A Post With No Pictures

Ever noticed how violent some photography words are? Like capture, frame, shoot?

Don’t get me wrong. Photography is one of my hobbies, and I like composing a good image and goggling at beautiful galleries as much as the next person. Maybe even more.

But especially in this age of social media, of iPhones and Instagram, I think photography can be overdone.

This week has been really busy for me. Besides being a writer who has less than 100 days until the publication of her second book (eep!), I also work as an editor and an English tutor. All of these jobs were chugging away at full blast this week, leaving me pretty tired.

Sometimes you have to choose between taking pictures and enjoying experiences–between looking happy and being happy. Sometimes you just don’t have the time or energy to do both.

This week, I chose being happy. So this post has no pictures. There are no photographs of the moments of rest and smiles I found this week. Because I was busy enjoying them.

Like a melty, gooey chocolate chip cookie in the afternoon.

Or the moves I make when I’m enjoying the stretchiness of yoga pants.

Like my first pumpkin spice latte of the season.

Or a floor full of beautiful pictures as I sit planning with my illustrator.

Like a well-placed comma finding its way into a manuscript.

Or a friend who watches in amazement at the melding colors of M&Ms melting into a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

We can spend so much time trying to capture, frame, shoot our moments, forever preserving them like scientific specimens in formaldehyde, that sometimes we–I, at least–forget to actually live them, enjoy them.

And sometimes it’s nice to take a break from the shutter button for exactly that purpose.

Hobbies vs. Passion

Singing is one of my hobbies.

From an early age, I’d wander around the house singing—sometimes my favorite Disney hits; sometimes tunes of my own making. A Christmas pageant director once told me I had perfect pitch. I took a few voice lessons and sang on my church’s praise team as a teenager. I even ended up in my college’s women’s choir.

When I was younger, I thought I wanted to make this dream into a career. I thought I wanted to be a singer.

But today it’s a hobby.

I still absolutely enjoy singing (especially when the Frozen soundtrack comes on in my car).

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But I knew singing wasn’t my passion when I realized I didn’t want to work at it. Glittering stardom and singing my heart out for a packed arena of fans sounded okay. But music theory classes? Hours spent in a practice room?

Ick. It would kill the joy of singing for me.

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Photography is another hobby of mine. My family got our first point-and-shoot digital camera in 2004, and almost immediately my finger was glued to the shutter button. I’d never enjoyed analog photography, because when my packet of prints would come back after 2 weeks, half the shots were invariably blurred or featured my finger across the lens—and by then, of course, it was too late to fix them.

With the help of the digital LCD screen, though, I began to play with composition, lighting, and color—knowing I could delete the hundreds of bloopers without cost or frustration. I learned a few things from friends and from books, and for high school graduation my mom upgraded me to a camera with many more capabilities. I did photo shoots for friends and family and even a few paid gigs. I thought about becoming a photographer.

But the fact was—

I didn’t want to work at it.

I may still be the family’s designated cameraperson, and taking pictures with friends is still one of my favorite pastimes. Unless otherwise credited, all the images on this blog are mine, and I’m glad I can make them decent.

But classes and books on color theory and darkroom technique? Lugging around loads of equipment and small-talking about white balance and f-stops?

No thank you.

That kind of work would take the joy out of photography for me.

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Storytelling is my passion.

I didn’t always know that. There was a time when I thought writing was my absolute nemesis.

But with some tastes of success, some writerly friends, and some encouraging teachers, I began to feel like I could be good at writing. I began to like it. Suddenly, around age 14, I realized I loved it.

At first, I didn’t want to work at it. I wanted my first drafts to be magically perfect (hey, wouldn’t that be nice?).

But as my confidence grew, so did my willingness to edit, to accept critique. I took classes, formed writing groups with other teens. I read books that inspired me. And soon it became evident.

Writing wasn’t just a hobby. It’s my passion—my calling—my vocation.

And when you find that one consuming passion, you’re willing to work for it. Even if it means cutting up a whole story with scissors, shuffling the pieces around, and rewriting.

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“I want to be a writer!”

I hear that a lot.

In elementary schoolers, I encourage it. A dream is something that can fuel you, give you direction. And I’m biased, but I think writing is a wonderful dream.

For older students and adults, though, I add a few words of caution:

Know the difference between your hobbies and your passion.

Not that I don’t want people to become writers. It’s a path filled with beauty, energy, and excitement. I wouldn’t choose any other.

