LIFE on Life’s terms: Living in the moment or “Seas the Day”

Like many people, I struggle with the bucolic concept of living in the moment.  My daily planner is planned out months in advance.  Each week I plot out my goals for the week, my appointments, and my dinner menu.  There are very few moments that I’m not at least partly considering the next moment rather than the one I’m in.  Perhaps I’m the oddball, but I suspect that this is pretty common amongst people today.  Everything is about what’s next. 

Living in the moment . . . what does it mean?  Is it akin to so many other phrases that denote the need for appreciation for what you have or what you are or who you are at any given time? 

Is it a reminder that “life is short” so “seize the day” but don’t forget to “stop and smell the roses?” 

Those expressions wouldn’t have gained overuse prominence if there weren’t truth to them. 

This is what has prompted my little life appreciation lesson.  I was fortunate enough to “have” to go to Fort Lauderdale for my work.  Leaving Maine in March to go somewhere warm and sunny is something I dream of every January. 

This trip came up fast and took a lot of work to pull together.  With a little help from some hotel points and a supportive spouse, I was able to extend the trip two extra days and bring my daughter with me.  We had a wonderful, sunshine filled, causal couple of days. 

The evening before our 8:00 am flight home, after touring around on a water taxi and seeing the yachts and mansions of the rich and famous, we took a walk on the beach before dinner.  Always prepared, we both were wearing our bathing suits and decided to take a swim.  The water was warm, easy to get into and the waves were just raucous enough to be fun.  We have beautiful beaches in Maine but the water rarely reaches above sixty degrees and swimming in it is, well, numbingly uncomfortable for me at this age. 

We splashed and bobbed and floated for two hours.  It was getting dark and we hadn’t had dinner yet.  The guys who worked for the hotel were clearing the beach, stacking lounge chairs and picking up towels.  I felt that pull of responsibility and got out of the water to dry off.  My daughter protested and made a case for staying in, claiming she’d only rinse off in the pool rather than swim for another hour once we left the beach (she lied). 

So I gathered up our things and sat in the sand with my camera.  Watching her jump and flip around in the waves made me curiously sentimental for days when I had nothing to worry about, nothing to plan or prepare for.  Truthfully, I can’t even remember feeling like that although I must have as a child.  We had seen a boat earlier in the day that was named “Seas the Day” and I loved the play on words with one of my favorite sayings.  It was a struggle for me to just sit in the warm sand, digging my feet in, shooting the beach and waves and my sweet little daughter just playing in the ocean. 

I have returned home.  I’ve thought about those moments quite a few times, that churning in my stomach, a gnawing feeling that I should be doing something else (like packing for our early departure).  For me, recently diagnosed with ADD, I wonder if it is that “driven” feeling that is a symptom of the disorder.  Or is it’s a byproduct of a busy life?  Perhaps my Catholic school guilt which says that I shouldn’t stop and enjoy myself, that I must always be productive.  I don’t know for sure why I feel the way I do about it but I know I’m on a quest to practice more mindful behavior.  Allow myself to take pleasure in the small, wonderful things about my life, like being able to type this post with one of my cats just over my shoulder and the other nestled on the desk in front of me. 

And I will sit in the sand and watch my daughter play in the sea.  I will live in the moment, even if it’s just for a moment.  This moment. 

New Year New Ideas New Life

A friend of mine gave me this sign as a gift and I just love it.  I’ve always been a fan of New Year, almost more than of Christmas.  While I realize that I’m writing this seven days into this new year, it’s not for lack of the new ideas and other new things I’ve experienced and begun to execute in the past seven days. 

Our Christmas this was year one of new technology (a Kindle Fire for me and an iPad 2 for my daughter – hooray!).  Of course that brings with it a learning curve, and since I love learning new things, it was a great opportunity to dive right in.  I downloaded my first two book that very night. 

Our Christmas vacation, the first of its kind for us, was lazy-lounging-foody-restful and actually made me anxious to go back to work in a way.  Other than entertaining my sister and her boyfriend on New Year’s Eve and staying up past midnight (I think this was a first for my asleep-on-the-couch-by-8:30 husband) and one big event I’ll get to in a minute, it was a Christmas vacation of gluttony and sloth.  I loved it. 

In a recent post I mentioned that our cat, Ocho, who was 4 ½ years old, was hit by a car and died.  It happened just before Thanksgiving.  We all cried about this.  He was a huge member of the family and we missed him like crazy.  After some time had passed, I began to think about a new cat.  We missed having that life in the house, someone to greet you when you got home, someone to race up the stairs after coming in from the rain and jump on you in bed – with a mouse in his mouth.  Now that’s love. 

