I don’t want to ‘lean in’—I want to lie down.
—Ali Wong

I’m a big proponent of rest and I’ve been taking time to lie down for 10 minutes in the middle of the day and do nothing. I’ve finally learned an important lesson: Rest allows for sustainable productivity and creativity.

I have been incredibly stubborn in my belief that the answer to every problem in life is to work more, try harder, dig deeper, never stop moving. And no matter how hard any friend or loved one tried to turn me around and show me a better way, I just didn’t listen. I wasn’t ready. There was so much pain to work through, first, before I could begin to let go and rest.

But I am in a new place now and there is so much room to breathe.

Do you know that magical feeling when you are in the right place at the right time? Doing what you are meant to do? Those times when you have goosebumps because life is so deeply meaningful?

When I tiptoe through the grass, wet from last night’s rain, in the yard of the house with the huge blooming magnolia tree, it takes my breath away. How does this tree thrive in the middle of chaos? The house is abandoned. The yard untended. Branches broken from the heavy snow of January. How much beauty can I hold? All of it, I hope.

When I walk around the old country cafe, painted sherbet pink, I love the lines and shapes. I am puzzled by the two small air conditioning units side-by-side. Maybe this was in the heart of the kitchen where temperatures run high?

Placing these two photos next to one another, I feel spring in my bones. So much has changed and shifted since I started trusting my body.

Renewed Daily

This sketchbook isn’t about selecting the “best” photos, it’s about curating and bringing together the photos that hold meaning for me, those that tell a story I want to remember.

Fridays are “date days” and we love to wander. Gas is expensive so we don’t travel far. We start out at Aquia Landing. The conditions are not perfect for picture-taking, but they are perfect for relaxing and recharging. A nice older gentleman waves to let me know there are Eagles nearby, in case I might want to take a picture. I smile and thank him, and turn back to the duck blind off shore. We pull over at the church and sit for a while on a bench in the sunshine. The church is situated on a bend, as Brooke Road meanders through Stafford county. The pictures I take are nothing special and everything special at the same time.

We make our way on back roads to Culpeper. I ask Siri for directions, and she says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know where that is.” We crack up laughing, because everyone around here knows where Culpeper is. We split a chicken sandwich for lunch and stop in an Antique mall.

Today is just the right amount of a good thing.

Sometimes it’s hard to find pictures in my own backyard. If I’m being honest, one of the biggest obstacles is my bias about what makes a good photograph. So much of what I see feels like a little beauty in the midst of a whole lot of mess. Finding a way to bring that subtle beauty to the forefront is the challenge, and it’s worth the effort. Every time.

I was reassured by the musings of FRAMES Artist-in-Residence photographer Robert Clark:

As I look at these images I cannot but be thankful for the rural character of where I live. Yes, it is a messy landscape, but it is also diverse, close, and always available. It is here when I need it and always provides a kind of “photographic comfort food” for the soul.

Intention and vision are the drivers to exploration. Without them you are merely going through the motions. Discovery of the possibilities can only come from the process of getting out and making images. Not one image, but images, plural. Waiting for that special trip is fine but you are missing many opportunities to practice your craft. So get out. Find the sublime in the ordinary. Always look for the light. That is where the story lies.

Even though I said it would be unlikely I’d add any more photos to the “doors of my heart” collection, I was mistaken. I had time for only a short walk around the block in the Church Hill area of Richmond, Virginia, and the teal colored chair on the front porch, next to the orange door, immediately caught my eye. I sat with this photo, happy in the land of color, warm and welcome. The image of the young woman writing a card to a friend, taken outside a coffee shop, gave this diptych the story of a good mail day.

Good Mail Day