But the road is also paved with risk, anxiety, isolation, and sacrifice.

And to stay the course without losing your joy, writing has to be your passion, not just a hobby.

 

Have you found your passion? What other hobbies did you dream of making into careers?

 

Blogiversary #2

I love fall. The student in me thinks of September, not January, as the beginning of the year. As the weather gets cooler, I get an almost Pavlovian excitement for office supplies, pumpkin spice lattes, and new beginnings.

Photo credit: Jason A. Samfield

But what almost took me by surprise is that this approaching fall season also marks my second blogiversary. I went to write this week’s blog post and realized it’ll be two years on Sunday! Which prompts a bit of reflection.

It’s a little harder to track this year’s progress than it was last year. I do know that I’ve published a total of 95 posts and accumulated nearly 20,000 page views since starting this blog in 2011 (numbers which thrill, startle, and humble me by turns). Sometimes numbers help me step back and get some perspective on the small routines I perform regularly.

This year I have branched out to share a wider variety of art forms, including poetry, photography, and excerpts from my novel-in-progress.

Speaking of which, that novel is in its 4th (and hopefully final) draft! Sometimes not losing vision in the last stage is the hardest part. I’m both eager and nervous to set out on the road to publication.

I struck the words “recent college graduate” from my Blogger profile. Now that I’m 2+ years out of academia, I think I’m really beginning to consider myself a working adult.

Which is beginning to make sense, now that my weeks are full with 15 tutoring students, regular freelance editing projects, novel revisions, and some very dear relationships that make my life full and sweet. Sometimes living has been so sweet that I’ve clean forgotten about blogging (that’s why there’s no December under the 2012 tab).

I had a chance to share my life story with some peers a few weeks ago and it gave me a chance to realize what this blog has done for me. Not only has it kept my writing muscles limber in busy times when other writing projects have gone into hibernation, but it’s been cathartic for me as well. Sometimes it’s easier to blurt out the truth in a public forum (especially online) than it is to be honest with your close friends and family.

Here I’ve reached new levels of honesty as I’ve broached subjects like vulnerability, loss, and lament poetry. What’s even better is that some of you have come to me and shared that my halting admissions of hurt, confusion, and failure have made you feel freer to admit your own struggles. And that makes it worth it.

It’s also been joyful to celebrate new beginnings throughout the year, noticing small magic, overflowing like popcorn, and cooing over adorable hedgehogs. It’s wonderful to celebrate fullness and joy. I think honesty about the empty and the hard makes this part even sweeter.

And with that, I commence celebrating blogiversary #2. No pumpkin spice lattes in my local Starbucks yet, but I’m waiting. Oh yes, I’m waiting.

Photo credit: brina_head


In the meanwhile, let this changing season give you a chance to reflect. What milestones are you celebrating? What are you looking forward to this school year? 

Canyons

Canyons are a bad idea.

As my family and I roadtripped around the American Southwest at the end of May, we saw a lot of them. They’re fissures in the earth, weird yawning abysses. I thought of Dante’s Inferno or C.S. Lewis’s The Great Divorce. In fact, it looks like I wasn’t the only one:

A sign from the Grand Canyon shuttle route

Canyon hiking is an especially bad idea. Besides the abnormal elevation at the rim, the increasing temperature as you descend, the arid landscape that sucks out your body moisture, the sheer drops at every turn, the risk of poisonous snakes and scorpions, possible claustrophobia, and rapidly changing weather conditions, you have to deal with this fact:

Down is optional, up is mandatory

Unlike with mountain hiking, in a canyon you hike downhill first, while you’re fresh. But you’d better hike to only about 1/3 of your energy–because then it’s twice as hard to come back up. When you’re already tired.

So canyon hiking is a really bad idea.

But…

…if we never took risks…

…if we never ran with an idea that might fail…

…if we never did anything just a little bit crazy…

…we’d miss out on this.

Bryce Canyon, Utah

And this.

Grand Canyon, Arizona

And this.

Antelope Canyon, Arizona

Sometimes risks aren’t worth the payoff. And of course you have to plan for them accordingly. But sometimes…maybe unexpectedly…risks can reveal life’s beauty.

Ever taken a risk that made you glad you did? 

Inner Beauty Photo Shoot

Yesterday I had the privilege of photographing two lovely young women, both of whom recently graduated from college. (It’s that time of year when it seems like everyone is transitioning from one life stage to another!)

