I’ve been in the midst of what seems to be the Longest Transition Ever. Choosing to leave a career and the only work you have ever known is never easy. What makes this transition harder than my tween years is that the chasm between the world I left behind and the world I am trying to create couldn’t be more profound. The space I am occupying right now is awkward. We’re talking high waters, braces and growth spurts. Nothing seems to fit.
Through all of this, I have found much solace in the process of photography. Something about it allows me to shrink my world. Even if for a brief moment, my mind is quieted. Inspiration and magic can now enter. But, the more I feel drawn to document, the more my ‘old world’ friends look at me like a stranger. Sharing my images (i.e., a piece of my heart) has become unbearable. There are long, uncomfortable pauses accompanied by ‘the look’…like I just presented them with macaroni art, which would be cool if I were 6 years old and not 44. Suddenly, I am watching myself, in disbelief, as I explain away and disparage my work. I feel crushed and deflated and vow to never share again.
I finally figured out what this was really all about. In one fell swoop, another’s reaction causes me to loose my footing. To loose myself. I am so quick to question everything…who I am, what I am doing…where I am going. The Universe loves to test us to get a read on where we still have work to do. I still have work to do. So, Dear Universe, thank you. I get it. It wasn’t about my macaroni art sucking. It was about being true and believing in yourself because at the end of the day, that is what we always have to come back to.