How to Live

Having come to the hopefully, middle of my life, the question of How to Live? has never loomed larger. In fact, it has bubbled up from within me this 47^th year of my life not as a whisper or a nudge, but as a volcano/tsunami/earthquake/tumbling end-over-end-in-deep-space-without-the-astronaut-rope-to-the-mother-ship, that has left me feeling deeply disoriented, spiritually bankrupt, and quite frankly, in an anguishing pain.

A life-long hater of all things cigarettes, I actually bought a pack one day recently, thinking I should take up smoking. I have nearly gone insane from emotional pain in the last 10 months with the last 3 months being particularly horrendous. And I mean literally insane.

I have spent roughly the last 30 years working on myself. In that time, through hard work, a variety of therapies and spiritual work, I gratefully managed to have broken the cycle of violence, addiction and aggression in myself that is my family tree. And yet here I am, wondering if there is any Thing or One or Power out there in the universe who cares personally about my life and my existence.

I have developed an intimate relationship with Despair this year. I believe this is what the philosophers officially call an Existential Crisis.

Other people would probably just say I need to buck up, get over it, forget the recent past, and move on. And maybe I do need to do all those things. But telling someone who is grieving, lost, desperate, emptied out of things they knew, is like telling a pig to fly. Sometimes, the spiritual practice we have cultivated or had for many years ceases to be effective. We find ourselves simply unable to go on the way we have been. We crave comfort for the blows we have received. We want respite from the torture of heart and mind. We crave wholeness. We wish we could laugh like we did in the old days.

I know enough not to strike out to try and make myself feel better. Staying still and quiet can sometimes feel like you are turning an ocean liner on a dime. It is a Herculean effort and one that awakens me each night at 3.30 am. I often feel I can find no way out of the emptiness and betrayal and injustice of it all.

What I am describing is the lesson I am learning at mid-life which is how to accept life on life’s terms. To surrender to the way things have gone, which is not to say I agree or like them, or think some people have treated me decently, but rather to say, the question of How to Live? begins with surrender and acceptance. These are not easy things for me. I kick and scream and cry and wail. I feel as if I will die.

There are things going on in my life right now that I have no idea how to accept. They are too big, too unfair, too upsetting. They turn my stomach to acid and upset me so much I usually make a sound out loud.

I’d like to share with you one of two things I have discovered as a way through the process of grief, loss, being emptied out, disoriented, betrayal, being lied too, humiliated…. whatever your particular heart pain is, and toward acceptance and serenity (the other one is for another post another time!).

You are either holding it in your hand, on your lap, or staring into it right now. It is your camera phone and your computer.

Bet you didn’t expect that right?!

Well, neither did I.

Here’s what I have found: Our refuge lies in our ability to express ourselves and in our ability to lose ourselves in the world around us.

Every day now, I go out into the world with my iPhone and look at people and light and the environment. I have found that walking is one of the only things that soothes my pain. So I have been walking all over NYC taking pictures. Sometimes I am out there for hours and hours. Well, actually, I am usually  out there for hours and hours! (I recently had to get a bigger external hard drive to store all my photos) I don’t know if it’s because I am getting older, or just my particular state these days, but the quality of light has been indescribably beautiful to me at certain times of day.

When I take photos with my iPhone, I am absorbed into the act of looking and seeing and therefore forget about my pain and myself. It is the most magical occurrence. I lose track of time and feel a reprieve unlike any I have known. The world goes on even though I often feel I cannot. The human condition is right there in front of me. The colors and gestures and surprises that catch my eye deliver me. My perspective is literally changed—it’s expanded, softened, and moves into a sort of hope. Which is another way to say I have received a little bit of acceptance and serenity from my camera and the act of looking.

As I write this, it has been 10 days since I had to put the love of my life, my 14-year-old dog, Rumi, down. She had been failing in health for a couple months and when her quality of life crossed a certain threshold, I didn’t want her to feel one more ounce of suffering. She was put down at home, I held her in my arms, and she was surrounded by four exceptional, gentle, women who cried along with me and helped me function afterwards. I have been deeply affected by her death, and had to leave my apartment in the days after, her absence was so enormous and felt like the last straw in a string of deep losses. 

