I’ve started taking a lot more photos with my phone than I used to take. I still shoot with my larger camera(s), but I’ve enjoyed the simplicity of using my phone: I don’t have to “pack” it up, I don’t have to lug it around, I don’t have to worry about lenses (though I do have little ones I can put on my phone). When I take photos with my phone, I get taken back to the basic idea of capturing a moment, rather than worrying so much about things like fstop and shutter speed. It’s kind of liberating! Now, don’t get me wrong, I love being able to control those elements and really create an image that looks as I’d mentally envisioned it, or have a more powerful tool so that I don’t miss a shot because of variable available light, etc. But in taking and editing a daily photo with my phone, I’ve also reminded myself that with a few basic tools, no matter how I shift those around (camera, photoshop, lightroom, scanner, iphoto…. or my phone and some apps) I can create art that sings of the world around me, who I am, and what I’m doing and feeling.
I can look back through all the photos I took in the past month (regardless of capture device) and see a story that tells all those things for me (with the help of my memories, of course). Here’s what the story of my life and thoughts in February looks like when I do that.
A simplification of huge, life bending concepts when applied daily:
big things are little.
little things are big.
it’s up to you how much credence and attention you give to any of them.
Some days you feel really small, and defeated, but you know (from experience and faith and hope and dreams that you can’t give up on) that love will help you, that love is greater than any other thing in your life that might try to distract or overpower. And so, before your journey ends, long long before, you know you should always seek it, no matter how discouraged you may be about that fight at any given moment.
I think that a lot of my life has been spent looking for perfect love. I could hypothesize about why that is (and often do) but the main issue is that it’s non-existent. There’s no scale or grade for love; no love is greater or lesser than any other. There are moments when I check the tally marks in my heart and count up all the time I’ve wasted wishing for someone who “wouldn’t hurt me that way” or someone who “really knows me,” and if I think of these as tears in a bucket, the weight feels crushing and regretful.
But I don’t want to think of this all as wasted time, rather, it’s been a journey of learning. It may have taken a long damn time, but I’m finally realizing this, and it feels really big, bigger than that bucket of tears.
All (any, every) love is a gift.
Love is bright and shiny and scarred and broken, it has wings or scales or feathers or skin, it is strong and it is weak, it is straight on or sometimes crooked or angled, it is first and second and third and fourth chances, it is falling down and getting up, it is crawling and walking and for damn sure it is flying. But it’s all love. And love is a gift. Hell, love looks funny sometimes, but it’s there all the time.
You have to learn to see it right in front of you, don’t parse it or weight it, and then take it without judgement.Read More»
This is a jumping spider. He is definitely furry. In fact, he’s totally sporting kind of a Don Kingesque look.
He makes a great date on a random afternoon. Because really, what would you rather have in your face at any given time than a plump, furry thing that is prone to jumping this way and that?
(That’s what she said?)
He is bold… daring. Challenging me. Coming towards the camera and holding out his front legs, as if to say, “I am not intimidated by your sexy smile and your hot rack. (shut up, he knows where it’s at) Your sensuous, womanly curves do not make me feel insecure. I am more man than you have ever met. Now show me your egg sack.”
But I’m all, “Look, dude, inter-species flirting is really distasteful, and I won’t have that on my blogsite, so you’re going to have to take your rude comments somewhere else. Furthermore, my egg sack is far too demanding for the likes of you. You’d never do it justice. Now pose for me, bitch.”
And then he just shrugs and sits there, thinking it over.
I stand my ground. In fact, I tap my toe a little, with a slight grinding motion after the tap.
Finally he just gives in and vogues his furry, spidery little heart out.
Because, really, he knows I can just step on him and call it a day. He’s smart like that, so he gives me what I want before I move on.
Let this be a lesson. While I might not show you my egg sack no matter how artfully you woo me, if you get in position when I tell you to, I won’t step on your furry, little head.
(PS: This is clearly a joke, because everyone knows I’m a shameless whore and will show my egg sack to anybody.)