Sandstorms

It's strange to see something you've never seen before.  Most of us have been around long enough that we have experienced a lot of this planet.  Sure, there are many places I have never been before.  Something I'm slowly but surely rectifying.  But it is rare for me to think, "Huh, I've NEVER seen this." 

About a week ago I experienced my first full blown sandstorm.  We're talking zero visibility, lightening, thunder, and high winds.  It was awe inspiring and beautiful and terrible all at once.  

It safe to say that I love moody scenery.  I love the drama and the unusual nature of it.  I love fog.  How it envelopes you.  Consumes you.  This had the same mystery to it but was harsher.  The sand danced and shifted until you were unsure if it would come in blankets or waves.  Or would it be completely gone in half a mile.  There was also just a sheer force to it.  While fog creeps, sand dares you to come out and face it. 

I was itching to have a model with me.  Some woman in a long flowing dress.  Some brave soul to go out and be daring and play.  However, we were just rolling through.  It's on my shot list though and I feel privileged to be able to mark something off my list that I hadn't ever seen or experienced before.

Facing Your Fears

I am not a great lover of heights.  I don't mind them but I don't go out of my way to find them.  Just like snakes.  So when Zach's cousin said she wanted to take us rock climbing I was a little skeptical.  And by skeptical I mean nauseous. (For more on our visit to Los Alamos check out here!)

I am a great believer in facing you fears.  I don't like for fear to have control over me.  Period.  I don't like for it to dictate what I do or don't do.  Honestly, I was a feeling a little ashamed at how nervous I was about doing this.  I've been sky diving!  I've jumped off bridges!  Why would climbing a rock freak me out?  When I got down deep to it is was because after having a baby I feel like I have lost part of my athletic self--my daredevil self.  I was worried I physically would embarrass myself.  I was worried that I was being a bad mother by taking a risk.  Worry is just fear whispering to you. 

Lucky for me Zach's cousin Christie is a badass.  She's a mother of five, survivor, and rock climbing instructor.  If she could do it, I had to at least try it.  And I am so glad I did.

The truth is that by the end of the day Zach and I both had fallen a little in love with rock climbing.  For him, I believe it was figuring out the puzzle of where to go next, keeping your mind focused, and being outside.  For me it was facing that fear each moment, being in such beauty, and trusting yourself to make it happen. 

In my experience it always pays off to face your fears.  Whether that is fear of change, fear of loss, fear of heights, snakes, spiders, infestations, whales, or the fear of being alone.  We all have one that makes a nest inside our heart and minds.  Take that fear out, set it on fire, and go live.

Motherhood

Being a Mom is hard.  People say that to you when you become pregnant.  You believe it but you don't fully understand.  Women will talk about the pains of childbirth, the early sleepless nights, the terrible twos, teething, sickness, fatigue.  They will share their stories.  Which we all need. We need these stores.  We NEED to talk about all of this.  We rarely talk about ourselves though.  We rarely discuss the loneliness, the guilt, the boredom, or even the yearning for a previous life.

I wasn't in love with my daughter.  Not at first.  Everyone tells you that when a baby is born it will change your life.  That you can never imagine loving something more.  I cried big hot tears when they first put her on my chest.  Tears of relief and exhaustion.  I knew that she was mine.  That I wanted to protect her, care for her, and do what was best for her.  But I also didn't know her.  Our love affair was a slow one.  Getting to know each other.  Her revealing her brilliant shining personality one small moment at a time.  And then one day there it was.  That unimaginable love.  The kind that brings tears back when I think of anything happening to her.  I had a lot of guilt at first about not being bonded with her.  People asked if I just couldn't get enough of her.  If I just wanted her with me all the time.  Nope.  I needed space.  I needed to be me without being a Mom. 

These days its hard to find space in a small camper with a one year old.  She sleeps in the same room as us.  She cries, she snores, she coos--she wakes up really damn early.  As a Mom, Photographer, Navigator, Wife, and Researcher I'm still trying to find the balance in myself. And we need to talk about that.  There are days I just want to be one thing.  I just want to be a photographer that day.  Or I just want to be a tourist.  Or I just want to be a lover.  It is easy to get overwhelmed by all the roles and demands.  To pine for a simpler time instead of being present in this whirlwind.  Right now there are no babysitters.  All of my roles are full on all the time and I would be lying if I said it wasn't exhausting. 

