Stepping off the Treadmill

I love trying new things, keeping my options open, and staying curious. But too many new things can be overwhelming, too many options feels like a recipe for unhappiness, and curiosity overdone seems like a never-ending quest for answers. Sometimes I just want to stop worrying about missing out and experience the freedom of loving what I already have.

When have I found joy in stepping off the “upgrade treadmill”?

  • loving my husband for 45 years, and doing all the work to keep the relationship healthy

  • taking pictures with the used camera I bought in 2017 and loving the way it feels in my hands

  • driving a 2010 model car with over 200,000 miles on it and treating her like she’s my best friend

  • living in the same house for 41 years and making it a place of light and laughter and comfort

  • holding onto a smart phone that is not new but paid off

  • smiling at my own reflection, gray hair and wrinkles, knowing full well that upgrades happen from within

  • feeling satisfied with home-cooked meals, an analog watch, and visits to the library all of which help to keep spending in check, one way or another

  • avoiding wellness programs and plans that always seem to be trying to sell me some better version of myself and letting go of the fear that I might die; because, well, I will.

Flower Power — Bouquet #5

I am enjoying a relaxing approach to photography these days. Most days I take a little photo walk. See the antique orange car, partially covered by the blue tarp? The picture is from today’s photo walk. I stopped by the thrift shop and picked up the gorgeous Spode plate. I’ve been on a kick of serving our very ordinary meals on very special vintage plates. The flowers from Westwind floral bouquet #5 are still serving me well as photographic subjects. It’s easier to make these kinds of still life pictures when I just leave the backdrop (an old painting tarp) up in my makeshift studio (the garage with the door partially up). I have a little assortment of vases and flower frogs and a few simple props. I’ve been using my new tripod and really love that it is lightweight and simple to use. I love being able to swap lenses (35mm, 50mm, 85mm) and move whatever table I am using back and forth to influence the look of the picture. I’m kinda hesitant to edit the photos too far from true, but what I love is that soft, grainy, romantic look. I’m not there yet, but I’ll keep practicing.

These are the works in progress that will make up my florilegium project. I can’t decide if this will be a book or maybe a stack of fine art prints arranged in an artful box (maybe a cigar box or a box covered with marble paper?).

This is fun. Challenging in just the right amount.

Explaining and Justifying

Little Donna, 1961

I realize now, thanks to the help of a trusted therapist, that I spend a lot of time explaining and justifying myself, my choices, my feelings, and my behaviors. I mean A LOT of time. This is a habit borne out of a long-held belief that if I can make others understand my perspective, they will agree with me, or at least see why I am the way I am. And agreement equals safety, and safety is everything. As though I need permission to simply be myself. With my logical mind, I can plainly understand that this is not healthy. But try telling that to my inner child who is still trying desperately to protect herself. It’s a process.

I was reading a post from Colin King’s The Last Layer today. Even though his post, You’re not missing anything, was ostensibly about the design of a room, I could easily draw parallels to my own need to optimize the hell out of everything.

“That’s the shift I’m still learning how to trust. That clarity doesn’t always come from adding the right thing. Sometimes it comes from removing the thing that’s interrupting what’s already working.

I see this outside of rooms too, which is deeply inconvenient.

In conversations where I say one sentence too many and can feel the moment politely leave. In work that would’ve been stronger if I stopped a paragraph earlier. In decisions where I keep searching for a better answer instead of trusting the first quiet one, which was correct and annoyingly calm.

There’s a version of more that feels like care. Like you’re being thorough, attentive, invested.

And then there’s a version that’s just avoidance wearing a nice outfit.

I’m not always great at telling the difference.

But I’m getting better at recognizing when I’m adding something to solve a feeling instead of a problem. Which, unfortunately, is most of the time.”
— Colin King, The Last Layer

Enjoying the Process

I often feel as though Paul Sanders is writing directly to and for me in his newsletter, Still. He has this way of reassuring me that I am on a healing and worthy path. His post today, When will I be famous?, speaks to the longing we all have to be seen and heard and underst00d. And the truth is—I am fortunate because I do have people in my life that witness my creative work and cheer me on. My husband, my sons, and my friends regularly encourage me to keep going. They let me bounce ideas off of them and indulge me when I go deep into my passion.

I am sharing an excerpt from Paul’s post today (click the link to read the full post).

“In truth, nothing we create truly matters to the wider world now, but at the same time it does matter in terms of who we are.

Most of what we create is a legacy of how we lived, it will be seen by generations in the future, they will decide which of us becomes famous and whose work really mattered.

Creativity doesn’t exist to be someone it exists because you are someone. Your purpose isn’t to be famous, it is just to be who you are, truly connecting with the world in your own way, in your own time, photographing, drawing, painting, writing, making music about what your life means to you.

The most effective marks are the simplest. So many of us try to over-complicate our expression by wanting something more from it, when all we need to be is simply authentic, to embrace that wild, free creative energy we had before fear of failure and comparison stole the joy from us.

To share how we each uniquely take part in the world is our purpose, every separate expression of creativity makes the world a richer place, and most importantly it doesn’t matter what others think or feel about your work.”
— Paul Sanders, Still