Pink

Not everyone likes the color pink and I can accept that but for me, I like pink and lately have had a bit of an obsession with the color. My favorite color - flat out - is red followed by white and black in a tie for second place and they have reigned supreme for as long as I can remember, until this past year when pink has found its way not only onto the list but at the top - unimaginable!

In the search for my current, beloved apartment home, I started a visual journal to go along with my written one. I searched the web and magazines printing or cutting out the images that I was drawn to not editing or looking necessarily for anything in particular but tying to let the process lead me to the style that would reflect me and help me create my haven - my home.

My daughter was the one that pointed out how much pink there was in my journal and when I looked objectively all I saw was white and light with touches of pink on . every . page! I was genuinely surprised and couldn't help but question why this sudden pull to the color pink, why now, why so strongly, just why.

So I started looking for an answer and I found a "what color means" entry on a design site and immediately looked up pink; this is what it said:

Pink Opens the Heart

Gentle and soothing, pink is the color of love. It promotes tenderness and is a comfort in times of emotional transition. Use it in a room when you are trying to increase the receptivity and understanding.

Wow, my heart and soul all summed up in a three sentence description of a color - and it fit(s)! I know that I am still finding my way through an emotional transition that seems to never end and I desire love and tenderness in my life, wanting my home to be one of comfort for me and all who enter. The amazing part is that it took a color and my search for its meaning in my life to bring me to the place of acceptance of where I stand - not for always - but for now, acknowledging this is part of the process of learning to fly.

In order to fly - to become the woman I am meant to be - I need to trust my inner self - the part that knows what is best for me - the part that knows only the good in who I am - the part that believes in me, in spite of myself! The inner self that pulled me to the color pink knowing that I would eventually (with help) see the pattern and in turn seek out the answers as to why. The self that always believes in me and wants more than anything for the rest of me to believe as well. That is the self that I need to trust, the me that truly rocks, the one that wants to remind me of my wings and my ability to fly!

Very slowly, I am learning to honor my innate ability to use my visual and creative talents to reach and express my truth and maybe in the process I'll be open to attracting the love and tenderness that I so long for and that the color pink has encouraged me to receive.

A new ending

Nobody can go back and start a new beginning

but anyone can start today and make a

new ending

~maria robinson~

Love remains

Light flickers then gently fades away

But love remains

Love always remains

The girl

I burnt my finger making this beautiful fire tonight. I'm sure that means nothing to the majority of women out there but it means something to me.

I'm the "girl" I have not been the one to start and keep a fire going in my past - I've always had a "boi" or in my way back "boy" to take care of things for me. I now do what needs to be done or to get what I want, like this fire on this snowy, cold night. But I don't like it - at all.

I get my own oil changed - please know that I realize that these are not earth shattering things but they are not things I like to do - I take out my own trash and vacuum my own carpets (that one has always been a bonus for me, in every relationship), I wash my own Jeep and take it to the shop when necessary. I turn on the heating blanket each night (sometimes forgetting until I'm crawling into bed) and I have to tell myself I look good in the morning before I leave for work (sometimes I'm not sure) and I am where the buck stops in every area of my life - and it sucks!!

But I have no other option, I must take care of myself as I'm sure I should have done a gazillion years ago but didn't because I didn't have to. I am proud, however, of where I am at now ... I've come through a lot of really difficult stuff and have learned that I am more than capable of taking care of myself, so I'm not in jeopardy of falling through the proverbial cracks, I just miss being cherished - and cherishing. I miss being taken care of and treated like the girl that I am.

My burn is not looking good and the pain that it causes hurts my heart along with my finger.

But damn it, that fire rocks!!!

Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we did not open

Into the rose-garden

~T.S. Eliot~

Some of the most painful experiences in our lives have provided us with the most profound and important lessons.

Know that something magnificent awaits you on the other side.

~ana~

Aloha Friday

"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness, and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone."

~ Audrey Hepburn ~

Found heart

I found my heart in a bowl full of m&m's ... probably not the best place for it to be!

Silent progress

~some days I make nothing more than silent progress~

One of my favorite blogs is written by the amazing artist Kal Barteski ([i]lovelife – see my Blog Love), the above quote is hers and was part of a painting of a beautiful owl in flight. She happened to be creating her “I Found Wings” gallery show at the same time I was realizing that I have wings of my own. Her words and paintings a perfect complement to the journey I had embarked upon. The above quote came at just the right moment and reminded me that “silent progress” is okay and occurs even if I can’t “hear” it as long as I remain open to the possibilities before me.

