Sometimes mornings are running dialogues where one of the players has the most lines. The third grader is the star with the second player, her mother, interjecting a few pointers along the way. The thoughts that are most prominent will be repeated, possibly over and over, until they are sufficiently acknowledged and understood. It seems as though this dialogue—which, let’s face it, is really a monologue—takes precedence over all else while the second and more lowly player believes that getting dressed, brushing teeth and eating breakfast are the more worthwhile activities. Sometimes the star of the show recalls Very Important Activities, like saying goodbye to her goldfish, that all of a sudden must be done before she walks out the front door. It is the second player’s job to think and act quickly, assuring the star why the fish will be fine without an adieu.
Eventually the first player carries her monologue-dialogue out the door with her. This morning it was carried into her Papa’s car and what happened there I cannot say, though I certainly can imagine. All the words and important thoughts and stories to tell are sucked out that door with her, like a vortex that leaves silence in its wake. All the flurried energy goes with her and behind her there is great silence that envelopes all the second player’s thoughts like a thick blanket. Quiet, stillness remains.
Soon enough the star will choose different words to express herself. She may share her lines with someone else on most days or perhaps even take them to an internal place to sort out before relying on the second player. I enjoy this thought as I sit in front of my computer with a cup of coffee at hand. Someday these words about little things will become words about big things and they will have power to change the world, a few characters at a time.
…a bouquet of tulips in my kitchen.
Every January I begin sifting through December’s images to find new ones to post. The December Photo Project usually produces a plethora of shots, and since I only post one a day, I like to show the rest when the DPP is over. That being said, this shot was snapped the day after Christmas and therefore was not DPP fodder, but I’m posting it all the same. If you’ve never scrolled through old photos to re-purpose, you should. Today I rolled through about 20 pages on my old Flickr photostream and had a ball walking down memory lane.
I’ve long said Livia reminds me of Jackson Pollack because she’d roll in paint if she could. The physical connection of paint and canvas makes her very very happy.
Our holiday break has been, well, luxuriously quiet and slow. Translation: things are getting boring around here. When Livia asked to do face paints tonight I let her. You can see the results. Some of the paint is so thick she can’t open an eyelid all the way.
Liv wants me to ask blog readers a question: What am I? (I think we played this guessing game once before and she was entertained by it. Have at it!)
Final note. After finding face paint on the floor, walls, several light switches and at least five pieces of clothing and/or towels, Livia’s mean parents have banned the substance from the house for a time. Whew.
We were leaving the hospital after visiting sweet newborn Asher when Livia stopped walking and asked for my little camera. I handed it to her and stepped back to watch her work. She stood in front of a water feature in the lobby and snapped a shot. She leaned way over into the water—camera still in hand—so I quickly pulled her back, put her into position and encouraged another shot.
It was a small moment for sure. We tucked the camera away and continued walking down the long hallway to the parking garage. But man, what a proud moment for this photographer mama. Taking the time to pause our lives to pursue creativity? It doesn’t happen all that often!
As a photographer, I always want to listen to the internal voice that says, Stop, look again, now shoot it. But I think this little lesson goes far beyond photography. It’s a reminder to enjoy life, to soak it in. Decorate a cake, maybe for no reason. Sit down and luxuriate in reading a book instead of being online. Knit something. Build something. Put a new piece of art on your walls. Wear eyeliner instead of just mascara or set the table with your wedding china instead of the stuff from Target. In 2014 I want life to not just be the responsibilities and to-do’s on my checklist; I want it to be the creative cream filling, enjoyed and savored because it is rich and wonderful.