It’s sometimes the right thing to get on a plane and fly to the sun and beach, which is what I did.

The reason I tell you this about my sweet dog, is because the day after she died, I woke up and went to get her food out of the fridge like I have for all those years and realized she wasn’t here anymore and that I would never be able to see her or kiss her or hold her again. I had no idea how to manage my feelings. I was choking I was crying so hard—and then I heard this voice inside that said, Write to her.

So, being the Moleskine hoarder that I am, I walked over to my desk and opened a brand new one and began in my favorite black marker, Dear Rumi, I miss you so much… It’s been years since I hand wrote in a journal, but I have written to her every day since she left and I feel so close to her. My point here is not the Moleskine. My point is the writing. The pouring out of feelings to someone you think will listen and who loves you so much and never wants you to hurt. We simply cannot bear these things alone.

We are never lost to ourselves when we take refuge in our creative expression. There is deep comfort to be felt there.

All this is to say, I hope you will join Tracey Clark and I for our month-long photography course, Two Takes which is about using photography to support, sustain, and comfort you in your life.

Which, for me, is another way to say, How to Live?

Images and words from photographer and writer Bindu Wiles. You can find more about Bindu on her blog or find her on Instagram @binduwiles.

Share with us today the image(s) in which you have found refuge and you'll be entered to win a random drawing for a complementary registration for Two Takes. Leave your comment by midnight EST 3/8. The winner will be announced on Friday 3/9.

Comments

[rakusribut]

wow bindu, that was a big punch in the gut.... still reeling
the question how to live is such a major one.... and you can only ever find the answer deep within yourself
your story relates to so much of my own pain and struggle.... i can only say from experience that it eventually does get better as long as you take very good care of yourself and let others help you with that
(and within a few weeks i will probably have forgotten this myself and be hurting like hell and searching for a way how to deal with it....)
anyway, i know about the healing power of photography (i should know, having 5 photoblogs lol)
last week i took some shots in amsterdam, where i used to work and now only go once or twice a year, because my world has narrowed considerably and i don't go out much anymore
your post and pics mad me think of these shots

http://hipstamoments.blogspot.com/2012/03/amsterdam-by-night.html

helga

ps and i sure would like to join you and tracey in your class, even tho (or rather: especially since) i am currently involved in a less personal, more technical photography course

[Karin]

I am just sitting here, silently, for a while now after reading this post. The pain is dripping off the screen so to speak and I so much would love to stretch out my arms and give you a hug.

Sometimes pain can be overwhelming. Loss and loneliness, oh especially loneliness, can fight their way through your body like sharp knifes. Taking photographs is something that helps me too, although I am still searching for the best way, it is something that seems just out of reach sometimes.

http://www.the-f-girl.com/index.php/2011/12/14/self-portrait-14-12-2011/

This shot I took and was afraid to add to my blog. But yet it felt like such a powerful moment. Daring to be vulnerable made me feel stronger than ever before. And seeing myself in this shot, all alone, felt like I could comfort myself in a way. Does that sound strange? I am not even sure how to describe it.

I'm touched deeply today by your post. Thank you for sharing.

[LeAnne]

I am nearly 47 myself and I'm experiencing a dark time as well. So much of your post resonated with me, and the question of "How to Live" has been a large one looming in my life for several years now. Like you, there are many things going on in my life that I find unfair and difficult to accept. Photography has been my refuge as well. I posted about it on my blog recently here http://www.photosbyleanne.net/2012/02/facing-darkness.html

This course sounds like something I could use as well. I'm going ot check it out. Praying for peace and clarity for you as you move through this dark night.