So the big event I mentioned before is that after I had mourned the death of our beloved Ocho, and as part of the healing process, I believe, I began to research Maine Coon Cat breeders in the state.  Although Ocho was a stray, we fiercely believe that he was part Maine coon.  His personality, that more of a dog in a cat’s body, his desire to “help” with everything we did, his “hanging out” with us around the house, was not typical cat, but it was typical Maine Coon behavior.  They’re even known to retain their “clowny” kitten playfulness throughout their lives. 

So to honor the first, we got two.  A male and a female.  The male was what we sought out and the female was just too pretty to not take her.  Her name is Belle and his name has yet to be decided.  I gave my daughter the naming rights on the girl and she’s been studying French and was looking for something that meant “pretty” so “Belle.  The naming rights for the boy go to my husband, for whom this was a surprise.  He hasn’t made the call yet.  Now we have these two little beings in our lives.  Fuzzy, rambunctious, purring little beings. 

On to the new ideas section of this post; these are some of the goals I wish to accomplish this year:

1. Develop a new website for my photography work – one that targets a more commercial, more fine art market to sell my work on a larger scale.
2. Learn how to create mixed media art using my photography, collage material, paint, whatever is on hand and works, and bring my artistic development up a notch.
3. Create a cohesive, intentional marketing effort to get my work out there. 
4. Get back in shape and feel better about myself – yeah, I know, everyone does this at this time of year – but I mean it . . .
5. Make this a year of art shows and person to person sales.
6. Put more effort into my Etsy and Ebay outlets to sell my work. 
7. Go to 7 places I’ve never been; 3 outside of the state of Maine.
8. Publish an article – in print – and get paid for it.
9. Create an email marketing plan and write regular newsletters.
10. Invest in new equipment, mainly upgrade my computer, but also consider getting a new lens and perhaps an iPad for presentational purposes.

To this goal, I like to create some incentives, something I can go back to to be inspired to move on, to refresh my brain.  I like doing collages.  I clip inspirational sayings, words, photos from all kinds of sources and create a spread that highlights the direction I want to move.  Earlier this year I did one with words that flowed from the present space I was in into the end result I was hoping for.  Recently, with the new year, I did one with the words and images of the goals I have for the year.  The above photo and below are some of the parts. 

Check back here often;  I will continue to post examples of this and the other work I’m doing as well as updates on how these kittens are faring in our home.  By the looks of them in this photo, they’re doing pretty well so far.  

If you want to be happy, be.

This quote was in a newsletter I got yesterday.  It was attributed to Leo Tolstoy.  A short little sentence it is, but oh the power it assumes.  As I read it and thought about it, I could almost feel the happiness roll over me. 

If you want to be happy, you can be happy.  Why is it that we tend to give away to others the power of our own happiness?  By that I mean the self defeating statements that I know I’m guilty of enunciating like “I’ll be happy when  . . . we can buy a bigger house . . . this winter is over . . . fill in the blank.”  It could be anything on which you hinge happiness. 

 So, stop waiting ... 
Until your car or home is paid off. 
Until you get a new car or home. 
Until your kids leave the house. 
Until you go back to school. 
Until you finish school. 
Until you lose 10 lbs. 
Until you gain 10 lbs. 
Until you get married. 
Until you get a divorce. 
Until you have kids. 
Until you retire. 
Until summer.. 
Until spring. 
Until winter. 
Until fall. 
Until you die. There is no better time than right now to be happy. Happiness is a journey, not a destination. So work like you don't need money, love like you've never been hurt, 
and, dance like no one's watching. 

If not now, when? Your life will always be filled with challenges.  It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time with ... and remember that time waits for no one. 

I recall a story that was emailed to me a few years back.  A man’s wife had just died and he was preparing the outfit in which she would be buried.  In her closet he comes across several brand new outfits, lovely ones, still with tags on them.  She had been saving them for something, some special time, not thinking that the day may never come.  Feel good and be happy now.  Why had she not enjoyed the new clothes and the way they felt against her skin or the way the color set off her eyes?  Why wait?

Okay so as we roll into another year, I’m going to post this little quote on the top of my day planner.  I will write it in random places in my calendar to remind me that I don’t need a reason or have to wait to be happy.  My life is good today. 

Merry Christmas all!

Five small years

 

Indulge me if you will.

Humor me while I pat myself on the back. 

Today is a day of celebration.

It’s a day that for a long time I couldn’t even imagine.  Couldn’t fathom.  

Today marks five – count em’ – five years of sobriety for me. 

Yayyy me!

So today, I’m going to put my camera down, wander away from editing, and stop for a moment and thank people and think about the past five years.

I first have to thank my husband.  He wasn’t my husband when we started this journey, so many many years ago as friends.  We had partied together, with our respective former spouses, and always maintained a connection through the years and through divorces.  When I called him, what was it, seven years ago, and told him that I was now single, I had been drinking that night.  It was a classic drunk dial.  But I did remember him telling me that he had quit drinking and had celebrated two years sober just a few months before that.  I couldn’t believe it.  I wanted to know why.  But not why, like what happened to bring you to this decision, it was more like why the hell would you want to do that?

