My summer flower subscription just began. That’s six weeks of fresh floral bouquets from Westwind Flower Farm & Studio delivered to my front porch. Because we live small in many ways, I’m able to splurge on luxuries like fresh flowers. It’s all about trade-offs that are worth it for us. Choices that align with our values (which I realize is a privilege, this having choices thing.) I am continuing work on my photo book project, Florilegium. Today’s work was delightful.
I can’t tell if I am trying differently or still trying too hard. Either way, I’m not willing to give up. Not yet, anyway.
I love the idea of candles. Soft light that changes the mood of a room and creates atmosphere. But in the practical light of day, wax drips. I occasionally forget to snuff flames. And most of the time, I rely on the light of portable, rechargeable LED lamps that move from room to room as I need them. Candles are aspirational for me, and I have to remind myself it’s okay to let the idea of them go.
I’ve spent the last few months working on a collection of still life floral images, and while the end results are pretty good, I am frustrated with the work. I feel stressed out by the need to collect props (vases and flower frogs and such) and hang back drops and arrange stools and tables and set up the tripod and wait for good light. I remind myself that there is a point in any project where I want to give up, and often, I just need to wait it out. Uncertainty is part of the work.
Every so often, I decide with fervent commitment that I need a new Fitbit or some other means of counting my steps. This usually lasts just about a week, and then I remember that I do not actually care about how many steps I take in a day. Again, there is the never-ending pressure to try harder. Not everything needs to be fixed.
No matter how carefully I try to arrange flowers for still life photographs, they always look best when I stop trying—and just throw them down on the concrete floor or plop them in a vase. The harder I work to make things look perfect, the less joy I find. It doesn’t happen often in life, things just falling into place, but when it does, I take the win. At the heart of an overfunctioning life, I ask myself: what happens if I stop? I’ve been pondering this question from Kate Bowler, Why is my light always facing out and never in?
