Well, friends, it’s Monday again. And I have to admit, I’m not feeling very inspired. In the past three days alone I lost my wallet and felt a pain so intensely I went to the hospital. Quite inspiring.
I don’t even have an image to share with you today. I haven’t even opened the blinds in front of the windows of my room in days– my big, beautiful, vast windows. I know there’s light outside but it feels overwhelming.
I have so many beautiful, awe-inspiring photographs (or, at least I believe so) to share with you, but for some reason… I haven’t. If I knew why, well, I’d find some way to overcome it and share them with you, of course. But for now, they’re locked in the chest of Potential, along with the list of “things-i-have-to-do” and “people-i-have-to-talk-to.” I’m learning that sometimes, in order to be a lifestyle photographer/documentiarian, you have to plan for things to unfold a certain way. You execute your vision, direct, then let it unfold. Planning a styled shoot is taking me from being the fly on the wall to being the woman of the show, and I’m still stepping into that role, even now in Phase 1. Well, to be honest, being a photographer or much of anything lately has been more like seeing a pair of boots on the floor that I need to step into, but I’m just sitting on the couch, clutching the edges of my seat and hoping I don’t fall. While sitting on the couch.
My life, as of late.
Today, I am breathing. I took a breath as I wrote that last sentence. A simple breath. Something so minute–so seemingly insignificant–but when you think about it, aren’t our lives a collection of breaths? Today I can be inspired by the little things: my breath, my fingers as I type this letter to you, leftover pasta from a dinner I so carefully made yesterday. Simple reminders that Yes, I’m still here and I’m still alive. Even if I’m clutching the corners of the couch. Even if I had the courage to move to the floor (Because that’s where the boots are, of course) but now I’m sitting on the ground with my life two inches away from me, clutching my knees to my chest.
I’m alive. You’re alive.
And for me, today, that will have to be enough.