Instead of fighting myself, I’ve accepted that I take the path of learning and failing in order to eventually master whatever I choose—in this case, photography. And when I say master, I don’t meant that I “get it right” in any technical sense at all. What I mean is that I find my voice, my creative expression, my way of giving and sharing. For a long time, I thought that giving meant giving everything. I thought that I needed to always do my best. Those beliefs held me hostage because I lived in fear of disappointing someone, making a mistake, or revealing my brokenness. But pain and discomfort are the necessary elements that I need to grow and evolve. These days I set healthy boundaries, most of the time, and I find myself returning to joy so much more quickly.
I’m feeling cooped up. Not quite the blues but something akin to restlessness. I sort through stacks of books and make a pile to give away. I exercise but my heart is not in it. I accept this little spell of discontent and take a walk. I’m thinking about how much I love to photograph those things that are less than perfect. The pots on the porch with no plants inside. The roof lines mismatched. Little things that sit two-by-two make me feel happy. It’s this darn productivity culture we live in that drags me down as though I’m failing in some way by not staying busy all the time.
I’m not a big fan of Valentine’s Day and the expectations that come along with it. But I’m thinking a lot about relationships and how I’ve been given so much — and how I might give back.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, in Braiding Sweetgrass, asks
“What are the key elements for detecting loving behavior?”
From Braiding Sweetgrass
my list of loving behaviors:
nurturing health and well-being
protection from harm
encouraging individual growth and development
desire to be together
generous sharing of resources
working together for a common goal
celebration of shared values
interdependence
sacrifice by one for the other
creation of beauty
In the chapter, Epiphany in the Beans, Kimmerer describes what it is like to love a garden and know with certainty that it loves you back. I’m paraphrasing her words, drawing from the understanding that love is love, whether it be for people or places or things or the earth itself.
Knowing that you love someone changes you, activates you to defend and protect and celebrate. But when you feel that love in return, that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond.
When we write, Be my Valentine, we are simply asking to be loved. My husband and I went over the list together and talked about the ways we show love to each other and the ways we could do better.
Best Valentine’s gift ever!
There is a light coat of snow, drifting like fog. So clear and crisp and calm.
Then the wind picks up and the snow swirls as though someone just shook the snow globe.
Over and over I watch the scene, shivering and trying to focus.
Instead of wishing for spring, I revel in winter and traces of green.