ever better,
even as I dance with uncertainty.
the path not prescribed,
the light coming and going.
every picture amounts
to love—
ever better.

This holiday season is different in small ways, as subtle as the fine lines that appear on my face. Where there once was a long list of obligations, there now is space for pleasure and peace. There is time for reflection. And a deep understanding that this time is not unlimited. Every small thing deserves attention and celebration. Noticing these charming tableaus as I work my way through the day, I gather the collection for my very own Christmas exhibit.

On this day, in the churchyard with the cemetery on the old country road, I took the Salvation Walk. I needed this walk more than I realized. A dear friend’s mother passed away recently and her death left me mourning my own mother all over again. I wrestle with faith and the sorrow of life and then circle back around to gratitude and surrender.

I have this realization which comes to me by way of Rob Walker and The Art of Noticing.

My epiphany is this. It is not photography that is my hobby; it is noticing that is my hobby. It is within my essential nature to see what is both simple and striking. And maybe this is true for all photographers . . . for all creative souls.

There is more to my insight. The work of making these photographs is effortless effort. This explains why I keep coming back, keep coming around, keep making, keep showing up. It feels good to do this work. The art of noticing is a relaxed and healthy kind of striving for me.

As we approach the holiday season, what I wish for you is that you might
find work that is meaningful
and a healthy striving
that leads to thriving.

 

There is sometimes a profound serendipity at work in our lives. We cultivate fertile ground for these fortunate occurrences of happenstance when we live in a state of openness and curiosity. I cannot tell you how many photographs I have taken as a result of simply turning off the main highway and wandering.

I continue my day, making every errand and appointment an excuse to meander while my mind does its work.

An epiphany.

I often tell people that photography is my hobby. I think about this often because well-meaning people ask, “what kind of pictures do you take?” or “what kind of camera do you use?” These questions always stump me. To the first question, my response is usually a series of halting phrases . . . oh, anything at all, people and places and nature. And to the second question, I am very embarrassed to admit that I often have to look down at the label on my camera to actually name it. Yes, that’s it. A Canon 5d, Mark iii, bought used from a man I met on a nature walk in Williamsburg, Virginia. This is a true story.