Taking pictures, looking through the viewfinder to see as only I can see, breathing deeply and pressing the shutter . . . . this is the one action I take every day to honor who I am.

There is no question that this action makes me feel vulnerable. Is my work good? Will anyone relate? Is what and how I see worthy? But when I turn into that place where nothing is guaranteed, nothing is really known, I see that everything is possible. What if I stop worrying about what the work means and just enjoy the process?

 

My husband and I had a conversation this morning about what a perfect day would look like for us, and for me that would include an early morning photo walk. I’m an early bird and I feel guilty for dragging him out of bed at the crack of dawn so often. I hate to miss the morning, being one of those people who feels as if the day is half over if I sleep in until 8 or 9am. Even as a little girl I found sleepovers difficult because of my natural propensity for early rising. I recall vividly lying in bed waiting for my best friend Karen to wake up so we could start another fun summer’s day.

He gets up even though he is groggy and patiently helps me take these photographs where I am the model and he is my human tripod. He has no idea what I am looking for, but he follows directions well. He presses the shutter again and again. And when we are finished with our little photo session, he makes me a grilled cheese for lunch with a cold root beer to drink.

Now that I think about it, today is a good day. A perfect day, I think.