Ordinary People?

I was thinking recently about reading the newspaper. My mom and dad got a newspaper every day. I started reading it at a young age. At first just the comics, then I moved on to the special kid edition they had once  a week. I started reading the entire paper everyday when I was about 14. I can still see the headlines describing the more momentous events.

When a pope died unexpectedly.

When a beauty queen was killed by her jealous estranged husband.

When John Lennon was murdered.

The newspaper was an important part of my teenage life. One of my favorite parts of reading the paper were the long pieces, usually printed each week in the Sunday paper. They would often focus on everyday people, accompanied by photographs. I quite enjoyed studying those. None were very spectacular but it was so intriguing to be able to get a glimpse into the lives of strangers. Posed in their homes, or at work, or a play. They seemed so real. Ordinary yet interesting and worthwhile. I think the world we live in now is very dismissive of the ordinary life. It's not considered exciting or important enough, so we turn to celebrities or reality tv to give us a glimpse into what is supposedly a more exciting way to live. But is it really?

Today I decided to take an ordinary photo of myself in my ordinary house in the style I remember from the newspaper, with the usual clutter and dust. I bought a new skirt that I really like, so I put that on. This picture may look average and maybe even boring to the casual viewer but I see something else.

I see the ladder that my husband built with his own two hands. I see the piano that two of my children have played music on. I see pictures on the walls that we chose to put there because they moved us in some way. I see a hat my husband wore to a fabulous party he put on to celebrate my 50th birthday in exactly the way I requested. I see bits and pieces of our lives amongst the dust and clutter.

Our ordinary lives. Our beautiful ordinary lives. I see the sacred in that every single day. I am grateful for that every single day. We are alive and isn't that something exciting and worthwhile?
I think it is. I know it is.

Red

So, I am starting to think it's kind of frowned upon to say we like ourselves. We (women) are generally lousy with compliments. When someone tells us we look nice, or we've done something interesting, or we're smart, or lucky, or talented, or whatever, we're famous for the downplay. There's always a "but." We don't want to take credit, even when we know inside it's all us.

Oh, I'm as guilty as the rest of us.

But let's experiment with saying no.

Let's put on red lipstick (or no lipstick, or whatever makes us feel awesome) and say yes, YES, we are beautiful, smart, fascinating, valid, cool, funky, strong. At whatever age. No buts.

I will say boldly that I really love this photo. I think it is beautiful and creative. I could even say the same thing about myself. 

Into the Wild

I was out at the game preserve last night. It is a favorite spot for both Lisa and me. Wide open spaces, animals and all their sounds, plants, water, dirt, and much more. A beautiful place to open your eyes and really see. We have been there on calm days, warm days, very cold days, we don't care.

Last night I went there with my son and my husband. The wind was whipping everywhere, we saw birds struggling to fly against it. My hair kept hitting me in the face, even after I put my son's hat on. The wind was relentless and I kept thinking, nothing can stop this wind. It is free. It is wild. It is untamable.

Words I don't find to describe myself at all. I'd like them to. Very much. But I see myself as quiet, a rule follower, a good girl.

As we were heading back to the car my husband mentioned how photography has brought out a bolder side to me. He's impressed with all the places I've gone with my camera, how adventurous I've become in just the past year or so. I let that sink in and I saw myself in a different way. I thought about the photographs I had just taken. The ones I kept taking even after I started to get tired.
I let the wind hit me last night and I felt it in my bones. It was cold and uncomfortable but I held my own against it.

I am more than the limits I place on myself.

I am free.

I am wild.

I am untamable.

I am anything I choose to be.

Shadowy Amazon-woman

I'm in love with this place, a 5,000-some acre marsh, nature preserve and game area. I can't get enough of it, and I have a million photos from here and I'm not even going to try to curb my enthusiasm for going here, photographing here, hiking here, etc. Yes, my photo from last week is from here, and maybe one or two before that. I bet many more will be from here, too.

But I do love these long shadows, and how when cast upon this long road they make me look like a shadowy Amazon woman, tall and powerful. And I can't bear to be inside right now when the weather is changing and the days are lengthening and things are sprouting.

Worry and the Eye

For the past two weeks, I have had some issues with my left eye. Corneal abrasion one week, followed by a nasty eye infection this week. I wouldn't say I have been in a lot of pain, but I am constantly aware that something is wrong with my eye. Sometimes it's very watery, or irritated, or my vision is blurry. I had a retinal tear 11 years ago in that same eye that had to be fixed with surgery. I have irrational fears that I will need surgery again, or that I will lose my sight in that eye. Logically I know that whatever it is can most likely be fixed. My ophthalmologist does not seem overly concerned.

But I am.

I am normally not a worrier. I am an avid believer in the phrase "Worrying is like praying for what you don't want." But this week I have let myself worry and cry and worry some more. I woke up worried this morning because after two days of antibiotic drops this eye of mine is still looking and feeling terrible.

My aim today was to take a very overexposed photo of myself. Hide my wrinkles and pores so I could at least maybe think I looked good. But I didn't smile in any of them. I had the LCD screen on my camera flipped so I could compose these shots and all I could see was the difference in my two eyes. One bright and wide open, the other swollen and watery. I wish I could say this made me have some profound realization that everything will turn out okay, but it didn't.

Sometimes it's just not that easy.

I honestly hope that when I post my next self-portrait and I look back on this one it will be with two clear eyes. Hope over worry. Faith over fear.

Next week will be better.

Hello again, fitness

I used to be fit. Exercise was a big priority in my life and I made space for it, mentally and physically, almost every day. I considered myself a runner first and foremost, and after that a cyclist, kayaker, paddle boarder, and general fitness enthusiast. Up until the last several years, that is, when I started to make less and less space for running, and then everything else fitness kind of followed.

There are lots of reasons for my lapse, none of them particularly good or even that make much sense. But after years of being fit, I got unfit. Up until the last two months. Since then I've been making it a daily priority again. And it feels fantastic, both mentally and physically.

I hiked the marsh today for hours with my friend Karen. I am so happy outside, and so happy to be back on the journey to fitness. It feels good, and it feels like home--like the me I started to lose track of for a while.

The Image Tells the Story?

This is an idea that was not fully fleshed out. To be honest, I just did not know what to do for this week. So I had my husband dig out an old window from the basement, I sprayed water on it and held it up in front of my face. I like the effect. I think it's an interesting photograph. Aside from that though, what am I saying about myself this week?

Maybe sometimes the image stands alone. I think that's really ok. Better than ok.

PS We're out of nail polish remover.

A mostly very good day

This week was frantic, but since I had to take a head shot of this kid (above, on right) for her student ID, I said in payment she would have to be in my self portrait for the week. I'm glad she obliged.

Today was Easter and while we aren't religious, we enjoyed the day with said kid, her boyfriend, and her brother. We cooked too complicated and too much and it was all really good. I made carrot cupcakes to top it all off. Everybody was in good spirits, which to me makes for an excellent day.

But before anybody arrived today, I kicked the coffee table, which isn't a coffee table at all but a very large antique cedar chest. I kicked it hard enough to see stars and wonder if I was going to throw up. So for the rest of the day my baby toe was beginning its transition to the swollen, purple-red, rather painful appendage it is tonight as I sit, finally, and post this. Not that the toe stuff has anything to do with this self portrait. But here I am, with my daughter who willingly wraps her arms around me again after a couple of rough years, and for that I am deeply, overwhelmingly grateful.