the life you were born to live

first, let me say that I have been in the grip of a nasty cold for a week, which has gone to my chest and made me rather cranky.  In addition to cranky, it's been a time for quiet introspection with feelings of edginess and anxiety thrown into the mix.


I guess when we're sick our energy goes towards healing and has less power to cover up our vulnerability.

I know that this was so just before my fibromyalgia was diagnosed: I had no barrier between the world and my heart.  I did a lot of crying- some tears because I was so very exhausted, and some  because innocent-meaning comments wounded me, for no other reason than my super sensitivity.



We have a book that Brian often refers to-   The Life You Were Born to Live  a guide to finding your life purpose by Dan Millman.  Through using Millman's  sequence of numerical counting in relation to the day you were born, a specific set of numbers is revealed.  These 3 numbers 'shed light on our key issues and potential; they do not describe who we are.'








'I am a 21/3 
 the number on the right of the / being the most significant
3: expression and sensitivity
1: creativity and confidence
2: cooperation and balance

Briefly, what Millman says about 21/3s' life path, is that we are here to work through issues of creativity, emotional expression, balance, and cooperation in support of people or causes, applying our 'energy in positive, constructive ways to teach, uplift, and inspire.'

On the liability side, people with 3 as one of their numbers see and can express the negative side of things.  In a chapter titled The Law of Choices, Millman writes 'The most basic choice we have in life is whether to expand or contract, whether to bring our creative and expressive energies out into the world in positive or negative ways.  No matter what our circumstances, we have the power to choose our directions.'

Do you hear that.....we have a choice here!

Being a 'super-sensitive' 21/3 helps me see and embrace beauty in its many forms.  It also compels me to express what I experience.  I believe that this expressive energy has been the constant and essential component in my art-making through the years.

So too has it influenced my verbal self-expression.  It is important for me to share my authentic feelings honestly and directly.  This frequently gets me into trouble as this truth-telling hasn't yet been honed to have smoother edges.

Millman writes that '3s have a large emotional field.  This extended emotional nervous system of energetic "feelers" reaches out 'into the environment, leaving them wide open and extremely vulnerable to others' emotions.'

 I remember telling my friend David, who was then working as Support Coordinator for Aids Vancouver Island,  'in my next life I want to be born with no social conscience!'   I didn't want to have such an awareness of the difficulties people face. I didn't want to see and feel so much pain.  Well, that thought didn't last long-  within the quarter hour I had reneged on my wish.

Not to feel intensly would be a life from hell.  Not to feel deep compassion when confronted with pain and injustice would be a shallow existence, indeed.

Okay- this very long blog entry is winding down. As is generally the case, it has assumed a life of its own.  You may never have guessed that these words grew from my anxiety around having the first public showing of my photographs.

Sensitive and creative, we 21/3s often present the outward appearance of confidence, while in fact we can be crushed by self-doubt and insecurity, not feeling up to the task.  

So, here I am, wondering and worrying



Are my photographs good enough?  Who do I think I'm fooling?!   blah blah blah

As I was creeping along this thin wire, my friend Laurie sent me this beautiful email.

'I can see being anxious and worried about a show. Yet why? The scenarios you might consider are no doubt endless and how can you know what will unfold? Be here now with your images, have faith in their beauty and the joy you had creating them, and let the wind have its way.'

So, here is an early-bird invitation

      Jackie Saunders-Ritchie
        Patrice Snopkowski

uncommon beauty: photographs

          Sunday,  May 1

     2716 Thompson Avenue
in the studio in the back garden

                       some of these photographs will be in our show

'All great discoveries are made by those whose feelings run ahead of their thinking.'
                                                                              C.H. Pankhurst                        

                   and......... let the wind have it's way

what's important

Brian and I have recently returned from Montreal where we celebrated my great-nephew's Bar Mitzvah.  Mark is the son of my youngest niece, Miriam, and her husband, Michael.

It was an enormous joy to share the pride and love.  The sense of family and belonging.

My sister's three daughters were there and I was aware of my own daughters' absence-  Sat-Sung unable to travel from Israel and for Hilary, the dates conflicting with a major dance performance of our granddaughter in Vancouver.

With the geographical diversity and various commitments of our family, it will take some planning to get us all together in one place.  However, since being in Montreal, I feel the necessity of a fuller connection.  I see the possibility of visiting with some of our family and not waiting for the Big Reunion.

It is important.

Although Brian thinks the following sections are rather trite, I've decided that my blog can be banal and conventional as well as serious and thoughtful.  

It's my page!