[Maria]

I don’t have a photo to add because every photo I have taken over the past three years (yup, right around the age of 47 too) has really been about “how to live.” Lost, alone, hurt, and so very confused . . . all only to be exacerbated by hormonal changes left me seeking therapy, seeking relief. Jump ahead three years and my photography has evolved to become my daily therapy and my blog is my public record of that therapy. I have also come to understand that this will be an ongoing and ever evolving process. Your story has put words to yet so my un-describable feelings . . . and I thank you.
http://creativelensphotoblog.wordpress.com/

[Paige]

I was in a similar place three years ago, at age 47. I just turned 50 in January. Two things: this unsettling time will pass and - you are sooo right that seeking "flow" (your creative expression) is one way to work through the pain and keep going until the fog lifts, and it will. If fact finding activities that create flow will make you happy and give purpose to your life. I went through a period of time where nothing made sense and I felt out of sync with life. Nothing worked, or mattered anymore. So many things that had worked for years no longer worked. It took a while, but at 50 I have a renewed sense of self and a peace in moving forward. You will too. Find other activities (other than your camera) that also offer creative outlets (such as writing). Coming at life from different angles will help you pick up your camera again with a new love and energy when you get past the pain.

[Kathryn Dyche Dechairo]

Wow, what an incredibly powerful post and one that resonated with me deeply. I have been suffering with atypical facial nerve pain for the past ten months and there have been times when the pain has been excruciating. Surprisingly photography and my blog helped me get through some of those dark days. I am glad that walking and photography helps you as it does me. Hugs.

[starrlife]

Poignant and touching post that I can feel to my toes. I came to blogging first in the midst of a major life blow within my marriage, then found that as other blows came along (my 3 cats, one by one over a 5 year span and my aging) I got deeper and deeper into just this space that you describe and found solace in reaching out, writing and finally photography. I am no means an artist but I do know that creativity has become a well that I can draw on. Here is my photo of my last beautiful cat and I, http://flic.kr/p/aXcheg.
Also, I read an amazing book called Let's Take The Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell that hit just these notes perfectly.
Life is totally about acceptance and submission- I wish I'd known that a long time ago....
Hugs and peace sister....

[Heather]

All of this, I have felt. With each and every loss, a part of you changes and will never return the same...not ever. I am very strong in my relationship with God, even so.....this changes, also. Growing through all of what life gives and takes is such an emotional process, I'm amazed that any of us can ever function properly until the end....but we do. I, too, found myself in a place with photography and especially my writing, while my mother was in her last years and beyond. The clarity that is spoken of in the view through our eyes, it's truly there. I see it these days. I thought that it was only me {which tends to be normal for me....thoughts, ideas, descriptions of life...tend to be only me}. Very few people that I come into contact with can understand the 'me' that exists and tries to create an understanding. They don't 'get it'.

My mother has been gone since 2008. We've lost, my husband and I, our sweetest companions. When we first got together, he had his boy that was born into his own hands. A few years later, we rescued my girl. They lived together with us for their lifetime{s}. It was so hard to see them go....the boy, first, due to old age and being a large breed {his name was Ugly}. My girl couldn't live without him, we never found out the reasoning of her paralization. It came suddenly within six months of his passing, quick and fierce. We spent so much on tests trying to find out why...the Vet even went beyond our own money to try to find the cause. It wasn't found and her quality of life was diminishing every single day. She was an active girl, it killed me to see her suffering so.

I understand.

All of your words.

♥

[Kate Sutterfield]

http://polkadotrunner.wordpress.com/2012/03/07/capturing-moments/

:)

[justin]

I absolutly loved this post. I also use my camera theraputically. My macro lens is especially helpfull when I need a break from my internal world. It allows me to completely focus on what I am doing and quiets my mind.


http://extraordinarymagic.blogspot.com/2011/02/beauty-of-ice.html

Peace to you.

[sarah]

"We are never lost to ourselves when we take refuge in our creative expression."
thank you for that.

and the sea, just this week i chose to actually step in. i needed to not only see, smell, breathe it in, i needed to be in.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/the-mer-family/6808441160/in/photostream

it was my refuge, safe place, renewal.

