Early Saturday morning, sunshine reached tentatively through the blinds. Unable to light the room, it created soft patterns at the window that begged to be shot in black and white.Hopefully, the sun will regain her strength and reappear consistently.
Last summer, I shot this photo near Boston, Massachusetts, just before Independence Day. I think I intended saving it for the next Fourth of July, but the tragic events of this week have me reflecting on our strengths and it feels appropriate today. To be able to look at fear and respond with humanity and action is what this flag symbolizes to me. There is pain, suffering and the realization that each of us as an individual can choose to do right by others rather than wringing our hands and asking “Why us?” . This is the measure of who we are as a people and a country. All those that took action, offered help in what ever way they could, and made a difference , set the example. We are a nation of individuals who can accomplish so much when we act rather than complain to and about each other. Those that cause suffering need not be understood, just denounced and recognized as inhuman. For each negative act, a positive one will take away its power. As a people, we still have decisions to make and a course to set .
A sunny Friday before Christmas in Charleston, South Carolina. The wind blustered and howled down the crowded streets.The raw air from the waterfront forced us to don scarves and gloves. As we were propelled along the streets , I continued to people watch. On the curb, more into traffic than not, this painter stood silently engrossed in his work. I couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder and then across the street to his view. While the trees were bare, his trees were full of life and color. I enjoyed his purposeful approach, focused on his task and oblivious to those that fanned out around him. There were so many parts of his story that I’d never know. Was the painting a gift that he ached to finish before the holiday? Did he only have a small, precious bit of free time to do what he loved? Were the spring leaves a sign of better days to come? I left thinking how lucky he was to be able to focus and follow through on a creative task, and how lucky I was to feel this breath of spring.
On days or weeks when there are nagging worries, it’s so easy to embrace the negative. Strength in numbers, misery loves company, or whatever the appropriate phrase, I find myself submitting as well. It’s what I imagine drowning to be like, being pulled deeper downward and seeing darkness, feeling cold , and in my case craving chocolate or any form of sugar.Like any other vice, once you’re hooked, it’s so difficult to break that hold. People commiserate and support your feelings. You begin to believe you have been wronged, cosmically or intentionally.You see only your point of view and your Greek chorus of naysayers become backup singers.Giving up that level of comfort is difficult, but no more so than losing the first twenty pounds or only shopping when you need something.Finding a substitute to provide comfort is worth the search.For me it’s sunshine. Like plants, I tend to lean into the sun. Literally. In my classroom at lunch, you may find my chair pulled up to the window so I can recharge.At home, I open blinds, drapes, curtains, any barriers to the light. Maybe I was a cat in a former life, but it’s where I choose to be. When I shot this photo, the sun on the other side of the pond beckoned the trees and they obviously are reaching out toward the light. It’s my best practice against believing I can be defeated by those unidentified powers that be when they choose to intrude into my daily life for no good reason. The wind in the leaves and birdsongs are more affirming that the sounds of wallowing .
There are those weeks or months that are so dark in feeling, be it dismal weather or depths of mood. This photo reminds me that there’s light up ahead. I can almost feel the warmth on my shoulders and the lightness finds an entry into my soul.
appropriatelyfrayed 