Sunday Drives

Sometimes on Sundays, I feel unsettled. There is an old script from an earlier version of my life that says I must stay busy and be productive. Sunday, with it’s long stretch of unstructured time, feels unsafe. I often make up work to do for this day, turning what could be a relaxing day into a project day. But the truth is, neither contrived busyness nor forced stillness really works. So we’ve been taking Sunday drives in the country to disrupt this old pattern of mine. I get lost in the views. I love the hot summer breeze, the motion of our van, the car picnics, the exhaustion at the end of the journey. The late afternoon nap back at home. It’s really pretty perfect, what we do on an given Sunday.

Summer on Kodak Portra

The good things:

Because I can’t see the photo immediately, I take the photo and move on, allowing me to spend more time focusing on the moment I’m enjoying.

Because I only have one lens for my Pentax 645, I work with what I have and learn to see by repetition. Or maybe trial and error.

Because film, when sent to a good lab, needs very little editing, I don’t need to waste my life away on the computer.

Because my film camera is lighter than my digital camera and easier to carry.

Because I rarely change settings except for the aperture (f stop).

Because searching for good light feels like noticing all the good in the world.

Summer Stillness

I am stretching time this month. Choosing tiny moments of stillness every single day.

Stepping away from things I dread. Slowing down to notice more. There is no hurry.

The Quality of the Impulse Behind the Energy

These days I try to focus my limited energy in directions that bring me joy, allow me to rest, reassure me, help me to grow, and generally feel good about myself. I get so much from my one and only paid substack subscription, Strong and Stable with Annie Wright. (If you are interested and want to try out Strong and Stable, I have a few gift subscriptions to share. Let me know.) Today’s post is all about To-Do Lists and I could definitely relate. I’m sharing a few excerpts here:

“I am, by nature, a highly generative person. I love adventure. I genuinely want to experience a lot of life and leave everything on the court, so to speak. I want to live up to my potential, create deeply meaningful work, see what's possible for me to contribute and build in my lifetime.

But separating that natural drive from the compulsive, fear-based urgency? That's where it gets tricky.

Here's what I'm learning to notice: the quality of energy behind the impulse.

The first one comes with this panicky, constricted energy. My chest gets tight. My breathing becomes shallow. My thoughts spiral toward scarcity and comparison. It's that feeling of being behind, being less than, needing to prove something to an invisible judge who's never satisfied.

The second comes from inspiration and genuine creative drive. It feels expansive. There's anticipation instead of anxiety. My body feels energized, not depleted.”

Farmers Market Berries, July 2025

So the really nice thing about photography is that it falls into this second category, coming from inspiration and genuine creative drive. And film photography, in particular, suits me in this way. The process is slow, and I am not naturally slow at anything (unless you count running). Moving slowly and thinking slowly feels unfamiliar and if I am being honest, basically unsafe. And yet, I want to disrupt this pattern … for a million little reasons … not the least of which is that I am closer to the end of this life than the beginning and I don’t want to miss it because I was in a hurry, focused on some self-imposed To-Do List.

The kinda crappy pictures of the berries at the farmers market (yes, another picture of fruits and vegetables !) and the big blue bear at the mini golf course—they are nothing special. And yet they are. They are the beautiful evidence of the best part of me. And I love them for reminding me that my core self is someone I can love.

Patterson Mini Golf, July 2025