So, today, here is what's important to me-  (not in any ascending or descending order of importance)

~ good health ~  family ~  love ~  compassion ~  joy and kindness  ~
~ safety ~  shelter  ~   hope ~   honesty and trust
~ curiosity ~ wonder ~  passion ~  creativity
~ generosity ~  laughter and tears
~ companionship ~ peace
~ stillness and silence ~ sensitivity
~ listening and being listened to~  noticing small things ~ seeing the Big Picture ~ ~curiosity
~ silliness

Here is what's special too-

             morning dew on a spider's web ~  the smells of springtime ~

mist above the ocean's wave ~

birds nesting ~   smooth stones beneath fragile shells ~
hope following disappointment ~  respect from the heart

~moving from fear to understanding ~

                                   ~a cat's soft purr ~




~  looking through my camera's lens

the heart sculpture is at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts

rereading

For several months, I've been tossing quotes and ideas into a mailbox on my computer entitled 'BLOGfromtheothersideofseventy'.  The folder has grown, and today I began reading through the lines and words, seeing if they are still important to me.   Seeing if they have remained relevant. Noticing too if I  have absorbed some of the lessons contained in them.

From the folder:

     **Wabi-Sabi-  – "Much has been written on this Japanese concept, but in a sentence, one might be able to understand it as 'a way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay.' " Altalang.com

I think I'll give myself a 6 on this one.  That's averaging out the 8 on 'finding beauty within the imperfections' part, with the 4 on 'accepting peacefully...' if it relates to my personal cycle of decay, rather than the cycle of plant life..  While I am somewhat more accepting of my body's crankiness, I was not pleased today as I tried crouching to capture a photograph of a purple-hued beetle and landed on my bum on the wet
ground!

      **From the poet, Jane Kenyon (May 23, 1947–April 22, 1995)
"Be a good steward of your gifts. Protect your time. Feed your inner life. Avoid too much noise. Read good books, have good sentences in your ears. Be by yourself as often as you can. Walk. Take the phone off the hook. Work regular hours."

I score higher on this one. Consciously reducing commitments to doing things I don't love, I am freeing myself to spend more time with my camera.  Wandering alone, I hear the silence and breathe in the hidden.

Also, with a more clear awareness, I am seeking those people who nurture me and who accept my style of being.  I'm less likely to count the number of 'likes'  my photographs garner on Facebook and more likely to  contemplate my process in capturing the images.

    **In a fascinating interview with Clayton Cubitt,  photographer, filmmaker and writer on thegreatdiscontent.com  Clayton concludes the interview with this line:

"Be here now, care for people, make beauty, leave it better than you found it. End of story."  

And finally, not from the folder, these words: 
       simplicity  movement  trust.   

I drew these Blessing Cards* this morning from an old Quebec butter bowl where all the blessings convene and rest.  With closed eyes, my fingers held on to these three small cards. These blessings fit perfectly with this new post that I began writing last evening. They fit perfectly too with the path I am trying to follow, with the world I wish to live in.  

I have a long way to go...however, it's a beginning....

                                                   * the blessing cards originate from Findhorn


 

calming traffic ahead

9 pm December 31, 2015

As the clock nudges closer to the New Year, I am feeling pressure to come up  with wise words, some pertinent thoughts and perhaps some lessons gleaned from these past 12 months. And, of course, a lengthy list of personal wishes and goals for the year ahead.

Wait a minute... January 1st is simply a single day following December 31st, truly a random time to spout forth lofty promises to our selves!

My friend, Jean, understands the futility of this, when she tells me that her New Year's resolution for 2016 is the same as the one she holds herself to every year:  'I won't take up smoking this year.'

 Perfect!

That said, I have found myself thinking once again about how I am living my life. As I have become more & more engrossed with my photography, focusing with ever- increasing love upon capturing the world close to me, the doing, the busyness of life seems less relevant. Yes, I still 'need' to make my bed and go shopping for the food I will cook for dinner. Yes, I still wish to volunteer for causes I'm passionate about and take walks with friends who are dear to me.

I am choosing these things consciously, they are not simply filling up my day with the busyness of doing.

The light & the shadow, the mist & the wind, the smell of the sea.  The bend of a branch & the fallen leaf edged in frost. These are seen by the quiet mind.  If I need a reminder, I think of Kierkegaard's words;  'busyness is a decision.'

For many months I have been following the wonderful blog of the photographer David DuChemin (a Victoria native).  In his Christmas Eve post he listed a number of wishes for all of us this coming year.