Kristin has a smile that could dazzle the socks off of you. She’s also got this incredible long blonde Rapunzel hair (not quite 70 feet long yet, but getting there).

Jasmine has these stunning eyes that kind of change color to match whatever shade of blue she’s wearing. And a great sense of style. I mean, seriously.

What I enjoy most about these ladies, though, is their personality and sense of adventure. I always enjoy interacting with women who exemplify a sense of inner beauty. You can’t always catch that sense of sincerity on camera, but occasionally it comes out. For instance, Kristin wasn’t afraid to play on the corkscrew fixture at the playground. No, sirree.

And Jasmine cleverly repurposed that pink scarf she’s wearing from another piece of clothing. You can’t see it in this shot, but she then repurposed it again as a dance ribbon.

Loveliest of all is the friendship between these two, which I’ve been blessed to participate in over the many years we’ve known each other.

Happy graduation, Kristin and Jasmine! Here’s to two young women who are beautiful, both on the inside and outside!

Next week I’ll be starting a series based on my family’s roadtrip around the American Southwest. Be sure to check back in for some crazy pictures, stories, and traveler tips! 

Life

March is here, and my camera and I see the world returning to life in small and miraculous ways. 

In little leaves whose pale flush of chlorophyll hasn’t fully waxed to green…

…buds so fresh out of the branch that they’re still sticky…

 …delicate lily flowers like drooping bells, blooming from sleeping underground bulbs…

…tiny rose leaves still backed with soft, silvery hairs… 

…plum trees blushing into plumes of cotton candy, with thousands of fingernail-sized pink blossoms opening at the same time…
See! The winter is past; 
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth; 
the season of singing has come.

Beauty from Storm

Yesterday morning arrived in gusty, wet glory.

When I lived in Seattle, waking up to gray morning after gray morning, nothing but sunshine seemed beautiful. But here, where sunshine is the norm, a really stormy day almost takes my breath away with its power and awe-full majesty. Sheets of rain cascade and collide. Leaves–mauve and orange and gold–scatter like trails of magic, effortlessly puffed down the street. Delicate tree branches bend and sway, threatening to snap at every moment in their reckless dance. It is inspiring as well as terrifying to watch.

But what struck me most was what was left in the wake of the wind and rain. When the loud forces of destruction quieted, I went tromping around with my camera and galoshes, noticing the tiny, quirky miracles left behind.

Things like mossy green baby-tears springing up between paving stones, the soft blooming to surround and overcome the hard.

Or the fact that almost all the maple leaves were stuck face-down to the sidewalk, leaving their stems sticking straight up into the air like the tails of curious puppies. 

What I thought was most interesting of all, though, was the sight of our lawn. I looked out the window and noticed that the helter-skelter whipping and tearing of the storm-force had mingled dead autumn leaves with flowers from our bougainvillea vine.

Life mingled with death, the shedding of a tree’s old coat beside pink crepe butterfly-delicate petals. The dying of the old year beside the flowering of the new. Autumn and spring scattered side-by-side. It made me think of Tchaikovsky’s Dance of the Flowers. 

It also made me think that even November storms that make the house creak, that strip the trees of all their finery, that force in bare branches and winter before I’m quite ready for them, can leave beauty behind them as well. Gales can even bring the beauty, sometimes: the same violent  winds that destroy can scatter the lawn with flowers.

Maybe–perhaps even this–the beauty wouldn’t come without the storm.

First Rain

On Wednesday morning, September 5th, it rained.

All right, laugh, my friends in the Pacific Northwest. Here in California, it doesn’t just rain all the time. It isn’t something to be taken for granted. And not just if you work for the Water Department.

This morning’s rain only lasted a few minutes, just barely wet the ground, but it was special. Have you ever really watched it rain before? It’s magical.

It’s the first silver puddles of the season.

It’s dusty dribbles on Baby’s windshield that make me glad I didn’t wash her yesterday.

It’s dark thunderheads gilded with bright edges by a sun that’s there, but that you can’t see.

It’s sharp contrasts in the sky and wet asphalt on the ground.

It’s a fine veil sewn all over with silver stitches.

It’s an eager rustle, like the crinkle of a safe blanket coming up to your chin, like the whisper of a fairy godmother’s skirts.

It’s a soft, growing smell, a smell of motion and of rising, a halfway dusty smell, like the pages of an old book.

