There is this thing that happens to me and I bet to plenty of other people. Something that knocks you quite off your rhythm, freezes you, and you just stumble to get back into the flow. November 9 did that to me, and I’ve given myself the space and the time to have all the feelings and thoughts and fears and to decide on the actions I want to take to move forward.
In that time, which I’m a little shocked to realize is already coming up on a month, I’ve had to both soften and harden. I’m open to respectful conversations with those who disagree or don’t see my position. But I also have to keep living my life. I have people to be my strongest for, relationships to nurture, an old dog to spoil, a job I love and for which I must be fully present and alert.
I’m doing things to nurture myself, like uncluttering bathroom drawers and cupboards (who needs 10 bottles of 95% empty shampoo or conditioner? bottles of decade-old and rancid oils and creams? make-up from who knows when?), re-finding a (nearly) daily yoga practice, catching up with girlfriends I’ve not seen since spring.
I closed down creatively, too, and I’m working to get back to taking pictures and writing.
This week has me re-inspired, however–I went to a local college to see 17 of my prints framed and installed in common spaces there. Big and bold prints of nature and the city, and I’m just so incredibly honored to have them displayed. And another honor, an article and photos of mine published on a site I greatly admire, a site full of voices and dreamy film photography from both experienced and new photographers (if you have any interest in film photography, I encourage you to cozy up with your computer or tablet and get lost in this site).
It’s a process, this unsticking, thawing. I’m working on it.