[Roxanne]

Thank you for this post - it truly resonated.

I find refuge in love. In connection after (long) distance. In feeling alive. In markets and vibrant colors and clouds and a routine that is soothing, not oppressive.

Here is a glimpse into my refuge this week: http://measuringlifeinphotographs.tumblr.com/#18902240868

[sugarleg]

thank you Bindu and I know your Rumi is resting in peace with my Rocco... put him down in January after totally unexpected illness that took him from me way too soon. my solace is in writing and I have been so desperately muted by this latest heartbreak. I am going to work very hard to take your inspiration here and get my Moleskines out and put my blog posts up, because I too know that is the best way to heal. I am scared, but I want to stop feeling the heavy drag of sadness and worry.

[Lola]

What a powerful post. Thank you for sharing your words and your pain. You are not alone in this world. There are many of us that need to heal from past hurts. I found photography (or I should say it found me) and it saved me.

Here is one image that brings to mind a time of intense loss and intense love.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/motherhen/5373790905/in/photostream

[annie]

Just want to say thank you for this post. It resonates deeply with me and tears are leaking from my eyes as I write this.

[Genie Gratto]

Every time I ride the ferry between Oakland and San Francisco, I see something beautiful, and I get a moment of peace. Here are three images that I've captured on those rides:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/inadvertentgardener/6541119215/in/photostream
http://www.flickr.com/photos/inadvertentgardener/4143110514/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/inadvertentgardener/6307192859/

[Sandee]

Thank you, Bindu. That was such a powerful post. Wow.

[glena]

I understand.
I, too, have been there.
My topic for my AA meeting last night was 'acceptance'....there are no coincidences- always synchronicity. I met my friend, Didi, at AA in March of '04. We quickly became soul sisters in every sense of the word.
In June of '09 Didi was a victim of suicide. I can never explain to anyone how it felt to have the earth open beneath my feet and expose the bowels of hell. To know, absolutely know, that she was no longer on this earth ............and there was NOTHING that I could do to change it..... I have never, Never, felt such pain.
Now ... what a big word. Now on the other side of and through this unbelievable grief (it will be 3 years this June 2012).. there was no help for this grief, none. I tried to find it but it wasn't there. I had to live each day with it ... through the anger, the confusion, the pain. I just allowed myself to be with my grief, as you are doing. I screamed, I cried, I listened to one cd over, and over, and over. I will never be the same person I was. I am now a better human being than I ever was. Life on life's terms.... I never new what pain there really was in life. Sending waves of peace in you direction.

[Gail]

Bindu, I'm so sorry for the depth of your pain...we cannot avoid in this life...but some of us suffer more than others...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/felucca2008/3085212367

[Elisa]

Bindu-

So much of what you just wrote rang true with me. I don't know you, but I have loved and lost several special kids (dogs) over the years. I felt your pain through your writing. Know that you are loved, you have loved, and you will love again. In the mean time--I know that Rumi is missing you as much as you miss her. Maybe she is playing with my Moqui and Queequeg.

[Meghan @ Life Refocused]

Thank you for sharing this gorgeous and honest post, Bindu. I put down my dog in January and know so well that ache of grief. Love and light to you with losing Rumi. And I love how photography gets you in "flow" and you can lose yourself in it. xoxo

[Laura]

Hi Bindu,

Big warm hugs to you....I know that this is such a sacred hard time....I had a himalyan cat for 17 years...she went through 12 moves with me...I had to put her down about 7 years ago..I still talk to her and feel her presence at times. It comforts me.

I can totally relate to the 47 and "is this my beautiful life" question.....I guess it's part of nature's cycles....still is way harder and hard to tell if you're crazy, it's stress, creative angst, hormones or some disease! lol.....

I was at a retreat on a farm the last few days...I took photos everywhere...I find I do better with nature, animals, unexpected occurances but not humans....I honor that in you as you do it so beautifully. Your photos are truly a gift to humanity!