But its also beautiful.  There is a lot of living in my life right now.  I get to experience a beautiful world that I shamefully haven't seen before.  I get to roam streets and woods and beaches and swamps.  I wash our daughter under the full moon.  I sing her to sleep amidst the background of crickets, tree frogs, and cicadas.  I read.  I photograph what is before me.  I talk about what is whispering to my soul.  I tell myself the truths I need to know.  It's okay to be overwhelmed.  Live here now.  You are enough.

On a Personal Note

I just peed on our camper floor.  You would think that this would be something that our one year old would do but instead she’s looking at me quizzically with her dark brown judgy eyes.  

Zach woke bright and early to walk the half mile to the campground bath house and get in a shower before we took off on the road again.  I woke up after him and my post birth bladder was about to burst.  I nursed our daughter, trying to keep her kicking feet away from my abdomen.  Then I did what any camping woman would do, I went outside to pop a squat.  However at this particular campground, I had neighbors with no real cover in between us.  Not a problem, I’ll just go over towards the beach.  At the beach an early morning fisherman gave me a cheerful wave, “Morning!”  I mumbled and turned around.

I was getting desperate.  I went back into the camper where our daughter was secured in her travel bed and starting to complain.  “Okay okay okay, what can I pee in?”  I grabbed a ziploc bag.  Eureka!  

This particular Ziploc bag had a hole.  “Shit.”

The camper comes stocked with a toilet.  However, we hadn’t set it up yet and I had never used it.  In my pee frenzy, the idea of having to scoop pee out of the toilet seemed like a stupid option.

I flung the door open and sprinted back out to the beach.  I dropped my pants and let fly.  I stood up, locked eyes with my fisherman pal, and smiled, “Morning!”

Laundromat

The muggy hotness of the room is stifling.  Sweat beads all over my body, making puddles, dark creases, and a glistening mustache.  Despite the sweat, heat, and there being a million people, the room smells fresh.  The chemical sweetness of a multitude of different detergent brands wafts into the air with each machine door that opens.

It’s laundry day.  And apparently Sunday is everyone’s laundry day in Florida City.  The Laundromat is packed with people from every background and age group.  Except white.  I’m the only white person in the room.

I struggled to keep Lucy June from running off while I get our laundry out of the dryer and into the cart to be folded.  It’s a one step forward, two steps back situation.  I get a pair of panties into the cart.  Success!  I chase LJ across the room.  I get two pairs of socks into the cart.  Success!  I pull LJ from under a table.  Seeing me struggle, another Mom comes across the room, “Would you like me to hold the baby?”  Another Mom also come over, “I can hold your cart while you unload.”

Each time I have moved in my life I have become more segregated.  Not intentionally.  But it seemed that each time I had less and less exposure to different cultures and races.  It’s something that I was acutely aware of in Tennessee.  My coworkers were white.  My friends were mostly white.  Then, by becoming a stay at home working Mom, I just didn’t see anyone.  Especially anyone new.  

When Zach and I decided to actually go on this adventure my heart leapt at the chance to experience different areas of the country and different cultures.  And here I was, the odd ball out, and feeling self conscious.  

In 2005 I spent a month in Zimbabwe and for the first time in my life I was a minority.   I stood out like a beacon.  That experience taught me a lot about myself.  About my unconscious thoughts.  About the nature of hate.  The nature of discrimination.  It also taught me that people are people.  And that love is love.

As I sat in the Laundromat, melting, feeling self conscious, and thinking about all of this.  My beautiful, red-headed, unselfconscious daughter reached out to the big black man next to us and stroked his arm.  She smiled her wrinkled nose smile at him as I apologized for her lack of boundaries.  He just smiled and cooed at her, “You’re loving on Big Joe aren’t you?”  She giggled and stroked his arm again.

I love watching her on this trip.  I love seeing how children bring us all back together again.  How parenting can break social boundaries just because you’re all in the same boat.  I love that she doesn’t know any difference between one person and another yet.  We often joke that she is our Ambassador.  She loves people and people love her.

We try to teach our kids so much but often we can learn so much from them.  We can learn to just be.  That people are just people.  And that love is love.   