I was gently reminded that being open resulted in the afternoon and evening event yesterday and that it was good for me to push past my comfort zone and take part in something different for me. The evening was very nice and while I do not feel a pull to attend the church beyond special events, I did feel genuinely welcomed and surprisingly calm. The music was amazing and worth sitting on an uncomfortable wooden pew for two hours (that brought back memories!) however my body is still protesting my choices today.

Dinner that followed was very nice and while I don't share the same socio-economic status as my companions, it was comfortable and a testament to all three of their belief that all are “created equal” regardless of their standing in society or any surface differences there may be. It was wonderful to hear them talk of their travels and of upcoming plans to venture into foreign lands. I have only been across the Pacific to Hawaii and don’t even have a passport – which I need to get – so my input was the properly timed “ooh” and “ahh” but I think I held my own and was genuinely intrigued by the topics of conversation regardless of my direct participation. It was a good evening and I enjoyed myself in spite of myself.

But the evening would never have happened had I not been open to attending. My immediate reaction when George invited me was to say no and quickly find an excuse that I could use to justify my decision. But I didn’t say no and even though I considered finding a reason to not attend after the initial invitation, I stood true to my commitment and participated in spite of my hesitations and apprehension and that was good, really good. I showed that doubting self of mine that I can do things totally out of my norm and I can do them with people that I would never have imagined spending time with or that would ever want to spend time with me.

All-in-all a pretty good lesson and one I hope to have really learned!

Random

I’ve been following the blog of a family in Utah that are experiencing an unbelievable crisis – their 1 year old son (the youngest of 4) drowned in the bathtub last Saturday (stakerzxposed.blogspot.com - see Blog Love). The mom did what all mom’s have done at least once during the young years of a child’s life, myself included, she stepped away from the tub, got distracted by other things that needed to be done and in that very short time, one of the two littlest boys in the tub (the other 2 years old) turned the water back on and somehow the youngest went under and literally drowned. This young mom, beckoned back by the calls of her son, found her youngest without life, lips blue, eyes open and blank, gone.

With uninhibited honesty, taking full responsibility and with genuine humility she has been sharing their story through her blog, in part to ensure that family and friends are updated regularly and also to plead for prayers for her revived but very sick little boy lying in the PICU in Salt Lake City. I have been pulled back to check on the status time and time again, each time hoping to read the best, not always receiving that but always reading heartfelt, honest, emotionally raw words.

While my heart is pulled to this young family simply by the connection that all mothers feel, I am also questioning why me, why at this time in my life have I been drawn into this “virtual” place. The path here was via another mother of 4 boys who’s youngest, only weeks old, was suffering the ravaging effects of Pertussis (whooping cough). She, also a woman of dedicated faith (both in the Mormon tradition) pleaded for the prayers of others to petition for the sparing of her son. Her son did not survive but the example of faith, total dedication to her God and witness of her strength was amazing to see. I came to her by way of the Digital Photography School of which I am a member and of which she is a teaching contributor a seemingly random journey but I tend to shy away from the belief in “random”.

Because of this journey, I am finding myself at a point of confliction of faith – not a crisis per se but a genuine point of questioning. I no longer hold the belief in one god, in one path but I find myself longing for the connections only found amongst people of faith. As I read comment after comment on these blogs from fellow members of their churches and from people that share their beliefs, and see the reaching out physically and in spirit it makes me long for the “family” that faith can create. Due to my past and history in and with the “church” I made the decision to leave that part of my life behind but now I’m wondering.

15 years ago I found myself in a place where I could no longer justify placing my faith in a God that “loved me unconditionally” but also wanted me to relinquish my truth, the truth of my creation, the truth of my physical and mental being and to deny the truth of who I am. So I left the church entirely and until recently I have been 100% okay that decision. It has only been in the past maybe 6 months during which time I have been stripped down to just me and me alone that I have started to miss the community and “family” that a church and its members provide. Walking into a church and being genuinely welcomed is comfort at its very best and that is what I find myself longing for. But can I accept and allow myself to become part of a family of faith when I do not share the faith of that community?