[Michelle]

Bindu, You post has brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing so honestly. I can relate so much to what you say. I am just approaching my 44th birthday and these past years I have felt and seen things entirely differently. I also had to have our beloved dog put to sleep at the end of January. I made the extra effort to take photographs of him on that morning. Something I wouldn't have done before. But I am so glad I did as I love that he is smiling in this picture despite his pain. That is how I remember him and it makes me smile while being sad.

http://www.blog.michellefischerphotography.com/2012/01/blog-post.html

but at that time I couldn't bare to write about it, it was just too painful so I just posted a picture on my blog instead.

I wrote about how I felt the day before with out saying what it was I had to do. Not being much of a writer It did help to write about my feelings even though it was short and only I knew what it meant.

http://www.blog.michellefischerphotography.com/2012/01/dark-tunnels.html

[Michelle]

Oh, I wanted to add I love your images. They say so much I have to keep looking at them.

[Lisa Robinson]

Thank you for sharing. I don't know what it is about being 47, but turning that age gave me an opportunity to look in the mirror of my life and decide if what I saw was who I wanted to be. It was one of my most difficult experiences, and when I came out on the other side, I couldn't help but be changed. I am also a Moleskine hoarder, and the power of the written word has helped me get down from the ledge more than once. Your words brought tears to my eyes and reminded me of what it means to live. Blessings to you and to the path you travel.

[amanda {the habit of being}]

what an amazingly beautiful post.

this image posted recently on my blog, is a refuge for me. the light. the wool yarn from my knitting. knitting is my quiet every evening. knitting brings me back to center and quiets the voices in my head. through the repetitive motion of stitch after stitch after stitch, i lose myself, my worries, my problems, and with each stitch feel peace washing over me.

http://www.thehabitofbeing.com/journal/?p=4268

[Susan R]

Thank you for your post. I too have recently found refuge and comfort in the lens as I struggle through grief and mourning. It is amazing to me how taking the time to see things this way removes me from the pain and loneliness and helps me to see the world as something other than the feelings I am experiencing. And as I all too quickly approach 50 I understand quite well the beauty in the every day that I didn't take the time to see earlier in life.

I would love to win a spot in Two Takes, thank you for the opportunity.

[Stacey Dawn]

I feel like I've been searching for a way to live - the answer to the HOW? forever...
I finally found the hope I needed and my saving grace in Jesus. Truly.
I've found caring people, true friends and family that support me now. It's been a long, long road.
With many utter despair moments and periods of life - but the tide has changed as I focus more and more on Him.
Praying for you.

[mary]

This place is where I find refuge, renewal and peace:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7265965@N05/6758117687/in/photostream

Thank you for this incredibly touching post, Bindu. Hugs to you and very much love.

[Barbara]

While I have not experienced the pain you are going through, I watch and see people I love all around me struggling with hard issues. Sick children, divorce, betrayal from spouses, financial ruin and all I can do is hold them in my heart and listen. So, I will with your words, too. I've already signed up for the class, but if I win I'd like to give it to someone who is going through a really hard time and is a photographer, too. With Love, Barbara

[Cynthia Morris]

Bindu

My heart goes out to you. Thank you for sharing your darkest moments and your ways through them.

I believe, too, that our art is our way through to our sanity and to our happiness. I recently confirmed this belief in myself and am glad to hear that it's true for you, too.

I love walking and making photographs and know that it's a way to stay connected to the world and to move on a very basic, human, one foot in front of the other level.

I'm going to NYC next week and I shall take walks and make photos and send a thank you to your city for holding you.

Cynthia

[Laine]

Beautifully honest. Thank you for sharing. Your post resonates within my heart as well. Praying for peace and solace for you. Photography has been my solace too. I find myself when I am lost in the creativity.

[Lissa @ lafcustomdesigns]

Whew! I breathe a sigh for you. I can only imagine I will feel the same when I lose my sweet Kobi. Forturnatly, I should have lots of years yet with him. But I have lost another dog, Max, and it took me five years to be ready to love that deeply again. Loss is a part of life ... a part that helps us have appreciation for the things we have. May you feel all the arms of those who responded here wrapped around you in comfort and consolation. Let your feelings flow. Let time pass and do its work. Be easy with yourself. And don't let others influence how fast you move on. It is your journey, not theirs.

