The Twenty-Fifth Year

It’s 8:41 p.m. on a Wednesday night. I’m sitting in bed surrounded by the sweet scent of a champagne scented candle, softly being serenaded by John Mayer, Norah Jones and Coldplay on my iPhone’s Pandora app, scrolling  through my stats from 2011 for The Twenty-Fifth Year. The numbers, the pictures, the comments, the posts.

It’s been a long time since I logged in and took a glance around. Heck, it’s been a long time since I even thought about this space. I haven’t posted for almost three months. I missed my goal of posting a photo every day last year. I fell short. Really short.

I’ve had a lot of people ask me lately, “Hey, what happened to you writing? Where are your photographs? Where are you?!”

I slipped away quietly. And I have to chuckle reading that because I’ve never been one to leave the party without extending overly long hugs, lingering goodbyes and a big wave as I head out the door.

Yet I did it with the blog – a piece of my life that has provided a place for my voice to be heard, my circle of friends to grow and a path of which to make my own.

Why? Why did I do it?

Simply put, I wasn’t happy blogging. I felt obligated. Forced, even. Perhaps this is why people are shocked when someone follows through on a year-long goal – it’s a big deal.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved finding great places and faces to share here. It was a great way to jump into this passion of mine. The support and encouragement that flowed from all of you was immeasurable. So many times, I’ve recalled your kind words and smiled. But all I really felt was my instinct and knew, I just knew, I wasn’t doing this because I enjoyed it. And what’s more – I didn’t miss it.

That’s what scared me the most – the simple realization that something that had become so “me,” a characteristic of who I was, just didn’t feel like it was so me anymore.

Since my last post, a lot has happened. It always does. The ironic thing about life is that it doesn’t care if you’re swamped at work, missing your best friends, busy Christmas shopping or fighting new allergies; it just keeps coming.

Often, I think to myself, “As soon as I get through ____, things will slow down and I can really focus on ____.”

Then, whatever it is that’s got me so busy passes, and its replacement shows up at my doorstep, fully intent on taking up my time, attention and focus. I’m not sure how easy it is – that is, if it’s even easy at all – to master that whole feeling of being overwhelmed.

In getting to understand photography better this year, I’ve learned a lot about focus, viewpoints, composition and the subject at hand. Each has some level of affect on the others, yet it’s a matter of how the photographer chooses to incorporate them and tie them all together that really makes the photograph into its end result. What’s not in focus will be blurred. Where most stand to take in a scene is not always the same spot from which the most creative shot is taken. Placing one subject, or object for that matter, ahead of, to the side of or behind another can make or break the whole shot.

From behind the lens, if you want to figure out the best way to blend all of these together, you have a couple of choices. There’s the camera manual – whether you choose to thumb through it or read it word for word; there’s places to reach out to fellow photographers: forums, organizations, meet ups; and there’s trial and error. Rise and fall. Victory and defeat. It’s not the easiest way, and a lot of times it may not be the most conventional, but it’s 100 percent your own.

Photography – just like life – can be overwhelming. But the greater shared trait between the two is how unique they are – each provoke emotions – happiness, fear, worry – ignite actions – laugh, cry, smile – and each is exactly what a person makes of them.

And that’s just it – this whole ride we’re on and the rises and falls it will without a doubt present, are no one else’s. Sure it’s easy to place blame, point fingers and shout toward the sky, “why?!” but at the end of the ride, as the car comes to a screeching hault, your body finally catches up to the force, jerks you back, settling your hair and you realize, “Hey, that wasn’t so bad!”

So for all the dips, turns and twists, for the moments your legs slam against the bar holding them back from gravity’s force, the seconds of literal free-falling, and even for the anticipation as you climb up the hill, you hold on – because that’s all you can do.

I’ve been holding on and just my luck: the ride’s not over. In fact, I just turned a corner and I see some pretty fierce hills headed my way. Am I worried? Nah. After all, I signed up for this ride. I bought my ticket, stood in line and now I’m in my seat and there’s no turning back.