Fast forward.  This man put up with a lot of the usual alcoholic behavior from me.  Lying, manipulation, deceit, heartache.  But he was there that day that I woke up and said that enough was enough.  And he cheered me on at every turn.  And though it’s been a long time since the thought of a drink had me firmly in its clutched fist, we still talk about it.  We even joke about it.  Despite his argument to the contrary, I don’t think I’d be sober without him.  He’ll probably never read this blog.  He doesn’t care much for sentimentality.  He just knows.  He gets it.  He gets me. 

My parents have been cheerleaders, too.  When they let me move back in with them so that I could start down the path to recovery, I doubt they knew what they were in for.  I detoxed and put together a few days, then a few weeks of sobriety, making an effort to go to AA meetings, and appear sincere, and then I’d relapse.  Some trigger or another had me off to the store.  It was a horrible, desperate time for me and for them.  How to win the battle?  I know they were relieved when in a final frightening weekend, my now husband asked me to move in with him.

It was supposed to be for ninety days, or for whatever it took for me to get sober.  I had to commit to rehabilitation, which I did.  Finally it felt like I was doing this for me and not to please others.  I couldn’t keep living the life I had been.  Those ninety days were hard days.  I went to meetings daily, to intensive outpatient treatment and tried to help others, giving rides and making phone calls.  My husband says that he know when I moved in that he was going to marry me.  He was right. 

So, because I got sober so many things have happened that I must be grateful for. 

Set aside the love story, which intertwines throughout.  I was able to repair the damaged relationship with my parents.  I worked on the financial disaster I was in and took responsibility for myself.  I learned to stop blaming others for my actions.  I have this absolutely wonderful daughter who is growing into a very cool teen.  I love that she is here with me in this house we bought and that we have a home and a life together. 

I renewed my passion for photography and picked up my camera instead of a drink.  In the past five years, I’ve grown this little business and have learned so much more about my craft and about the business of photography. 

I’ve traveled to places I would have never dreamed.  Of course you think of places like Orlando when you’re a kid, but I didn’t have a clue about Mexico.  I’ve snorkeled in the Caribbean and rode the tallest and fastest roller coaster on the continent. 

I make a mean guacamole and ran a 10 k.  I saw the Lion King on Broadway and Blue Man Group at the Charles Theatre in Boston.  Cozumel.  Phillipsburg.  Hollywood.  Virginia Beach.  Tampa Bay.  Bar Harbor.  My own backyard.  Planted gardens and flowers. 

All in the last five years. 

I sit on the couch at night and watch TV with my family and it’s all perfectly normal. 

This morning I took photos of frosted leaves and snow in my driveway before going to work.  Simple little things like that are things I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to experience had I continued drinking.  Hell, I don’t even know whether I’d be alive.  I’m certain that my daughter would not be living with me and my husband wouldn’t be my husband.  That much I know.  Where I would be no one knows.  It’s surprising and wonderful the paths we take and where they lead us.

So today, today is yet another day that I won’t drink, and I will love and be loved, trust and be trusted, give and be given to.  Today is another reason to celebrate.

Quote For The Day

"Don't be afraid to follow your bliss and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be."

~Joseph Campbell~

Sidewalk Arts in the Rain

Fortune's Rocks Beach Biddeford, Maine - the day after

I’m new to the arts and crafts show circuit. That doesn’t mean I’m new to art or craft for that matter, just to the concept of setting up a temporary shop for a day, weekend, or even just a few hours to sell your work. In the past year, I’ve been assigned a space between a gourmet fudge maker and a Christmas wreath crafter, a handcrafted unique bird house designer and a whoopee pie baker, and a marshmallow gun carver and my friend Judy, who makes jewelry, and who is “not in this for the money. It’s just fun . . ” but outsold me by 300%.

I have learned a thing or two from these people, though, and from these events. By making mistakes and finding myself wishing I had brought X, I thought I was totally prepared for the show I did this past weekend in Southern Maine.

My table display

The one thing I needed the most and forgot to pack: my thick skin.

The one thing I wasn’t prepared for: disappointment.

The one thing I hoped wouldn’t happen and did: rain.

The one thing I had, but didn’t get much use out of: inventory.

No, I’m not especially spleeny (a good Maine word for frail, sensitive or easily hurt). And no, I’m not generally a person who looks at life with a glass-half-empty attitude.