Given some recent challenges of my own, I made a "hope" collage.
Maybe it will give you hope too, Bindu. in love and light, laf

http://www.lafcustomdesigns.com/2012/03/holding-hope-lightly-collage.html

[Siobhan Wolf]

Writing and photography have always been the place that I go when things fall apart. Your sharing moved me so deeply. When I am out in it with camera in hand, it brings me back to this place of peace.

http://flic.kr/p/boptxW

Thank you for sharing your heart.

[UpGemini]

I'll turn 40 in May and can somehow find myself in Bindu's words. Life can be tough and sometimes I feel I am still missing the point. However, looking at my grandfather's picture, with his open, serene laugh, gives me a direction, a meaning. He died almost two years ago, past his 91st birthday. I still remember our skype calls. He went to school to learn how to use a computer when he was 85... that's my reminded, laugh (at yourself, if needed) and be curious, always. Love xxx

[Heather]

Journaling and photography are 2 of my healing and connecting tools! Thanks for the chance.. I found inspiraiton, hope and comfort in the image I am linking to

http://www.flickr.com/photos/toliveinspired/6745129769/in/photostream

[pthurmond1]

http://www.flickr.com/photos/50901045@N02/6814420250/in/photostream/lightbox/
I find refuge in the beauty God has given us. I simply enjoy it more through photography.

[melissa]

thank you for this exquisite and generous offering. tracey and bindu together is magic.

nature is always a healing refuge for me...
http://melissarivera.wordpress.com/2012/02/28/mantra-9/

[Linda]

I do find solace behind the lens. I can completely shut out the world when I become deliberate about a shot.

http://focusingonlifegrp.blogspot.com/2012/03/deliberatation.html

[carmen]

Thank you for sharing your story. I use writing and photography as a way to express myself, just like you. For me it goes hand in hand with life -- the good and the bad. I recently suffered lose as well and I wasn't able to pull out my camera or even write for awhile, but I did find that moment when it felt right to get my camera out. It was sudden and I knew I had to grab it.

http://decentxposure.ca/exblog/?p=834

[koreen]

There is nothing harder than the loss of a beloved pet. For some reason, we overlook it as impactful, if not inevitable. We expect and understand the complexity and depth of grief when we think of humans we love. The death of a family pet hits us far harder for it's unexpected strength of feeling. And when we're often closer to our pets, as beloved children and confidants, the pain is unimaginable.

[paige :: approaching joy]

Bindu-
Your post made me think of my family's own loss. And knowing that someone else is hurting is never a consolation but sometimes, in a small way, it can be empowering.
http://instagr.am/p/H6q62dyNIv/
Thanks for being willing to share your story.

[beth]

I take refuge in that space carved out by lens. I find solace in shutting everything out except the image in front of. But lately... I feel like I've seen it, dome it, felt it all before. Then I found myself in a new place, buying treats for my family. I saw the group of culinary students getting lectured by the instructor before they started baking and making new creations. Suddenly I picked up my camera and started shooting. I began to wonder, what if that were me. Could I wear that hat, that coat, and make something that tasted out-of-this-world? Do have what it takes to welcome a new challenge into my life?

