Cardstock to make cards from scratch: $5

Colored pencils, pens and stickers to decorate cards: $15

Postage to overnight the cards to the messenger: $45

A chance to send hope notes to the girls of Rwanda: priceless

 

As many of you know, our lovely Jen is leaving to take her sweet self, her zines, blank journals, pens, hearts, these handwritten hope notes and a film to share with the girls of Rwanda. Girls who need encouragement and support more than we can ever imagine.

For those of us who remain here while Jen single handedly delivers these messages (indeed, she is a superhero of hope), the photos and videos that she captures over there will be the only way we can truly share the trip with her. But beyond that, her photographs will serve as the only recent record that one mother has of her daughters. Imagine how it would feel to see a photo of your child after 2 years of not seeing any. Two years. And then comes a day when a rare and beautiful gift is handed to you through one photograph. A single image that would surely take any mother’s breath away.

Simple truths like this remind me that when we hold our cameras, we hold incredible power. How lucky are we to shoot photo after photo of our own children, of friends and family. Each image a gift. A gift that is indeed priceless.

As we send our sister off on the journey of a lifetime, let’s honor her with links to our own priceless photographs, shall we? It’ll be our little way of showing her our Shutter Sisters support.

Safe travels Jen, we will all be eagerly awaiting stories and photos. Lots and lots of glorious, priceless photos.

Am I the only one that goes through phases—or maybe more appropriately, obsessions—in my photographic inclinations? A particular angle of interest, recurring subject matter or tiny detail of something specific that for one reason or another draws you in and urges you to recognize them? I’ve been in and out of different phases like this ever since I really got into photography. Some of my past focal fixations have included grain, blur, and toys. And don’t get me started on my passion for the blossoms and blooms that have not only piqued my interest but have held me and my camera captive for the last few months.

When it comes to capturing images of the details of my children, obsession is a mild term. With each passing day there seems to be something perfectly endearing to turn my camera toward. Right now, I’m all about my youngest daughter’s hair—her straggly, stringy, swishing, swooping, swinging hair. I am spellbound by the way it frames her face, wispy blonde strands getting caught up in her dark lashes, brushing her flushed cheeks. My urchin princess. I even cut it myself for fear some insensitive hair dresser might rob me of my photo fetish. See. I told you. I'm obsessed.

And you? I’m curious as to what you have been unable to keep your lens away from. Do you have a photo flavor of the month? Come on, show us your obsessions—we’re all friends here.

Sarah Jessica Parker has said of the characters in Sex and the City: There’s not just the four of us girls. There’s a fifth, and she’s New York City, and she sparkles.

Here, there’s not just the one subject—a boy, for his first birthday—there are two. The boy and the light.

A photo is a snapshot when light is absent—there, obviously, but not playing an active role. That’s alright sometimes. For when you grab the camera to snap cookie dough on a cheek, candles on a cake.

For me, snapshots become more conscious when that special sort of light plays to my favour by chance—inches from a windowpane on a cloudy day, all diffused and wistful, or a burst of beloved flare that bounces off the water, glowing like some watchful spirit.

Specialness in light can be summoned, too, by calling it on stage: tracks on the kitchen ceiling, for instance, thrown out of focus for just what I wanted—the feel of a vintage wonder wheel, a circus, stars for my birthday boy and his spirit-brother.

I need it today. Show me light that’s conscious and manipulated, or discovered by chance, featured as that sparkling ‘fifth character’. Send some my way, will you?