On Leaving

"You really were made to do this," my Mom laughs as we sit on our old sunken couch.  She's in for a couple days to help babysit as I try to shove the parts of our lives we want to hold on to into plastic bins.  Zach is another world away.  Taking in the vast West and battling alternators on lonely roads.  

She and I were reminiscing about all our family camping trips.  In the summer we would pile in our van and head for the mountains.  Windows down and the cool mountain air catching our voices as we would sing.  Yup, we were that family.  We joke that our family is cursed.  We never had a family camping trip that didn't get rained on.  And by rain I mean drought breaking, record making monsoons.  Some of my earliest memories are splashing around in puddles with my barbie in hand.  My parents stubborn determination to make the most of each trip kept us there.  We didn't pack up and go home.  We made the most of it.  Always.

 
I come from a heritage of campers and adventurers.  My Mom and Dad both got it from their parents; boy scouts, girls scouts, troop leaders, back packing, and long road trips to Alaska.  It's deep down in me.  A longing.  

All the same giving up roots is hard.  After years of being a Pastors kid and moving, I never expected to stay in one place very long.  But after eight years, Knoxville has made an impression on me.  It's been a place of firsts.  First house we owned, first place as a married couple, first renovation, and first child.  Those things are hard to let go of, but it's the little things that really sink their hooks into you.  The smell of our front door, the creak in the hardwood floors, the way the morning light streams into our daughters bedroom, the cool shade in the garage in the afternoon.  Knowing where I'm going when there is a year of getting lost ahead.  

People are always the hardest though.  We have been fortunate to have a village of family and friends in Knoxville that support and help us on a daily basis.  They believe in us.  And it's their faith that makes leaving, and the knot in my throat when I think about leaving them, easier.  After years of moving I know that people like that in your life, stay in your life.  Your life is more beautiful because of them.  I've always thought that in some ways I have been lucky to move throughout my life.  Along the way I have met amazing people and gathered them close to me.  I take them with me to the next place and they embolden me.  

Leaving is hard.  That's the simple truth.  The longing inside of me gives me confidence that this is right for us.  That I have been waiting for a trip like this.  That maybe I was even made for it.  To continue to pass on that heritage to our daughter.  To show her how to make the most of it.  Always.
    

Oh Baby Baby

In case, I forgot to mention it...Speed Racer and I are pregnant!  We are having a baby and quite soon too I might add!  Our little one is set to make its debut February 3rd, 2015.  So between holidays and preparing for baby, the posts and updates may be few and far between.  I appreciate your patience during this time, especially all of my clients who have already shown me so much patience and love!  I cannot wait to share the next stage in our life with you as well as my photography career.  Here's to the next adventure!

A special thinks also to Kayla with Kayla F Photography!  I cannot get over my amazing maternity session with her and adore each and every beautiful image she took!

Still Moments 4.4.14

 

To me, there is absolutely nothing like starting my day off with a warm drink.  It's one of my few daily rituals that I stick to.  I also realized this morning that it's one of the few Still Moments that I have everyday and it always starts the day off right.  My morning usually starts very early and there is something about making coffee or pouring tea that calms, rejuvenates, and prepares me for the day ahead.  It's a time where I contemplate the dreams that are still on the edge of my consciousness and turn my thoughts to what's in store.

We all need morning moments that speak to us whether it's coffee, prayer or meditation, or maybe lacing up your shoes for a run.  What is yours?  I encourage you to revel in your personal still moment this morning and start today feeling reawakened.

Snapshots

 

As a professional photographer its incredibly important to me not to forget to capture my everyday life.  Don't get me wrong, there is a side of my brain that never stops taking pictures.  I see them EVERYWHERE and try to capture the most I can.  But there are times when I get so focused on work, bookings, editing etc, that I forget to take a breath and look around me.

Like at this little guy, who is just begging to have his picture taken...

Seriously...

He loves the camera.  I was surprised how comfortable both my niece and nephew were with the camera.  I don't get to see them as much as I would like to so I was a little worried they would shy away from it but instead they went right for it.  Which made my heart happy.  I would love to look back years later and have many photographs of these normal moments in their lives along with the great achievements.

I'm sure there will be times when they get tired of their crazy Aunt with the camera but in some way I hope it teaches them to keep doing the things they love, to struggle through the mental blocks and fatigue, and to strive to make their passions happen even in ordinary moments.  So for now, I plan to just keep clicking away.