhale, the inhale will take care of itself. 

~Carla Melucci Ardito

Fall Reflections

The title “Reflections Back To Me” came to me one day around a book project which would allow women to see themselves through the lens of the camera, in a way that they may have never seen themselves before.  I also called my blog “Reflections Back to Me”,  having no idea how much it would open my eyes - Everything around me is now reflected back to me with such an intense visual and emotional impact. I’ve been re-awakened to the fact that fiery aliveness - vivid and powerful -  is all around me. All I have to do is stop and look. The camera helps me to do that.  

There is a sense of deep passage for me this Fall.  A Sunday walk captured the cycle of movement from the explosive growth of Spring and Summer into the shutting down into Fall, where the warmth of the colors; the end of one thing and the beginning of another, signals the story of a season of quieting.  

Excerpt from The Call
"There is no waiting for something to happen, no point in the future to get to.  All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.  You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.  Come home and rest.  How much longer can you live like this?  Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles.  All this trying.  Give up!  Let yourself be one of the God-mad, faithful only to the Beauty you are."
-Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Excerpt from The Call

"There is no waiting for something to happen, no point in the future to get to.  All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.  You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.  Come home and rest.  How much longer can you live like this?  Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles.  All this trying.  Give up!  Let yourself be one of the God-mad, faithful only to the Beauty you are."

-Oriah Mountain Dreamer

This morning, sitting at my computer with a cup of Winter Solstice tea in my hand, an ad was served up on my computer that was not simply accurate targeting, but was destined for me.  No fluke; Divine ad serving - a technology inspired call -   “Sip a cup of black tea”.  
There is a soothing depth and quieting to a cup of tea.  Tea slows you down and opens you up; causes you to pause, breathe, come into yourself.  An ancient, thoughtful ritual in a frenzied, “down a latte in a paper cup” world. 
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"Each cup of tea represents and imaginary voyage"
-Catherine Douzel

This morning, sitting at my computer with a cup of Winter Solstice tea in my hand, an ad was served up on my computer that was not simply accurate targeting, but was destined for me.  No fluke; Divine ad serving - a technology inspired call -   “Sip a cup of black tea”.  

There is a soothing depth and quieting to a cup of tea.  Tea slows you down and opens you up; causes you to pause, breathe, come into yourself.  An ancient, thoughtful ritual in a frenzied, “down a latte in a paper cup” world. 

______________________________________________________________________

"Each cup of tea represents and imaginary voyage"

-Catherine Douzel

I have a palpable sense of enormous change coming in 2012.  It surrounds and permeates me and was the first breath I took in the new year.
___________________________________________
"Change wears my sister’s moccasins.  He stays up late and wakes up early.  He likes to come up quietly and kiss me on the back of the neck when I am at my drawing table.  He wants to amuse people and it hurts him when they yell at him.  Change is very musical, but sometimes you must listen for a long time before you hear the pattern in his music."
-J Ruth Gendler - The Book of Qualities

I have a palpable sense of enormous change coming in 2012.  It surrounds and permeates me and was the first breath I took in the new year.

___________________________________________

"Change wears my sister’s moccasins.  He stays up late and wakes up early.  He likes to come up quietly and kiss me on the back of the neck when I am at my drawing table.  He wants to amuse people and it hurts him when they yell at him.  Change is very musical, but sometimes you must listen for a long time before you hear the pattern in his music."

-J Ruth Gendler - The Book of Qualities

Reflections
I am bombarded by reflections everywhere - a framework of visual perception. Reflections to me…from me…back to me…. I wonder if the reflections come from the original object or if gazing at the reflection creates the original vision. Some days are a distorted picture of reality, and on other days, reality is cleansed and clarified by that reflection.  

Reflections

I am bombarded by reflections everywhere - a framework of visual perception. Reflections to me…from me…back to me…. I wonder if the reflections come from the original object or if gazing at the reflection creates the original vision. Some days are a distorted picture of reality, and on other days, reality is cleansed and clarified by that reflection.  

REFLECTIONS
Each time I see the Upside-Down Man
Standing in the water,
I look at him and start to laugh,
Although I shouldn’t oughtter
For maybe in another world
Another time
Another town,
Maybe HE is right side up
And I am upside down.
-Sheldon Allan Silverstein

REFLECTIONS

Each time I see the Upside-Down Man

Standing in the water,

I look at him and start to laugh,

Although I shouldn’t oughtter

For maybe in another world

Another time

Another town,

Maybe HE is right side up

And I am upside down.

