She's standing naked

Ok, so I am really NOT a vain person - I promise you that much. I know all too well my flaws and my short-comings. 

EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. (And more...)

But after participating in Susannah Conway's Blogging from the Heart course, I discovered a love of photography. Well, more like an obsession. Ok, let's call it a passion. Something about the BFTH journey awakened my creative spirit and rejuvenated my senses. Especially considering my writer's block and all...

So, I decided to go for it and take Susannah's Photo Meditations: Infusing Your Images With Soul course...Holy shit! What struck me was that sometimes I could actually create something from nothing that I could be somewhat proud of - that a handful of images captured using my crappy iPhone weren't all that bad. Not great, but not THAT bad. At least one in ten I could say, "Yes, I kind of like that one".

And then, about three days in, I began seeing everything in a totally different light. LITERALLY. Seeing, noticing, visualizing - being more aware and present and in the moment. Around every corner I saw images that spoke to me; begging to be photographed; captured in ways I'd never thought of before.

Not that any of my photographs are (or every will be) award winning, mind you. In fact, they're SHITE in comparison with real professionals, and even most amateurs. But still, my photos made me happy and somewhat proud at times. Thank you very much.

"I did that?" 

Out of this grew a hunger to learn more. I yearned to ingest anything and everything I could about the creative medium...but there's just so much, and it's overwhelming to the point where I wanted to give up. 

"Who am I to think that I can do this?"

But, you know what, I am not going to. Give up, that is. I'm loving it. It's healing and therapeutic and something that actually brings a sense of joy to my everyday life. And that is saying something, considering I find little joy or happiness on most days.

Now I am at the point where if I don't take at least a handful of photos everyday, I feel empty and somewhat deflated. Without a camera of some sort at hand, I feel lost.

Ok, so now back to the real reason for this post…the reason it will probably be deleted on the morrow. There was a lesson in this Photo Meditations course that made me pause and think. Really, really think.

"THE BIG REVEAL" 

What??? A self-portrait showing skin??? My own skin??? Nudity even??? Oh, hell no! It truly floored me. And made me feel just a little bit uneasy. Apprehensive…

This is the reason I started out by promising you that I am really not a vain person. Plus, let me also say that I usually despise myself in photographs. However, I realize as a 40+ woman, I need to get the hell over that already. I need to begin to see myself differently. I need to look past the wrinkles and the grey hair and the sagging skin. I need to force myself to recognize that I am worthy. I am somebody. 

I am ME. Bags, sags and all.

So, with a lump in my throat and my stomach in knots, here goes nothing…

Ha, well it's no nude selfie, but it's still breaching my comfort zone…

Maybe next time, kids. MAYBE.

And if you're really that curious about my tentative venture into "selfies", perhaps you should go check out the Instagram link on the right…

:)

Wounds in the mirror waved

Saying goodbye to the desert is usually bittersweet. I don't get there as often as I would like, and in the past six years, it's been my place of refuge. 

This time, not so much. For once, I was ready to leave the desert, as well as leave the memory of the internal wounds that unexpectedly re-opened far, far behind. 

I kept my phone out to document the drive home. I wasn't sure as to why at the time. But now I know. I found a muse. A sea of arms upraised an open toward the sky. I shot the windmills from the speeding car, awed by the storm clouds hovering off in the distance, the sun setting the sky ablaze and the vast nothingness between both mountain ranges. All the while, silently vowing to return in the near future to spend quality time with a quality camera. Maybe even that Polaroid that is en route to my house...

And then my used Polaroid camera bought on eBay arrived the following day, and I shot my very first test photo on expired film (also bought on eBay)...

I have a feeling this quest is going to be a long one. Quite possibly an expensive one as well. And I am going to relish every minute of it! 

Mistakes and all.

14 days and counting

In just 14 days, I'll be taking Bug to his very first concert. But it's not just his "first concert"...

It's eV

I want nothing more than to witness this show with my son. Expose him to the power of this artist and his music; someone who has influenced my life in countless ways through powerful, sometimes emotional lyrics for over twenty years. It's humbling to have the opportunity to share with one's child an experience that is bound to be both moving and life-altering. But most of all, I have the privilege to introduce my son to an amazing community of people - those I am fortunate enough to call my friends - who have really become more of a family than a fan-base.

But Bug is only eight and I wonder how much he will truly appreciate at this very tender (and immature) age.

Regardless, he's still my Bug. Yes, I actually DO call him that in real life, not just in the cyber-world. 

"Bug" grew out of his pet name as a baby: Boo Boo...then Boo Bear...which turned in to Boo...which morphed into Bug-a-Boo...Ugg-A-Bug...and finally Bug. 

Now that he's 8, "Bug" sounds a lot like "Bud" (as in buddy), which is probably a hell of a lot more socially acceptable (and less embarrassing) when I inevitably slip-up in public. 

Even when he's grown out of pet names entirely, and refuses to let me call him anything but his given name, he'll always be my BUG.

