Sunday, September 23, 2012

Dusting off my lens

I have not felt like picking up my camera lately. Other than to look for lost paperwork that needs to go in Cole's backpack as he is dashing out the door for school, I have not lifted the camera off my desk. It sits on top of my journal as they have a conversation about how I am avoiding them both. They are shocked that I would rather lose myself in the black hole of cyberspace as I read about whether Jessica Simpson has lost her 90 lbs of baby weight or look through Facebook photos of friends of friends, whom I have never met (nor will meet) or better yet get sucked into the world of Pinterest, where four hours and 150 pinned items later I have nothing to show for it other than my aching back from poor posture and my eyes weary from staring into a screen. My camera gives me this look of disapproval and my journal has long since stopped speaking to me. I have been avoiding them both, instead filling my time with more pressing matters like cleaning blinds that have not been dusted in the past five years or vacuuming out closets.

I started a writing class two weeks ago with the hopes it would inspire my creative self to magically appear. I assumed that being held accountable to a weekly assignment would pressure me to write more; instead I find myself conjuring up every excuse as to why I cannot write. I have even found myself hand washing the kitchen floor at midnight in a ridiculous attempt to convince myself the floor has to shine before I could write. I have stopped and started stories a dozen times. At least my journal is speaking to me again, she is happy that I have opened her and stared at her blank white pages.

Our writing teacher said that writing is more about perseverance than talent. I feel as though I am lacking in both.  We read this article called Art and Fear by David Bayler and Ted Orland that said "art making can be a rather lonely, thankless affair. Virtually all artists spend some of their time (and some artists spend virtually all of their time) producing work that no one else much cares about." This (while not a rather uplifting) thought, rings true. However, to me it reinforces that my photography and my writing should be for me, for simply the joy in doing so. It reminds me of the part of the movie in Rocky IV (Oh, how I love Rocky movies. That will be a story of its own.), where the Russian boxer is losing to Rocky, and he shouts to his country, "I fight for me. For me!" You Rocky fans can picture that scene, right?

So I write for me, like people run or paint or carve wooden figurines, it is all an art. If we do not reap some sort of personal satisfaction from it, we need a break or to find something else that brings us joy, because if we feel good, we make others feel good. Today I dusted off my camera and put words on paper. A small feat I know but a start. After all, Rocky just needed 5 weeks to train to beat the Russian boxer, and he did it minus the steroids (well, in the movie anyway).

Do not wait until the conditions are perfect to begin. Beginning makes the conditions perfect. ~Alan Cohen

Love & Light,

Stacy


I love my doorway entrance in the Fall.




Playtime.


Friends, forts and nerf guns equals the good life.






The limequat I received for Mother's Day is getting closer to being ready to pick. Just in time for mosquito free nights on the deck with a corona!

3 comments :

  1. The limequat photo is exceptional and should be entered in every contest that comes your way Stacy.

    Steve

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  2. You can do it Rocky! My journally has been snagnant (?) since I started the blog. My sister is such an exceptional writer-i wish for her talent on a daily basis. I wish we lived closer....I think we would be good for each other.
    Keep writing, friend...and enjoy the limequats:)

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  3. Stacy two comments for you:
    1) "The one who plays with their kids the most win, always."

    2) "I do my art so that my soul knows I'm listening...."

    Keep taking pictures, keep writing... it decorates your soul, & gives many of us great joy to read & see. Love, mom

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