The Bottom of Everything

The bottom of everything is love.

That's what I thought to myself while she cried, while I cried, while we argued about everything without ever touching the real thing. That her heart was hurting from an old wound. That she was counting on me and I was counting on her and that we had let each other down when it mattered the very most.

We won't talk about this again. Ever. Can we agree on that?

I shrug. Sure. Whatever. We can talk or not talk but the truth is it is still here, this sadness, this fierce love, this beautiful tension between what we hope for and the way it is.

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The bottom of everything is grief.

That's what I thought to myself when he smiled, when he had tried to explain over Thanksgiving dinner how they met in Beijing without making her sound too much like a mail-order bride. It's wasn't like that at all, his eyes told me, but there was no need to explain. He had found her, and something in his heart instantly mended. I could see it all over her face.

How old do you think they are?  Fatou asked, motioning to our guests--the man and his not-a-mail-order-bride, the lovely Chinese woman in the fantastic red jacket.

I have no idea, I told her. But they have that kind of happiness that comes from understanding what it means to be sad. The kind of gratitude that comes after thinking for so long you would always be alone.

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These are the stories I think about later, looking at the shots of everyone's hands and that red jacket, shining in every picture.

These are the stories I think about when I want to get to the bottom of everything, when I wonder if grief will wreck us, when I wonder if love can truly be more than enough, when I want to know what it is exactly that will make our souls whole.

Leave a comment below and today's lovely giveaway winner will receive:

a collection of TRUST notes and a donation made to this project in the name of someone you love. We'll send a lovely card announcing your donation to whomever you choose.

Congratulations to Kristina of Meadowlark Days for winning yesterday's giveaway--artwork by Amy Ruppel.  Lucky lady.

When You Look

When you look through the lens, you may find...

the weariness reserved for little girls up way past their bedtime,

the beauty of innocence,

the sweetness of waiting,

a new Alice in Wonderland ready for a new world, a new Queen, a brave new adventure,

a too long forgotten, tender lost part of you, waiting to be claimed once again.

Oh the things you will find, when you look through the lens.

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What are you finding when you look through your lens today? Tell us all things simple and true in the comments today, and don't forget links to your unique point of view.

Making History

If you're a Shutter Sister who happens to live stateside, today is the day your photo tells the story of history in the making.  No matter if you vote to send a woman or an African-American to the White House--together as a nation we've expanded our shared sense of what's possible in America and that's no small feat.  Have you ever had a better reason for a photo op?

How will you capture your historic vote today?  What will you catch in the lens to help you (and your children) remember this ground-breaking election forever?

Please vote today and when you come back home, leave us a link to what making history looks like from wherever you are and however you're feeling.  It's an incredibly important day.

superhero photo challenge: counter this

Sometimes you have to go across the street or around the world to find that perfect shot, but most of the time the picture you've been waiting for is right under your nose.  What happens when you confine your eye to what's closest to you?  Can you find the shot?  This week we're going to find out.

For this week's Superhero Photo Challenge, go to your kitchen counter and capture that glimpse of ordinary magic you might have overlooked otherwise.   Share your photos and links here in the comments below.

The Courage To Let It Click

She was holding on for dear life, trying not to cry, trying not to care that everyone else had their face pressed to the viewfinder, while she sat on the blanket, her hands all the sudden empty and bored. 

It's okay, she told me later.  It's fine.  Everyone has their thing, mine just happens to not be photography.   I can be totally okay with that.  Not everyone is creative.

I listen while she pulls yet another fabulous color out of her suitcase, while she wraps her body in elegance and magic.  I watch while she takes her regal unassuming self right into the kitchen, where she arranges a magnificent feast on a platter, a feast so vibrant and fine, I wish for my camera that instant, so I can capture her palette forever.   What would happen, I ask myself, if I could see the world through her lens?  If she had the courage to let it click--her every waking impulse and this art coursing through her veins?

Every artist starts somewhere, I tell her months later, when she tells me her hands still feel empty, when I can see her sadness over having no outlet is still so great.  I threw thirteen dinner parties the year before I realized I could embrace my art in a more deliberate way, I tell her.  And before that I befriended a dozen fabulous artists.  And before that I wrapped a thousand exquisite Christmas presents.   It's a sign, I say, hoping she can hear me, that your hands are meant to create, that your eyes have a certain kind of seeing, that would make this world a better place.

She muses on that while I remember every kind creative friend who passed me her paintbrush, her drawing pencil, her Canon, so I could see for just an instant what it would feel like to be the truest, most artful me.  The creative person I had always been, the artist I was always meant to be.

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Today, why not pass your camera to someone you love, someone whose admiration for your pictures might be a sign of a shutter sister waiting to be born?  And please tell us in the comments how you came to love photography, about the time when you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could capture a beautiful picture, too.  We have some would-be photographers lurking out there who really need to hear your story.