Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Shutter. Click. Breathe.


I haven't picked up my camera in over a year. I think I've forgotten how it feels in my hands, the solid heaviness of clicking and focusing and finding moments in little things. I think I've lost it, I think I lost it in the divorce. In the heartache and the pain, in the things I didn't want to capture and in the emotions that were too raw to be displayed.

Because photography for me was an escape, a safe place, a place to work it out and find god in the things forgotten and in the things unseen. It was a place to be stripped and honest and bare, and I'm not sure what happened, I'm not sure what went wrong or what my subconscious said to my conscious but I haven't picked up my camera in over a year.

Maybe even two.

Sure, I take daily photos with insta.gram and hisptamatic and it is fun and silly and special. I take daily reminders of the good that happened that day or a funny for a laugh later on. I capture moments to be shared with my boyfriend that lives halfway across the world, it is my way of saying, look, I brought you with me, I'm sharing this memory with you. I do that, and I love it, and I have a collection of the everyday things that make my heart smile or jogs a memory or creates a new marker in this chapter that I am in.

...but it isn't the same.

And I don't know if I am afraid or scared of what I will find or what I won't find, I don't know if it it's because it was my escape for so so long and so the very act of doing it takes me back to a place that I am struggling to let go and dying to let go of.

I don't know if it's because the girl behind the lens is no longer the same and the pictures that I am taking and the people that I am photographing and the landscape that I am capturing has all changed so dramatically and crazily.

I don't know if it is the intimacy of being that raw and honest that is holding back. I don't know if like other things, if this divorce has robbed me of the ability to trust and let go. I enjoy my privacy, and I enjoy my walls. They are perhaps not entirely healthy, but they keep me safe.

So I'm giving myself a timeline, a chance, a challenge.

I'm giving myself a push.

I stumbled onto a website of someone that gets it, someone that understands the power of a photograph and the magic that happens when you capture. And she made a list, of 100 things to do. And somewhere, something clicked.

I'd like to take pictures again.

That's somewhere close to the top of my list.

I'd like to learn to take pictures again.

And the other 99 things, the other 99 things will come I'm sure.

But this, this sparks something in deep my soul.

This makes me believe I can.

This makes me believe I will.

This makes me believe that I am not lost, not broken, not forever changed and scarred, but growing, but evolving, but figuring my way out...slowly but surely.

This gives me my happy for today.

And it's a small step, it's whispering an intention, then wanting to take it back almost immediately after, it is a tentative dip to test the waters.

And I am breathing.

I can do this.

Someday, I'm going to take pictures again.