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Worth it

2/23/2014

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Picture
This scanned photograph was made ages ago -- in June 1991 -- with a Pentax point and shoot with the size and heft of a brick. The scene is of a lake in the Quetico Provential Park, Ontario, Canada, where we paddled, camped and fished over several summers.
Life got in the way of my best intentions this week. One of those intentions was a post, or maybe two, to the blog. Day by day I highlighted on "the list" those items I'd accomplished. There sat "blog" under the Monday heading, increasingly by itself, decidedly un-colorful. Undone.

This morning, as I sat at the kitchen counter, sipping that delightful first cup of coffee and writing in my journal, I wondered at my willingness to let that particular item go. Why did I not write? Being on a regular schedule with the blog is something I am fairly convinced I want. A host of tasks important and not so important crowded it out, pushed their way to the front. And, I let them.

As I pondered all this I wrote "Why am I so reluctant to take the plunge? I'm not exactly leaping in with both feet here." 

Thinking about plunging is what brought to mind those trips into the Quetico Provencial Park, and led me to the photograph albums. But, not to another day of procrastination, of not writing. Not this time.

We were in the wilderness on these trips. With nothing but what we could carry.  With no way to get anywhere except in those canoes. We cooked over a fire and slept in tents. There being no facilities, we walked the "garden path" regularly. And, to bathe? One took the plunge -- into that clean, clear, cold water.

Because of the cold and my negative anticipation, I put it off for days on that first trip in 1991. I put it off until I couldn't stand myself another minute. With all the courage and determination I could muster, I leapt into a deep hole feet first and came up with a gasping scream. Which turned into shouts of triumph and maybe even joy. I'd done it! The hardest part was simply talking myself out of putting it off any longer. It wasn't as hard or as awful as I'd let myself imagine it would be.

Nothing but refreshing and worth it. So worth it.

"Blog" will appear early on a list this week. I shall remember Quetico and that first bath before I decide to take up another item in its place. 

Now, to go back to Monday's list with the highlighter! Yay.   
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Traction

2/13/2014

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The storm over and the sun radiant, we stretched our legs this afternoon. That's my husband, Tal, and our dog, Belle, exploring the wintry world.
Whoa.  I had a moment yesterday.  It's taken me about 24 hours to get a grip on it.  All I know is that at the moment I knew it was a moment.  A good first step.

Here in the southeastern part of the United States a second major winter storm has barreled through.  As it approached we were instructed by everyone from the governor of the state on down not to venture out, to get ready in advance and then to stay home. 

Yesterday during the worst of it I watched an entertaining scene from my desk in a second floor dormer.

First, I heard the sound of a car.  Hmmm.

Then, a lovely silver BMW sedan crept into view, the tires spinning, its forward momentum lost.  Reverse, and back out of view.  Forward, and again in sight. 

The driver door opened and a well-dressed man stepped out onto the ice.  Leather shoes, suit and bright tie, topcoat.  Another man, bundled against the pelting sleet, appeared with a big square of cardboard and a shovel.  They took turns digging tracks behind and in front of the car. 

Back in the car the driver eased forward, slid sideways, reversed.  Again.  Again.  Again.  The helper tried pushing at one point, ending up on his knees.  No progress.

The two men conferred.  The cardboard and shovel were cast into a front yard.  The driver popped the trunk.  The helper climbed in. 

The car eased along the street and out of view.

Traction. 

And, there I sat.

It's traction.  The answer! 

So, what I am going to put in my metaphorical trunk to stop the endless spinning?  To get myself going?  Under way?

Any ideas?






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May I start over?

2/11/2014

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Picture
I have been working toward resuming blog writing for some time. As the moment approached to do the deed, I found myself face to face with the "how to start" dilemma -- which included what to call this new space, trying to be clear about why I want to write, and a host of other niggly things.

This isn't my first blog. I wrote VicarRidge during the last years I worked full time. Meanderings was intended to be a celebration of more footloose days after I stopped working.*  Neither of those efforts ended deliberately; I consider neither a failure. They simply ran down as I ran out of things to say and ran out of energy. That Write Light will be any different remains to be seen.

So, a blog about photography, which for me is a practice of contemplating light. A blog about observing life, which for me is a practice primarily of monitoring my own attitude. You will read lots more about that -- the attitude, I promise. In fact, despite the title I gave this post, I'm not really asking permission to begin again and I'm not inwardly snarling at myself for having arrived at a third beginning. Perhaps "three strikes and you're out" is no more accurate than "third try's the charm." 

I chose the photograph deliberately. It was made two years and seven days ago in Ward, South Carolina, on what used to be a regular driving route.  Almost without fail, I'd see those tracks and think I should stop. On that day I did.  The gleaming of the late afternoon sun on those rails was too much of a draw for me to tell myself yet again that I'd stop another time.

Now, I see all sorts of things wrong with the image.  The road crosses too near the horizontal center, bisecting the scene too evenly.  There's too much out-of-focus track in the foreground.  The highlights, especially along the rails, are clipped.  In other words, I would compose it differently now and I'd probably develop it differently, too.  After all, I know more about photography and the processing software in 2014 than I did two years ago.  And, I am a different person. These tracks though Ward help me remember and smile at that. 

Maybe one day soon I'll time a trip to stop in Ward close to sunset and photograph those tracks again.  But in the meantime, as I start over, I didn't make a new image and I didn't edit the old one. Letting it be seems right.

My big question?  Yes, I'd approach a new photograph of this scene differently now.  Will I approach writing a blog differently, as well?  We'll see, so stay tuned.




* Both previous blogs are available under the Blogs tag.










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    Welcome

    For most of my 60 years I have let the question "what is this all about?" dwell somewhere in my being -- in the forefront at times, frequently banished to the depths. It's persistent, that question.

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