Love Thursday: Somebody Loved

I'm writing this Love Thursday post from my studio in the attic while The Weepies and my daughter Madeleine keep me good company.  We can't stop listening to "Somebody Loved."  Do you know it?  Here are a few of my favorite lines:

Now my feet turn the corner back home
Sun turns the evening to rose
Stars turning high up above
You turn me into
You turn me into
You turn me into somebody loved

What is it about the sweet companionship of another dear soul that transforms you into somebody loved?  It can happen in an instant--the unexpected smile of your favorite baby, the confidence of a much needed sage, the quiet admiration of a little brother--and before you know it your soul fills up with the knowledge your presence matters.

This Love Thursday I hope you are surprised by all the ways kindness is turning you into somebody loved--I can't wait to see your images.  And if you feel lost today on the road to love, don't despair.  Your eye through the viewfinder will remind you love is all around you, that all the love you need is coming your way, sooner than you think.

Stories from Rwanda: Love Waiting at the End of A Dirt Road

 

"How long do you think it will take before I start to feel better?"  I ask my neighbor Nick as he makes dinner for my little urban family.  I am supposed to be helping, but all I can do is walk circles through the house, thinking of my recent trip to Rwanda and all the stories still swirling in my head.

"I think it will take awhile," he says gently, not wanting to disappoint me, but wanting to tell me the truth.  As my soul brother he knows my heart is wrecked as much from the happiness of being there as the sorrow of coming home.  I wander between our houses trying to remember what I used to do before experiencing so much love in that tiny village, in that sweet family--the home of my dearest friend Odette.  I wonder why I am here and not there.  I wonder if there is any place on earth as sacred or as real.  I sift through a thousand pictures, each one drawing me close into its memory, each one keeping me safe while my soul tries to make sense of this experience.

Who could have guessed so much joy, so much love lies waiting at the end of a dirt road?

I would like to beg you, as well as I can, to have patience, Rilke said, with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.  Don't search for answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them.  And the point is to live everything.  Live the questions now.  Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

I hope you will find the courage today to live your truest questions and that one image will be your touchstone as you give yourself over to everything unresolved in your heart.   I am telling stories of love, resilience, acceptance and hope from Rwanda everyday on my blog.  Feel free to leave your links to the images that inspire you to take a risk in the comments below.   Or better yet, why not your favorite image of a long and winding road?

Blinded by the Light

"What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?'  Mary Oliver

 That question has been with me long before I had heard of the poet Mary Oliver or dared to picture myself on  daring adventures to faraway lands.  I couldn't have imagined then, that a ten day trip to Rwanda would be in my future.  In a little over a week, I will be visiting villages, making new friends and trying to uncover the plans waiting to be revealed for more than one African schoolgirl like my little friend above. 

 I'll be taking not one camera, but two.  One for me, and one for my host.  Of all the things he could ask me to bring, he's wishing for a camera more than anything.   He has an artist's eye, my friend tells me.  He knows how to see things.

 I hope I'll know how to see things, too, when I finally arrive.  I don't know if I'll have the luxury of waiting for late afternoon to capture my subjects in the best light.  I don't know if the sun will work against me in a place not too far from the equator.  I'm still such a new photographer that I'm still learning how to see the shot when the sun is shining bright.

 Do you have one capture in particular that really shines in bright light?  What are your best tips for taking photographs under these kinds of conditions?  Bring them one and all--I'll be taking notes.  I don't want to miss the moments that are waiting for me in what is sure to be a wild and precious chapter in my life. 

Lost and Found

All day I wandered through the house searching through little stacks of papers. Of all things, how could I have lost this? My friend had entrusted me with her most important picture--a snapshot of her with her two daughters taken on the day they said good-bye. She didn't know that it would be two years with only this shot to remind her of how hopeful they all were--and must continue to be until they are together again.

And now I have lost one of the only records of their last time together. Great.

"I'll scan it for you," I said. "That way we can keep it safe."

Safe. What was I thinking? In two short days I misplaced the picture and experienced a catastrophic hard drive failure. At least a thousand of my own photographs gone--poof!--never to be seen again. Searching the house, looking for my friend's photo--the key to her most important memories--I was reminded of what a critical role pictures play in telling our story, keeping our history. Without them, I start to lose the very things I vow always to remember. Without them, as in the case of my friend, we hold our children in our heart without knowing how they've grown or how they felt--the last time we said good-bye.

I'm thinking this is an occasion where sisterhood might really make a difference. Let's promise each other right now we'll scan those old photos (and memories) and that we'll back those babies up at least once a week. Leave your tips and tricks for keeping all your photos safe in the comments below along with links to the photo you must never lose.

Thanks to Flickr, I still have the originals of some of my most treasured moments. And thanks, to a flash of memory right before I sat down to type this post, I remembered that special "safe" place where I'd left my friend's photo. You better believe I'll be returning that picture first thing in the morning. I don't ever want to lose something so important ever again!

What do you say, Shutter Sisters? What's the plan to make sure we don't lose all the magic (and memories) we make with our cameras (and our dear ones) everyday? I know for certain, that here is one sister who desperately needs your help!

Where Truth Resides

I could capture her in her perfection.   The bold silver of her hair or the light magic of her eyes when she's listening in close to every word you say.   With any luck, I could take that image and make it shine even more with my fingers at the keyboard, as her years and her flaws slip away.  I could do all this and make you see her, make you love her, make you understand who she is without any imperfections holding you back from the truth. 

 This is my work, I tell myself.  To eliminate the distractions.  To take the flaws of the photo or the subject and minimize them until all you can see is the beauty.  This is why we have the tools right?  This is what it means to be an artist in a digital age.

 But what if the beauty is in the lines that show with each passing age?  What if the magic of knowing her is to see the way that love (and sorrow) has made her face worn and kind?  What if the only way to know the truth is to make the imperfection plain?

I worry I am using my photography to tell a story about my life that isn't always true.  I wonder if I am clicking away all the rough edges, only to make pictures that tell half truths of my raw, messy, beautiful life.   How would things change if I used my post-processing skills to highlight all the places truth resides when things are anything but perfect?

Show me the photos where beauty shines in the absence of perfection.  I want to see your real life--the one that celebrates what is true, no matter what.