-Sheldon Allan Silverstein

The leaves crackled under my feet this morning as the now cold, fall morning air, wrapped itself around and crept deep inside of me.  My wooly bear of a dog romped for a few moments, but was anxious to get back into the warmth of the house.  As I turned to go back, visions of the the warmth of the house enveloping my body, I saw one of the the last vestiges of a summer tomato crop.  I gently pulled the ice-cold juicy red-green tomato off of the vine and dropped it into my mouth, savoring the sound, the feel, the taste, of a season gone by.  It seemed a holy ritual. The goodbye to one season and the recognition that another had arrived, and yet another was sitting in wait close behind.  The moment, the cold air, the dog, the seasons, that define my life.
Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s part of the journey to a deeper wisdom and sense of the rhythm and movement of things more profound than world we inhabit every day, but I am now in tune with the soft, subtle and fierce vibration of things earthy.  I find joy and life in the smallest things and each day that I dig deeper into the world of nature and home, the the closer I get to myself.  Layers peel off and I catch a glimpse of myself in a store window with my curly hair flying, and am incredibly grateful for standing on such hallowed ground at this point in my life.

The leaves crackled under my feet this morning as the now cold, fall morning air, wrapped itself around and crept deep inside of me.  My wooly bear of a dog romped for a few moments, but was anxious to get back into the warmth of the house.  As I turned to go back, visions of the the warmth of the house enveloping my body, I saw one of the the last vestiges of a summer tomato crop.  I gently pulled the ice-cold juicy red-green tomato off of the vine and dropped it into my mouth, savoring the sound, the feel, the taste, of a season gone by.  It seemed a holy ritual. The goodbye to one season and the recognition that another had arrived, and yet another was sitting in wait close behind.  The moment, the cold air, the dog, the seasons, that define my life.

Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s part of the journey to a deeper wisdom and sense of the rhythm and movement of things more profound than world we inhabit every day, but I am now in tune with the soft, subtle and fierce vibration of things earthy.  I find joy and life in the smallest things and each day that I dig deeper into the world of nature and home, the the closer I get to myself.  Layers peel off and I catch a glimpse of myself in a store window with my curly hair flying, and am incredibly grateful for standing on such hallowed ground at this point in my life.

Through an open crack in my kitchen window this morning, air inside of the house became infused with the warm and comforting scent of burning wood.  It is fall, the mornings have dipped into the 30’s and 40’s, and smoke billows from my neighbors’ chimneys.  I love the aliveness that comes from icy morning air hitting my face.  It awakens me on many levels.
I took time today, to take a dark, strong, cup of steaming tea outside, and let my senses fill with the sights, smells, and sounds of fall in the mountains.  This is why I live here.  Yet, there are times that even I am so busy, that all of this wonder threatens to become routine. Each time I catch myself failing to take in the majesty of it all, I stop.  This morning it was taking a cup of tea outside and sitting on the deck with my dog.  The other night, it was gazing up through the redwood trees at the crystal clear, star-filled night, as I did something as simple as taking out my trash. 
My surroundings are my teachers, whose voices trumpet loudly inside my head, refusing to let me dip into complacency. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

Through an open crack in my kitchen window this morning, air inside of the house became infused with the warm and comforting scent of burning wood.  It is fall, the mornings have dipped into the 30’s and 40’s, and smoke billows from my neighbors’ chimneys.  I love the aliveness that comes from icy morning air hitting my face.  It awakens me on many levels.

I took time today, to take a dark, strong, cup of steaming tea outside, and let my senses fill with the sights, smells, and sounds of fall in the mountains.  This is why I live here.  Yet, there are times that even I am so busy, that all of this wonder threatens to become routine. Each time I catch myself failing to take in the majesty of it all, I stop.  This morning it was taking a cup of tea outside and sitting on the deck with my dog.  The other night, it was gazing up through the redwood trees at the crystal clear, star-filled night, as I did something as simple as taking out my trash. 

My surroundings are my teachers, whose voices trumpet loudly inside my head, refusing to let me dip into complacency. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.