I visited the botanical gardens and walked directly to the conservatory and took over 100 pictures. There were only subtle differences in each photograph and yet I loved each one for those small shifts. I never made it inside to see the butterflies. I did not walk through the rose garden or check to see if the peonies were blooming yet. I found this spot and made myself at home. The whole day was glorious because of this one hour.

I’m working my way through some brain retraining exercises to help relieve chronic pain using an app called Curable. (Many thanks to my friend, Susan Carter Morgan, for sharing this valuable resource). One of the exercises is called Word Swap and it involves changing the words I use to describe my pain. Whenever you say (or think) a word, it paints a mental image in your brain. So if you describe pain as burning or stabbing, this lights up the brain’s fear patterns and may increase pain. Changing the words I use to describe my pain and how I’m feeling can change the level of pain I experience.

In a similar fashion, Paul Sanders describes how our thoughts and biases can limit our photography. In his newsletter today, Paul shares his perspective . . . .

I'm not a golden hour photographer, to be honest it doesn't do much for me, I like dull days, misty mornings, rain or fog, hard contrasty mid day sunshine - but in every part of the day I choose to photograph I embrace the light I am given.

Accepting the light you are given and looking for the unique qualities it offers will make you a better photographer, it will also make you a better human being - really! It will make you appreciate what you have rather than what you wish for - how many times have you wished for the lottery win? How many times have you won big? How many times have you had to make do with the money in your pocket?

Also by not being or feeling disappointed in the light you will be happier, less despondent too.

Of course now when you go out and think oh the light is rubbish you will hear my little voice in your ear saying "it's different not good or bad" sorry!

Changing the words we use to describe light and the subjects in our environment can make all the difference between creative self-expression and self-sabotage, doubt, and judgement.

I’ll be 62 this month and I’ve already received wonderful birthday gifts. I’ve been working to unlearn some old patterns, allowing for a deeper understanding of myself, better relationships, a greater enjoyment of everyday life, and a loving relationship with my body.

It’s a long story and kind of personal to share in this open space. Buy if you are here, visiting with me, and you are suffering, I want you to know that you are not alone. And there is a path to a fresh perspective.

True Stories

The pollen in Virginia is awful. It’s a hard state to live in if you have allergies.

I get allergy injections once a month to help desensitize me to tree, grass and weed pollen, dust and mites, and animal dander.

I live in a sensitive body with asthma and allergies and IBS and migraines and chronic neck and back pain. When I say it all at once, it sounds overwhelming, but I have lots of help in lots of ways.

When I got my allergy shot yesterday, I waited the required 30 minutes to make sure I didn’t have a reaction. But I did. Have a reaction. This is not the first time I’ve had a reaction but it’s always scary. My chest gets tight. My head hurts. I get flushed and it feels like I’m having a whole body hot flash. I have stomach pain. I feel lightheaded. In short, I feel a lot of body distress.

The doctor ordered double doses of antihistamines and I had to remain in the office for another 30 minutes to make sure I was okay. They put me in the fun room where the doctor keeps a snazzy coffee machine for himself and the staff. There were also snacks in the cabinets so people were in and out a lot. They said they were checking on me, but every time someone came in they left with a bag of pretzels or chips.

The medicine worked and I started to feel much better within about 15 minutes. From my vantage point in my assigned chair, I couldn’t help but noticing the soft window light in contrast to the very medical looking bed where I might lie down or heaven forbid, faint.