Throughout the day, we move up and down along our journey. Passing from light to dark and back to light again. Sometimes when the planets align, when the sun is nearing its descent, I'm given a gift called 'time of day'. I sit half in and half out of the kitchen door. My bare feet on the back step while my son plays in the dirt with his trucks. He lays there all Zen like, lost in his own world while I sit with camera in hand as dinner simmers on the stove. The late afternoon sunlight streams in, and I can't help to think that life couldn't get much better than this. The closeness we have while in a different headspace from each other is most magical. I learn of him, of all his details while behind my camera. Of course some days, my camera is used as a shield or filter for true-life realities not so sunny. But on an afternoon like this, my camera is the magnifying glass. And the beauty I find is that he is willing to let our worlds gently mingle. We brush up against each other at this time of day. When I am mother/photographer/dinner burner/chore slacker/multi-tasker. And he is the barefoot boy child zooming trucks over clumps of dirt.

As he grows into himself, I find myself a mere observer. Not completely understanding the language or the rules of his boy planet. Sometimes I inch up close to him with my camera to capture this life of his that is only his. This breath as it slips and slides and grows before my very eyes. Wanting to remember it all overwhelms me. And so I focus. I have come to learn by taking photos throughout my days and weeks that what I'm trying to preserve is my perception of how life is. What I want to preserve is the way the moment finds my heart. While looking through my photo archives, I discover that i mainly focus on sunlight: how it feels splashing down across his shoulders, how it appears to me on afternoons like this. Today I focus on the leaf he discovers and offers up to me on a rock pedestal, "Keep it safe for me, Momma." This is his gift to me, and it's more precious than I ever knew. He gives me this time, this memory, and this space to document it as I see it.

There's something magical viewing life through someone else's camera lens. Most often it's a stranger... a person who captures something so universal, that you instantly feel as if you know them. There's kinship in the subject of the photo, the angle, the color, or the focus that speaks directly to you. This sense of familiarity is what keeps me coming back for more. I find myself at the doorstep of Shutter Sisters every morning with my cup of chai. I'm so grateful for this space to share my own today. So, share with me a bit of yourself, will you? What is your focus? The motion, the solitude. the calm, the chaos? Leave some links and share your focus, so we may learn a bit about yourself as well.

Photo and post courtesy of today's Honorary Sister/Guest Blogger Meredith Winn (aka camera shy momma).

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about mortality. Namely, my own. I’m not going to get morbid and depressing about it, I promise. But since my mind has been wandering amidst the what-ifs, I’ve decided to try being quiet with these inevitable thoughts (and yes, fears) and listen to what the angels are saying. You know, the ones that gently glide by beckoning the big questions;

Are you doing what’s important? Are you living your best life? Are you spending time on what matters most?

I think we would all like to answer yes but sometimes we just aren’t doing the things that matter, as we are clouded by daily demands. It’s the way it goes. But then there are the reminders that lift us from our fog, stories that stir our souls awake, or circumstances and situations that bring the big picture back into focus.

Jen Balantine’s question has been ringing in my ears and instead of leaving my list on paper, I’ve decided to begin to make a dent in it. I want to make a deliberate schedule to fit in the things that matter most; the things that I would do if I had only a few months to live. I plan on making a priority getting all the wonderful photos and stories of my children’s lives off of the computer and organized and into books and memory boxes. I want to create for my girls something tangible to hold onto, to look through, to remind them of their life growing up in our family. Growing up with me. I want them to know (even beyond the knowing that they will always carry with them) that I was here, that I am here, in living color. Everyday. Giving baths, braiding hair, sewing buttons on pants, dancing in the living room, making projects and school lunches, going on field trips and adventure walks and taking pictures. I plan to take time out to do the things I want to do…for me and for them. I’m considering it my date night with destiny. As simple as it may seem, this is what I would do if I knew I only had a few months to live so, I’m going to start doing it now. And I know I’m going to love doing it.

How about you? What would you do? And are you willing to start doing it now?

Thanks to all of you who offered hope through your beautiful images for the auction. The proceeds will be helping Jen and her son as she  faces days ahead that seem to keep getting tougher for her. The auction is up and running so head over and bid on your favorite things. Be sure to click on the item you have your eye on to get more info on the object or photo and the person behind it. It makes it that much more special. Thanks again. You are all incredible.