And, yes it may be wishful thinking, but considering eV played "Bugs" at the Amsterdam solo show this past summer - there's a shot (albeit slim) at hearing Bugs at Bug's first show. 

Bugs for my Bug. This proud mama would certainly SMILE foEVer if that happened.



The waiting drove me mad

Damn. All that hype and anticipation. Banking on a miracle. Something, anything to make me gasp in wonder, and know deep down that there is more to this life than meets the eye.

Yea so, apparently it was all for nothing. 

I sat there on the patio for over an hour, watching the moon and the stars and the planets, the flashing lights of the airplanes and the bats swooping overhead. I listened to the wind rustling the palm branches and the distant howl of coyotes. While the cool breeze ebbed and flowed, it swirled about me carrying the scent of wet grass; skimming my face and exposed skin, tussling my hair.

I should have just been appreciative of all that in and of itself. And I was for a moment. It just turns out it was a very brief moment. 

Until my mind wandered and began to over-think things. Instead of enjoying the solitude and being grateful just to witness the sights and sounds and smells of the desert, the introspection turned sad and ugly and ultimately depressing. The void inside deepened and I began to question if I will ever find inner-peace. If I'll ever be in a place where it's enough just to be alive. I know every day is a gift and should be treated as such. I think maybe it's because I know this, but never actually feel it, causes me to feel insignificant and ungrateful.

At one point, I actually found myself praying. Well, not exactly praying, more like having a conversation with...SOMETHING. I'm not even sure who or what. And no, not out loud! (I'm not quite that loony.) But internally admitting that I'm not in a good place and asking for help in figuring out why I feel this way. So lost and pathetic. Questioning my life and my path and my worthiness. And then I began to feel frustrated and angry and disappointed. But only with myself and my false expectations. After all that waiting and watching and mental turmoil, I was intellectually and physically exhausted. 

Worst of all, I fell asleep before I got to witness any stars fall from the sky.

I honestly don't know what I was looking for last night. What I had hoped to find or learn or realize. I do know nothing happened - nothing changed. All I have to show for this exercise are a few bug bites, a kink in my neck and a shitty attitude.

Feel the sky blanket you

If ever there was a time in my life when I needed to believe in a Higher Power, it would be now. At a time when I struggle with so many demons, questions, doubts; feeling lost, powerless, hopeless. 

It would be nice to have a little faith to fall back upon at a time like this. 

But I don't. Have faith, that is.

Somehow I lost it somewhere along the way. And I so desperately need to recapture it. So desperately WANT to recapture it. Grab a hold of it and never let it go again.

Tonight the Orionid meteor shower, the result of dust from Halley's Comet hitting Earth's atmosphere as the planet travels through space in its orbit around the sun, is scheduled to be visible from about 11:00 pm pacific time. This is the kind of stuff I read about a long time ago. Many moons ago when I was just an innocent, living a carefree life without heavy problems or the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I have one hour to go. I am determined to make it. I'm beat tired and running on empty. But damned if I am going to miss it. My first meteor shower. My chance to witness a true wonder.

Maybe I am foolish to believe that such an event will have some profound, life-altering impact. Maybe I am grasping at straws. Maybe I want something to believe in so badly that this is just a last ditch effort. A pathetic attempt.

Maybe. But what if?

What if witnessing something extraordinary at a time when it is most needed really does shift my thinking? Watching something powerful and moving, and altogether ethereal can do that, you know. What if it brings with it some glimpse of a Greater Power? And along with that, a renewed sense of awe for Mother Nature. 

Certainty. Assurance. Peace. But I'll settle for just a spark of hope at this point.

What if...

Wouldn't that be fucking great?

I wake up and wait up

Somehow waking at 6:30 on a Saturday isn't so bad when you have this as your view over morning coffee.

La Quinta, California

Bugs in the way I feel about you

My Lil' Bug just turned eight. He has yet to discover girls, so for the time being, I'm the queen bee of his world. 

I know this de facto reign is limited. The sand is moving through the narrow passage of that metaphorical hourglass all too swiftly. And there is no way for me to freeze it.  

But I can capture it. 

Both literally and figuratively. I have the power to create something as a memento of a time in our lives when life was simple. 

Uncomplicated. 
Secure. 
Safe. 
Sheltered.

For him, anyways.

Someday soon I won't be the one he seeks out for comfort. I won't be able to smooth back his bangs and rub his forehead when he has a bad dream. I won't be the one he turns to when life gets complex and confusing. As he grows and changes, I'll be needed less and less. 

I know this. I accept it. Yet all the same, I dread the day when I won't be his Mama. Or even his Mommy. 

I'll simply be MOM. 

But for the time being, I'll hold onto this age of innocence with the fierceness of a lioness, for I know firsthand how easily the bond between mother and child can erode. I'll cherish every butterfly kiss and spontaneous giggle fit. I'll remember dancing around the living room to a certain band with wild abandon. I'll smile at the memory of off-tune sing alongs in the car, and the times we didn't hit mute fast enough when eV drops an F-bomb. 

I'll smile. Just smile. Because Bug makes me smile. 

forEVer.