Winter moment
A walk through the woods
seems to go
of its own accord
past fir trees whose branches
bow low with the snow
past oak trees whose branches
seem roots
that reach to the sky
You travel a path
that is not to be seen
breaking the snow crust
that covers the ground
moving through
thick-falling snow
that catches on eyelashes
till you reach a clearing
you hadn’t known was there
And here
the trees are pushed back
the snow is unbroken
the sky leans down
to soften the fall of its
snowflakes
And here
peace comes in.
~ Deborah Killip, via a sister
Mind the tumbleweed
A dear friend of mine interviewed me today for an article she is writing for a national newspaper. This was not a chore, especially as I was talking about photography, my favourite subject to wax lyrical about these days. What will be a chore, however, is the portrait I will have to sit for to illustrate the feature. I hate having my picture taken; the few self portraits I have shared on this blog were a definite step towards finding some self-acceptance, some peace when faced with my own face. I’ve figured out which angles and poses are the most forgiving, but if at all possible I avoid the camera – this skittishness lends me a lot of empathy when I’m working with my adult clients. Every time we begin I tell them to trust me, that I will capture them at their best, and that it’s going to be an enjoyable experience. The kids are always excited; the parents are less so, but with a little cajoling and some time spent building a rapport, the shoot invariably is a success. It’s going to be interesting being on the other side of the camera, with no control over the final result – to have a moment in a client’s shoes.
This January has proved to be the most surprising month I’ve had in a long while. Things have been happening that I’d love to be able to share here, but these things are in such an embryonic state right now, I don’t want to jinx it. Suffice it to say I’ve had reason to smile recently, and despite the fears that crop up from time to time, I’m learning to enjoy the unknown, the beginnings and the slow dance that happens when you let yourself open up again.
Seventeen days
If there is one thing you do not want to feel, do not wish to even engage with while grieving, it is broodiness. Just as I have kept the desire to connect with another squashed down inside me, I never let myself go to the place of babies and families and rose-tinted thoughts about how cute knitted booties are.
However, today I met little Katherine, and while I wouldn’t describe what I felt as broodiness exactly, I was most definitely euphoric for the hour I held her in my arms while she slept, grinning madly and kissing her head. You’d have to be pretty cold-hearted not to feel the desire to protect such a tiny thing. I have friends who have children and friends who want children, and hidden among them is me. There were plans in the past for children, and I guess there continues to be a fuzzy idea that one day it may well be something I wish for.
If death is the black cloud that fucks up your life for as long as it must, then the brand new human being I met this morning was another taste of the sun shining again. Hours later, and as I’m editing the photographs i took of her, I can’t help but think yes, this is what it’s all about – the love, the pain, the learning and the mistakes – it’s to keep the human race going, to share the love and pass on the wisdom.
Obviously, when she woke up and started crying, I was more than happy to give her back to her mother. Little steps.
In with the new
I’m probably not being as obscure as i think I am, but let me just say this: things are changing and while I’m on my back foot about some of it, I know this path is the way forward for 2008. Being open and brave and FEARLESS.
You never know what is around the corner. It’s so true.