And it’s a cool breeze blowing through your house, straight through open windows, sweeping away the stagnant heat of a long, hot summer. It’s ushering in something new, an anticipation of what may be.


Fall is just around the corner! What do you look forward to about this new season?


Snapshots of Cambridge

Two years ago this week, I was in Cambridge, England. As an American college student, watching my British counterparts study, ride their bicycles to class, and play cricket at the park, I almost felt like I was looking in a distorted mirror. But after 9 days of living, walking, and studying in this medieval college town, it almost began to feel like native habitat. I can’t give you a Lonely Planet guidebook description. So I’ll just share a series of snapshots that characterize the journey there. 
Two structures characterize Cambridge: the tall, Gothic spires of the colleges and cathedrals…and the spokes of bicycle wheels. The medieval streets make driving a health hazard, not to mention an insurance nightmare. So everyone bikes. Little baskets and all. Even in skirts. Knowing my world-class klutz skills, I decided to forgo this traditional mode of transportation and let my good ol’ feet carry me….

…to every bookstore in sight. The bookstores in Cambridge are absolutely world-class. There are some fine new shops–Heffer’s and Waterstone’s, not to mention the home office of Cambridge University Press. But better still are the used and antiquarian bookstores. “Old books” in the U.S. reach maybe 50, 60, even 100 years old. But when the Brits say “antiquarian,” they mean it. I found a crumbling copy of The Pilgrim’s Progress from the early 1800s in a discount bin because the spine cover was falling off. The early 1800s! One of these days I’d like to about bookbinding and fix it up. If you’re ever in Cambridge, go check out G. David Booksellers (where I drooled at a two-volume leather-bound set of Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary that cost 2500 pounds) and The Haunted Bookshop (absolutely dripping charm, with a head-bumping spiral staircase!) 

The May flowers in Cambridge are also jaw-dropping. Many of them I had no names for, but I did recognize fields of many-colored tulips and walls covered with wisteria, like this one. 

When the Cambridge boys aren’t riding their bicycles to class, they make a little extra pocket money by punting: pushing tourists down the shallow river using flat-bottomed boats and ten-foot poles. They expertly steer their passengers down the river, pointing out all the sights along the way. Our group decided to be economical and do the punting ourselves. Our group was also 90% female. I gave tried punting for about 10 minutes before almost falling in and calling it quits. Those poles are a lot heavier than they look!  
Possibly the funniest moment in Cambridge: a mother duck and her brood of ducklings decided to cross the street, plunging headlong into traffic. Shopkeepers and pedestrians from both sides of the road darted after them, stopping traffic to “make way for ducklings.” It was rather adorable: a whole street of cars and people frozen in motion as a little family of ducks waddled across the road.

Most fabulous teatime: The Orchard. About three miles (on foot) outside of Cambridge, we sipped Lady Grey tea and nibbled scones and clotted cream at outdoor picnic tables under trees frosted with apple blossoms. The sun even decided to grace us with her presence for part of the afternoon. Sweaters came off; some of our group closed their eyes and tanned; some opened books of poetry; some blew streams of bubbles from plastic wands into the air.  

And last, but not least, the King’s College Chapel choir. We attended services at King’s one Sunday morning under the grand fan ceiling, sitting on carved wooden benches with a Rubens painting at the far end of the nave. And then the boys’ choir began to sing. If I hadn’t been looking right at them, I would have sworn it was an adult choir including both men and women. But listen to them! Surrounded by candles in that vast Gothic space, they sound like a choir of angels.

This concludes Episode Three of our Armchair Travel Guide to Britain. Have you been to Cambridge? England? Did you have experiences that you positively have to share? 

Raindrops on Roses

Last week, it rained almost all week. 
When I was living in Seattle, the rain frustrated me. It was constant. All I could think about were wet socks, frizzy hair, cold fingers, dirty puddles, indoor mold. 
Now that I’m back in California, where showers are balanced with sunshine, it’s easier for me to be thankful for the rain. Now I go out in my rain boots with my camera, enjoying the beauty that the rain brings, especially to the rose garden. I’ve always loved taking close-ups of dew-studded roses. I hope you enjoy the results!

They’re little miracles, reminders of the beauty brought even by hardship, signs of joy even in the rain. They remind me of the song from The Sound of Music:

“Raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens…

 “bright copper kettles, and warm woolen mittens…

“brown paper packages, tied up with string…

“these are a few of my favorite things!”

Happy Monday! What’s beautiful in your world today?