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home

By on Feb 27, 2015 | 0 comments

i have had many homes, some brief and some long and drawn out some that lived only in the spaces of my memory’s heart a snowy gravel road through dense trees, a white sand beach of rocky waves, a lonely tent swallowed up by the howl of something i couldn’t quite identify an old brick building with mold stained windowsills a trailer that had holes in the walls and a carpet that when pulled back revealed the dirt ground beneath the cracks, and that 1978 red ford fiesta that always had a cooler in the hatchback.  just in case i needed to escape to the quiet buzz of the forest and the crackle of a fire carefully made with kindling cut up with the hatchet that lived beside the cooler. i have had many homes that lived under my skin in the quiet spaces in between the living in the lost howl of my insecurities and the gruff growl of my rising up a bruised knee a soft sigh a whisper...

changes

By on Feb 18, 2015 | 0 comments

  i have been thinking about how much i continue to change, so much so that i don’t know that i have time to catch up with myself.  looking backwards, i can see where i have been but it is a bit jarring because i am no longer her.  and i spent a lot of time this year in a state of denial rather than face the question of who the hell am i? i remember a sociology class i took back in the early 90s and the age old question of what does it mean to be canadian and how we find it easier to define ourselves by comparison, by what we are not.  i feel a lot like that with regards to my self these days.  it is hard to be definitive when my mind is constantly taking in new information and thus changing what i believe on a regular basis it seems. i thought that at this age (46), i would have a defined sense of self.  i don’t. not really.  but i am realizing that is a good thing...

filters

By on Feb 2, 2015 | 0 comments

  Anyone who really knows me, knows that I can be a bit intense, a bit compulsive obsessive.  When I decide to do something, I am like a dog with a bone and I don’t mind putting in the work.  I can be quite single minded about things and throw myself into the journey with a great deal of passion.  The opposite side of all that is I can scatter easily, become unhinged, lose myself in the voices of others and suddenly the world is like a tilt-a-whirl and I can’t stop the spinning. I am sensitive.  Extremely sensitive.  And that doesn’t mean I cry a lot though I have when crying is warranted.  It doesn’t mean I can’t be told hard truths and it doesn’t mean I break easily or am too fragile.  I am incredibly strong willed and have no problem hearing opinions and giving my own.  I used to confuse sensitivity with weakness but that is not really the...

silence

By on Jan 28, 2015 | 0 comments

  the noise circled and spun and spiraled she longed for the silent escape of a a moment for the voices to stop for her mind to quiet so she ventured into the center of the noise and found blessed silence. the wind howled across the frosted air and her pulse quickened, her breath puffed out as she realized that the voices had nothing whatsoever to do with her and she had the power to escape across the snowy landscape into the womb space of the in between.  her past was back there and her future was out there and the space in between was the silent now, the center of everything, the quiet of nothing. and she exhaled. and...

gently held

By on Jan 27, 2015 | 0 comments

  when i feel fragile, i remember that i am gently held in this world by so many.  our collective experiences are vastly different and yet so very similar at the core of it all. and today a friend posted some snow tulips and i remembered photos i had done of tulips in the snow once and so i went looking for them.  7 years ago.  how can it have been so long ago and then i realize that it has been years since i have intentionally taken photos with my very expensive paper weights of cameras and lenses.  okay, that is not entirely true, i have recently started taken photos again for self portrait compositing but it is slow going.  a weekend here, an hour there.  as i looked back at all the photos i used to take, my mouth sort of dropped open.  and then i remember that i used to carry one or two or three cameras with me everywhere and the thought of doing that again feels exhausting...