These are two that I have chosen:
- 'Let it be a year of beautiful light and finding joy and mystery in the shadows.
- And let it be a year of joy in seeing the world and the moments around us, knowing that the brevity of life makes those moments all the more precious. We have this brief, astonishing, beautiful, life, let it be full and honest. May you look back with gratitude and forward with hope, and live right here, in this moment, with both.'

In addition to these, I'm adding three reminders of my own:
- The message on a road sign near South Chesterman beach in Tofino - 'Calming Traffic Ahead'
 - From Brain Pickings,  'Seek out what magnifies the spirit'
- And, finally, a heart-felt reminder to embrace magic

                                               happy new year
                              if you wish, share this post with your friends

wintertime

I know people in the prairies don't consider 7 degrees and overcast as winter weather, however for a Victoria-ite, this is it.  The drab darkness, the promise of rain, and the fact that our 1940s home is drafty and cold. We insulated the basement ceiling 10 years ago, had storm windows installed 2 years later, and finally, had insulation pumped into our exterior walls- though very little could be stuffed in- and still the floor and interior walls feel cold.

Signs of Winter at our house: #1-hand-knit wool socks are de rigueur  #2-Brian wears his long-sleeved cosy fleecy indoors  # 3- baths are an evening necessity, not because we are particularly dirty, but rather so that we can warm up.

Layered in sweaters, I'm invariably too warm when I go to a friend's newer home or condo, and sometimes even when I venture outside.

Brian says it's just 20 days to mid-winter's day, the winter solstice,  after which we begin the slow return to summer.  The optimist.

Me, I worry that I won't be able to take my camera outside in the rain.
And that it's dark by 4 o'clock.
And, as my camera setting is permanently 'no flash', I guess I'll need to read the on-line manual to find out how to change that.

The leaves in their many guises are all but gone, so now I wish for deep, clinging fog and frosty beaches.  Heavy clouds and piercing rays of sunlight. Reflections and shadows. Thankful for warm socks and gum boots and the wonderful photo gloves Jean knit for me. 

Denying the onset of December, we are still printing the leaves of my summertime canna lilies; Patrice patient as I bring to her a USB 'stick' loaded with the images I like most.  From these 40 or 50 we choose 2 or 3 to print.  (this wonderful  photographer buddy has long ago given up asking me to bring only 5 selections!)

I know there are millions of images waiting to be captured. And, I know too, that even if the day starts wet, and my errands seem dull, I should always have my camera with me. Coming back later rarely works.

The amazing frosted leaves I saw on the tennis courts at Stadacona Park had been cleared away the following day. The canna lily bed that I had climbed into one autumn morning had been dug over and the soil simply mounded by the time I returned the next week.

I have learned to take hundreds of photographs when an image excites me.  When I am in awe, almost breathless. When I shout 'WOW'. Or, conversely, when a blanket of calmness envelopes me and I see into my subject.  When I know I am reaching  a deeper place.

So winter, I guess I'm ready.

it's raining....

.....it's pouring

which means no early morning camera-walk through the lanes and into new neighbourhoods.

When the winter rains began last year, I took a series of photographs in our downstairs bathroom; our white linen shower curtain, black and white tiled floor and  reflections in our full-length mirror.  At that time, I was struggling with the exhaustion often associated with  fibro myalgia and my camera was the vehicle that kept me engaged. (29 March 2015  com.mon.place)

Photographing curtains and sofa cushions and walking down our lane and back again was something I could do.

Now, taking pictures is not only what I can do,  it has become something I must do!

I find another, deeper way of seeing when I am with my camera. I am aware of the dirty corner of concrete where fallen leaves collect, the geometric line of an overhanging roof and its shadow, reflections gathered in puddles and in store-front windows.

Yesterday I stayed with a single tree for 45 minutes.  Silently moving and leaning and touching the leaves, I took more than 100 photographs.  I have always believed that I couldn't meditate, but it was only the cushion and the sitting still that I couldn't seem to manage.  No one had said that photography could quiet my mind without the Zafu

David duChemin, self-described  'photographer nomad author', talks about what he considers 'two of the most significant keys to creativity' - curiosity and constraints.

My present constraint involves patterning.   I see patterns everywhere: in the layering of leaves on the huge weeping beech down the street and on a tree's shadow cast upon a painted wall, standing beside its living partner.  I see the designs sunlight casts upon the corrugated siding of a commercial building, and the streaks of light squeezing through the slates of a window blind.



Observing is not enough, however.  I wish my photographs to show not only what I see, but also how I see it.  To be a reflection of who I truly am.

I am learning to notice when I take a series of pictures that, while well-designed and technically good, do not show my inner self.  They feel aloof.  While I don't delete them yet,  it is hardly likely that I will print them.

The rain has stopped.