Words to Fly By

The night before last I had the incredible honor of seeing both Anne Lamott and Elizabeth Gilbert together at the beautiful Royce Hall at UCLA. I know I know, how could it be?  Needless to say, the evening was pure magic.

Since almost every single word out of each of their mouths felt meaningful and moving, I wasn’t sure I could even write about it. Almost like a you had to be there kind of night. But I will say that in one short evening, these two incredibly authentic and articulate ladies gave a huge room full of women permission to be human—real, fumbling and flawed.

A perfect example was when someone in the audience asked them if they had by chance mastered living in the now. Wow. That’s a question.

Ms. Lamott began with an unapologetic No, which was certainly liberating in itself, but Ms. Gilbert added that she thought the living in the moment movement was somewhat overrated. Oh yes she did. She went on to share something she had recently read that made mention (and I totally paraphrase what she had paraphrased) that perhaps the key to a happy life is when one has good memories to look back on and great plans to look forward to. She ended with a simple line of advice that keeps ringing in my ears—take pictures and make plans.

Is it just me or is that most wonderful thing you’ve ever heard?

I knew these women were amazing even before attending the event but when I floated out of that concert hall with wings I began to see them as divine.

babyface

He watches a fairground ride and I wonder: what's he thinking?

Sure, they just lie there in carseat or on floor, less photographically diverse than hopping and squishing and squealing toddlers. But OH! My... the wonder that awaits a patient soul. This Easter Monday, show us your favourite baby-absorbing-world captures - with all the cereal-encrusted cheeks and gummy grins.

Because nothing quite says peace and hope like cheeks like those.

growing where you're planted

“Every blade of grass has it’s angel that bends over it and whispers, ‘grow, grow’. –The Talmud

When I wake up in the morning I usually feel pretty good. There’s a lot to look forward to in the early hours, like a strong cup of coffee and a day open for possibilities. I manage to serve breakfast, pack lunches, dress, drive and drop two kids off at school to return home, still eager to sink my teeth into the hours that lie before me. Unfortunately, the clock seems to tick in double time often leaving me feeling outrun. This in turn begins the if I could just… cycle.

If I could just work on this project for a few uninterrupted days…

If I could just hire a cleaning lady…

If I could just get some time to myself…

If I could just get a little more sleep…

If I could just find a pair of matching socks…

I fixate on these ideas with some crazy notion that my life would change if I could just... Oh brother. I am evolved enough to know by now that if it weren’t this list, another would most certainly take its place.

When I spotted this little spring of grass popping up from a tiny crack in our patio, I was intrigued and inspired. If this little speck of life can muster up enough energy to emerge from a nearly impossible place, then what’s to say I can’t do the same?

How would it feel to choose contentedness over desperation? What if my daily efforts were enough (without apology)? Can I put my energy into growing right where I am planted and be happy about it? I hold the hope that I can. If I could just find that angel...

pay it forward

I got to thinking while I was in the shower the other day. Does anyone else do most of their thinking in the shower? Anyway as I was lathering, rinsing, and repeating I got to thinking about photography (big surprise!). Usually my thoughts on photography have to do with myself, and the pending success of this new business venture. What do I love about photography? How does it make me feel? What do I need to accomplish today? But on this day, with loofah in hand, I realized that one of the best things about being a photographer is having the ability to bring joy to other people. It’s a meaningful thing to be able to provide someone with beautiful photographs of a particular moment in their lives. Whether it’s capturing a little girl squeezing her big brother or the tiny hands and feet of a newborn baby, I think that’s what excites me most about photography.

As a graphic designer I have spent a few years working for advertising agencies (stay with me, this is going somewhere). In Chicago I spent a lot of my time designing circular ads for big name retailers, like the ones that come in the Sunday paper. A co-worker once told a story that, as she was walking to the bus stop one morning she saw some garbage blowing toward her along the curb. As it came closer she realized that it was one of the circular ads that she had spent months working so hard to perfect. She had been spending her days producing garbage and now it was staring her in the face. Now, of course, I’m not saying that people who work in advertising have meaningless jobs. But, it’s never feels good to think about the work you do as meaningless or pointless and that is how I sometimes felt working in that particular situation.

So, as I had my moment of realization in the shower, it was nice to think that my interest in photography might impact others in a positive way. I feel like I can contribute to the happiness of others while contributing to my own, which is so important in my book.

But the best part is that there are tons of ways to use photography to make other people happy (and in turn, make yourself happy). You could make a gift for someone using a photo you took. Or take pictures at a party and then mail them to the host later. Also, a lot of animal shelters need volunteers to photograph the animals for their website.

How have you used your photography skills to benefit someone else? Or do you have any other ideas on how we can use photography to "pay it forward"?

Everyday Risk

Everyday in my little urban neighborhood, I see things that totally delight me. Huge gangsta-looking guys carrying their babies in Baby Bjorns. Salvadoran women balancing enormous parcels on their heads. Little kids hanging out of their strollers hoping you'll stop and chat. More than anything else, I wake up every morning convinced I have to find a way to capture my neighborhood and celebrate all the ways it hums and sings like magic.

Doing so, however, requires that I photograph people. People I don't always know. I feel silly snapping away like I'm some kind of professional when I've only been doing this for five minutes! Who am I to interrupt someone's day for an informal photo shoot? The internal dialogue goes on and on. So, off I go on my walks, camera in hand, coming home instead with 200 pictures of flowers, produce and the shape of a house against the cool blue sky. You know how it is. :)

Of course, there's nothing wrong with this. But I also know that my very best work as an artist comes when I go straight to the edge of what feels comfortable and dive right into that uneasy, sticky place where I don't know if I'm being brilliant or totally ridiculous. That place where you have no idea if anything will turn out all right, where the only thing left to do is pour your heart out and let yourself play. Outcomes and foolishness be damned.

Yesterday, the Universe decided I must be ready for a little nudge in the taking-pictures-of-people department, because I walked out of the grocery store straight into a parade of people singing and following a float down the street--believe me, this is not an everyday occurrence! I had no idea what called for so much celebration, but it seemed to be religious in nature, and the crowd of maybe a hundred or more danced into the street, obviously happy. If there was ever a moment where it might be totally okay for a bystander to take a picture, this was it.

I held my camera up tentatively, as people swirled around me. Can I do this? Is this really okay? I wondered, feeling a little bit silly. And then the older woman in the picture above made eye contact with me and smiled kindly as if to say "Yes!" Just to be sure, I asked out loud, and then click.

With her help, I did it.

What risks are calling out to you today? It looks different for each one of us, and no one but you can tell which shot really represents your leap into unknown territory. That's the beauty of growing and developing as a photographer--we each do so at our own pace, facing our own unique challenges. Is there a particular thing you've been longing to try, but need a little nudge to do so? Tell us about it in the comments. Do you have a shot that marks a first for something new to you? Leave us a link below. I'd love to know what risks you're taking, as I forge ahead with my own.

Photo and post courtesy of the newest member of the sisterhood Jen Lemen. We're thilled to welcome her as a regular contributor.