You never know when your dreams will find you.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/65102482@N04/6818546640/in/photostream

[Helene]

I am so thankful I did not miss this post. My camera has kept me sane. Thank you! Hugs

[meadowlarkdays]

We just returned from a trip in which I spent time with my mom (58) who has advanced Alzheimer's, and with my brand new niece - the good and the not-so-good all mixed together. I was thankful for the beauty of a new little life to celebrate.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/30626128@N00/6965803785/in/photostream

[LunaJune]

I hear your pain
I feel your loss
I forget the words to my own
to hold me in this beautiful moment
I see what fills me with joy every day
I open my eyes searching for it
and when i see it.. feel it... touch it... sing it... taste it...
it reminds me of the joy life has
I give no voice to my pain...
I have spilled it out...
here there and everywhere
and like turning my back on smoking
I have turned my back on pain
and face the sun and the wind and the rain

your words touch such nerves... tears.. and hugs
so many of us are broken... but never before has there been such a way for us to heal
and share.
looking for your pictures

[Trishac]

You are not alone. You are loved but someone awesome and beautiful. It was awesome to read your post and know that...I too am not alone. I have to remind myself daily that this life on earth..is school...where we are here to learn and although the lessons can be extremely difficult...in the end...they are revitalizing.

My post:

http://simpleserendipityphotography.blogspot.com/2012/03/turmoil.html

[Chelsea]

What a wonderful, beautiful, and powerful post. Thank you so much for pouring your heart out like you did. I can relate on so many levels to what you have written, as my life has been a constant string of ups and downs and more struggles than I would like to acknowledge. But when I rediscovered photography a few years ago, actually it was on Shutter Sisters...it changed me. It gave me something to be passionate about. It gave me a focus, and I could not think of a better word than refuge. If I am having a bad day, going on a photo walk always calms me and lifts me spirits.

http://heartsandscars.blogspot.com/2011/11/30-days-of-gratitude_30.html

[Lauren]

Your post resonates with me to my core. I am in the middle of processing some serious baggage and I haven't really been sure what to do with myself. I'm very down, depressed, angry and cry quite a bit these days. Slowly, I've been letting things go that are unhealthy for me and my recovery. But I've been yearning for something safe and expressive to fill the space. Maybe I need to turn back to my lens. I've taken pictures my whole life of things that make me happy and maybe it's time to try that from a perspective of healing. Or at least sitting with my feelings.

About a year and a half ago, we lost our sweet dog to a silent, agressive cancer. We were literally taking pictures with the dogs and decorating the trees one minute and then the next we were speeding off to the emergency vet in the middle of the night. Hailey did not come home again. That tore me apart to the core and brings tears to my eyes, even as I write this now. Maybe I need some more expression and healing in this area. This photo was taken about two weeks before she died and I wonder if she knew: http://www.flickr.com/photos/18572605@N02/4157900185/in/photostream. And here is a photo that was literally taken moments before she collapsed: http://www.flickr.com/photos/18572605@N02/4158663418/in/photostream/. I'm just now realizing how much my heart broke and I'm wondering how to I heal it. It's so apropos to my struggles now.

I guess I don't really have a point to offer, other then to say being down in the ugly trenches sucks! And I admire that you've found a way to cope. Maybe it's something I need to try on for myself.

[Jennifer Hagedorn Dizon]

dearest bindu,

i feel so much for you and what you wrote... no matter how i think i have learned the concept of non-attachment and that nothing is permanent and that everything changes; that perhaps i understand more deeply each time i go for refuge in our sangha and we study buddhism and i feel a little "wiser", stronger, and can somehow see through the illusions, and i understand why we all suffer, well, now, i'm not sure i really do. i have two cats i love so very, very much... they touch my life so deeply and give me so much love and continue to teach me unconditional love... i feel scared when i think one day i'm going to have to say goodbye. the thought - the mere thought - breaks my heart already.

you are so brave in your sadness... i know that maybe a lot of days it hardly feels like you're being brave at all. there is something about your post that is not just about losing rumi and going through mid-life or something of a mix of all of that going on at the same time -- and i'm not saying that to belittle anything or make one bigger than the other. there is something about your post that is so human and raw and full of courage and full of love that speaks to me and to us all... that reaches out and makes the throat hurt, the tears fall... it is being brave in this life to love and lose and then begin again; to honor the beauty of our emotions and express that in our art; to honor the beings or things that touch our lives and then share it with the world. thank you for your courage and your words.

sending you a lot of love and warm hugs for times when you need it the most.

love, peace, and healing,
jen