These are the gathering places. If there is anything I have learned at all, it is that fear can isolate us in ways far-reaching. Those sharp words we utter. Those feelings of doubt and shame. Loneliness. The times we sit in the car and cry those big tears, overtaken. They all seem rooted in fear of one shade or the other. And the path to relief and joy is not to deny those fears, bury them, hide from them or run from them. The way to healing is acknowledging the pain. If there is even one person who bears witness to your sorrow, that pain is lessened. And you can breathe again. Just by gathering.

 

“But there’s another way to pay attention. A less intense way. Like when you’re enjoying a colorful sunset or lying in a field watching the clouds drift by overhead. You’re still observing, but with a sense of effortlessness and curiosity.” —The Way Out, Alan Gordon with Alon Ziv

I’m bored of taking pictures of flowers alone, finding myself more interested in the architecture of gardens. The textures and light and the most basic and essential elements of gardens. The tools, the planting, the watering. Buds and blossoms. Things just beginning to grow and certainly those things in decay. I do not have access to the inside of the greenhouse, so I make the best of focusing through 2 layers of glass—the lens and the wall of the greenhouse.

Not having to fix everything right away is really liberating.

I’m grateful for this season of life. Even the night’s when I wake up at 4am and can’t get back to sleep. Without such nights, I doubt I would have this opportunity to explore and take pictures in the garden at sunrise.

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.