But it rained. It poured. The brave ones came out to the show anyway and expected to see some serious art. My first sale of the day was my largest: $100 for one of my bigger, display pieces. The rest of my sales were smaller, but were certainly sales nonetheless. It’s just that there were so few of them. I guess I’m lamenting the fact that there were points in the day that I thought I’d cry from the frustration. Rain poured down the gully on the edge of the sidewalk. It dripped in from the metal poles supporting my just-bought-for-this-occasion beige canopy (without the side walls, because I couldn’t find matching ones, which turned out to be a valuable asset to those around me to keep their work dry when the rain came in sideways). Cars drove by and splashed the back of my table, the tablecloth, the gear I had stowed beneath the skirt.



And not that I can blame them, hardly anyone came. And of those who did, many said “ah, the Saco Sidewalk Art Festival . . it always rains . . “ and they’d shake their heads and give me a small grin, like I should have known or like I did know yet chose to come anyway.

my canopy covered show space

Reality is that you sign up for these events long before the extended forecast comes out. You pay the entry fee. You try to consider everything, every what if, or if not. You – or maybe it’s just me – research display ideas and find something that’ll work for your art. You think about how to pack the car for easy unloading and set up. You consider the phrasing of your signs. You dream about making a bunch of money and being able to call your husband and tell him how great it was and that you’re taking your parents out for dinner on your big earnings and how everyone ranted and raved about your work and you have orders for more work that’ll keep you busy until Christmas and you convince yourself this will be worth having given up your day job.

And then it rains.

And only the brave few come to the show.


And thankfully you make enough to just cover the entry fee and your gas.


And . . . you learn.



And you meet a few people and chat with them and bathe in the compliments.



You listen to their stories of this place or that one and how they shot this amazing sunset and oh here it is in my digital camera do you want to see it?



And your face hurts from smiling because despite all of that, you do like doing this.



And you’re happy about giving up your day job and spending the last four nights gluing mattes together and making signs.

And there’s a certain satisfaction when you back up and take a look at all you’ve created and think about the trail of an image to this point. How it goes from something you see through the viewfinder to your computer to the printer to the table with the glue and mat board to a finished product with your name on it that goes up on someone’s wall that they see every day and it makes them smile.

Ocean Park Beach Path Saco Maine

It takes a lot to put your work out there. Not only do you have to have confidence and pride in what you do or create, you have to have a marketing concept of some sort. You have to know no only what you sell, but how you sell. What kind of image do you intend to project? What psychological nerve do you want to touch in the people who walk by your booth? How are you going to get noticed, in a sea of white canopies and colorful signs? I don’t know the statistics on the amount of money spent by the typical consumer visiting an art or craft show. I understand that for someone to earmark some of their time and energy to going to one of these shows, they have to have an interest of some sort. Sometimes they drive long distances. Sometimes there’s an admission fee. Sometimes it takes the coordination of several friends or family members who enjoy this sort of event to decide to go together and make a day of it. I get it. These people have an investment into this before they even get to the gate. This earns them the right to some sort of expectation. Arts and craft show attendees want to see and buy things that are on a different level from the things on the shelf at Walmart. They want to meet the artists and talk to them about their art. They want a story to tell when someone asks them about the photograph of the sunflower they’ve hung in their living room.



My Dad asked me the next morning if I would do it again. I was sore from moving everything and standing on my wet feet all day. I was struggling to repack the car with items I didn’t sell. My patience was thinning. I had a long drive ahead of me and unpacking at the other end.




I said yes.

Tangled lobster buoy ropes on the beach

PHOTOGRAPHY: In the garden . . .

Fresh picked yellow pear tomatoes in the bath

I can hardly tear myself away.  My camera sits on the counter by the door when I’m home.  I watch for the right light, for the sun to hit those leaves just perfectly, bringing out the texture and fragrance, and I go out and shoot. 

I need the thyme

This garden season is winding down and I’ve been photographing the progress and bounty since the seeds hit the dirt.  From the first emergence from the soil to the time they came to the kitchen, my camera has been as much a part of my gardening tools as watering can.

fell in love with the peppers early on

I thought I’d share the results of my hard work.  Hope you enjoy each little detail as much as I do.

Lots of bee activity on the sunflowers



Tomatoes early in the summer



Soon, tiny green tomatoes

Then a nice little group

Then into the harvest basket

ready to eat . . . yum!

 

portugal hot peppers

love the little guy

after a while, they got all twisty

then they got picked

nice harvest

late summer

containers bursting with peppers, tomatoes, herbs, and flowers

pots of peppers



beautiful basil



rosemary



sage with water droplets



all comes together for some awesome salsa

pretty and fragrant lilies



row of morning glories against that blue sky



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and then the sunflowers bloomed



love the bright yellow against that blue sky

love how they twist and intwined

feels like you could just slide right in

just look at them so hard at work

the tomatoes and green beans ready to eat

something very satifying about eating what you grow yourself

That's the end of my self indulgent food porn for today.  I would love to hear from anyone who enjoys photographing their garden's success and harvest.  Is there anyone so obsessed? 

On to the newest thing . . . the hummingbirds.  Beware.