Tomorrow afternoon while many are focused on the “big game” I will be attending a concert by a Chamber Choir in the church of my mentor and his wife. I have not been in a church, beyond the gym for a baby shower, in years and I am apprehensive to say the least but also cautiously optimistic. George, my dear friend and mentor, knows my history and knows the origins of my apprehension and has offered the haven of his congregation to me in the past. He shares many of my beliefs and understands the pain and damage that religion has caused me and because of that, I trust him and am for the first time opening myself to the possibility of becoming a part of something again.

I have also made a new connection with a woman in Holland that shares my history and yet still holds true to much of her faith – another nudge from the Universe perhaps? I don’t know but I tend to shy away from the belief in “random”.

Seeing

“If you want to know where your heart is, look where your mind goes when it wanders.”

I read this little quote recently – not sure where but somewhere in blogland – and it has stuck with me, really, really stuck with me. To the point that when I find my mind wandering I jump immediately into trying to determine where my mind is going or has gone. Not a good thing for me, why you may ask, well because I must have the answers, I must know where my mind wanders to in order to truly identify where my heart is – I simply must know it all. But in the process of “must knowing” the wandering immediately ceases and frustration sets in.

This need to know resides in the recesses of my sometimes extremely muddled brain and has dug in deep, solidifying its position after years of repetition and expectation but I think I am beginning to understand its origin and why it is so strong.

My childhood was a jumble of unknowns and uncertainties. My home was never a place of safety or comfort but rather a place of judgment and unattainable expectations especially for me, the firstborn. My parents, while I attest that they did the best they could, were never consistent in any area of my upbringing. Love, while not intended, was conditional, based upon my performance and the image I portrayed – everything from me was a direct reflection of the two of them and every fault or imperfection that I exhibited was in turn their imperfection and perceived (in their eyes) inability to raise a proper, God-fearing child. I still hear my father’s voice barreling down from the pulpit (he was the preacher, you know) mid-service, telling me to “behave” and stop giggling ... the heat of embarrassment on my cheeks and in my belly is something I can still feel today. And it wasn’t just my parents, my father’s congregants followed his lead, I would often be the only child from a group, chastised for dirtying my dress or running in the church’s halls by any follower that happened upon us.

In order to meet these impossible expectations I decided I would try to know everything before it was going to happen because if I knew what was coming I could figure out how I was supposed to act and what I was supposed to do and say and those proper actions would somehow result in an abundant outpouring of love from my parents. Oh the foolish hopes of a child. (You can just imagine their shock and agony when I came out as a lesbian and a left-winged one at that!)

The need to have everything in place prior to something – anything – happening continues to rear its ugly head and push itself in the middle of every attempt I make at being at peace with myself and where I am at this time in my life. The immediate desire to know where my mind is wandering to is a manifestation of this need and not easily ignored.

It’s a difficult place to be but at least I am starting to honestly see what I do, often sub-consciously, to hamper my growth and in turn I can begin the process of understanding or at least acknowledging the reasons behind those actions in hopes of moving forward.

Maybe in the seeing I will find the freedom to let go, change and accept (only moving mountains here).

Dreams

I had a very busy weekend – two different photo shoots, one official (newborn) and one just ‘cause (hockey) and I’m still in the thick of editing each photo. I tend to take a lot of photos in a sitting, I mean a LOT! I took over 1000 photos of my nephew and teammates on the ice Saturday night and another 800+ of the sweetest little boy – just 12 days old. So just under 2000 photos later … I have the pictures of the babe on my website and ready for viewing in color and black & white and am in the middle of performing the first “clean” of the hockey photos.

Especially with hockey, there are so many pictures that come out blurry or focused on the spec on the glass rather than the player on the ice behind it so my first edit is just weeding out the obvious ones, then on to the real work. I love capturing the thrill of the game in a photo – it just makes my day to open a new picture and see an amazing shot before my eyes, doesn’t happen all the time but those shots, I’m proud to say, are becoming more and more common. Practice does make “better” – I stopped reaching for “perfect” a long time ago!

With the newborn shoot, my first ever, I see the flaws in my execution and details that I just didn’t think about in the midst of it all. I also realize the importance of being able to control the lighting and will request sessions at my place rather than their home or will just start investing in some decent gear, including lighting. In spite of the difficulties and “issues” the shoot was good – I got some great shots and am overall very pleased with the results! I just hope that momma and papa are as satisfied with the final product as well.

Working behind the camera and on the editing process makes my heart sing and I wish more than anything that it could be my focus on a daily basis and by that I mean I wish I could make my living taking photos.

Ah, dreams ...