Tag: photo edit

Photo Collage | PhotoArt from the Creative Gathering

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As I wrote the date in my journal this morning, it hit me like a ton of bricks–we are about to enter the last month of the year. The last month! I slightly panicked about all the things I’d planned but didn’t and won’t get to before Christmas. Thankfully, I quickly adjusted. I cannot allow the unfinished business of the year to plague the last few weeks, especially since the deadlines are self-imposed and none of it is actually necessary.

That said, taking time to share beauty and light is always necessary, so this week, I’m opening my camera roll and creating collages of some things I’ve wanted to share, but have been too busy or too tired to do so.

Today’s long overdue post features the 30 pieces of photo-art I created for Sheila D’s September 30-day Gathering (the Gathering).  I went into the Gathering knowing only one thing: since I wanted to feel like a “real” artist, I would put some work into the photos and alter them using PhotoShop and/or other photo applications. After my third post, I decided to work in threes–that is, I would work with one theme or technique for three days and then select my favorite piece for each day’s post. This resulted in 10 themes/techniques for the month–which resulted in a bazillion photos (not exactly an exaggeration):

  1. Music
  2. Circles
  3. Purple Flowers
  4. DistressFx
  5. Sunflowers
  6. Purple and Red
  7. Purple Fractals
  8. Brushstrokes
  9. Textures
  10. Roses

I usually worked the photos in more than one app to achieve the desired results. I shared four of them on the blog in September, and maybe, I’ll get around to sharing the others–and some of the other 709 pieces I created during September. Yes, that is the exact number. Isn’t that close to a bazillion? 😉

I thoroughly enjoyed the Gathering. It provided time out from life’s vagaries and lots of free therapy! Unfortunately, that was the last time I took time to create art every day. In fact, that was the last period in which I consistently took time for creative fun and possibly the last time I could vouch for my own sanity!

You can get an overview of the full Gathering and a glimpse of the work of the other artists by checking out Sheila’s post featuring the Creative Gathering Group Gallery. There’s lots of wonderful eye candy for your soul!

Seven Favorites from World Watercolor Month | Faith and Butterflies

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Watercolor 30-2022

World Water Color Month 2022, Day 30 (July 30, 2022)

If I had to choose one favorite from the images I crafted for World Watercolor Month 2022, I think this Spice Bush Swallowtail would be the one. I worked this one on my father’s birthday as I thought about him and all the gifts he gave me. 

“Faith,” the poem below by Ullie-Kaye seems an appropriate fit for this butterfly, since the journey with grief is also a journey of faith. 

faith
ullie-kaye

faith does not begin where fear ends.
she comes when you are still lying in
the bottom of the gutter. hands trembling.
doubts running rampant. seas stormy.
breath insufficient. darkness winning.
thoughts blurring. skies fading. more black
than blue. obstructed view. no way through.
there. in the absence. in the tragedy.
in the emptiness. in the wreckage that made
its way into the very marrow of your bones.
in the fire that could not be drenched.
in the thirst that could not be quenched.
in the wounds that would not heal. in the
heart that could not feel. in the broken.
the lost. and surreal. that’s when she comes. 

I hope you enjoyed our seven-post trip into photo art and the beautiful words I encountered daily. 

WWCM 2022 Collage

Here’s a collage of the photo art posted for World Watercolor Month, including the three extra (butterflies) I posted on the blog (but not on Instagram). Do you have a favorite?

Seven Favorites from World Watercolor Month | Lightly, Go Lightly

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World Watercolor Month 2022, Day 6 (July 6, 2022)

It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. […] Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me […]. So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling, on tiptoes and no luggage, not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.  –Aldous Huxley, Island

Seven Favorites from World Watercolor Month | Variegated Fritillary [Butterfly] in Blue

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Watercolor 27-2022 wm

World Water Color Month 2022, Day 27 (July 27, 2022)

I heard many beautiful statements today. Interestingly, they all focused one way or another on compassion for others. My friend Lexi posted the quote below in her Instagram/Facebook stories today, and it aligned well with discussions in our work session. Kristen Corley’s wisdom in admonishing us to extend compassion to ourselves was the icing on the cake for all I heard today.

You’ve been through a thousand things in your life people don’t even know about. You’ve experienced things that have shook you, changed you, broke you, built you and taught you to be stronger than you ever thought you had the ability to be. And you are who you are for all of it. So the next time someone judges you based on a small part of what they see and how they interpret that, remember who you are, remember how much you’ve overcome and smile and keep walking because you don’t have a single thing to prove to anyone else. You’ve already proved so much to yourself[; you] muddled through storms that people didn’t even see because of how you carried yourself.  –Kirsten Corley

Happy Tuesday!

Sorrow | The Butterfly [Tattoo] Effect

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Butterfly-3 wm

I have been fixated on butterflies most of the week, reworking butterfly photos into watercolor photo art. I didn’t realize why until, while scrolling through my camera roll Thursday evening, I came across a picture of my son and parents that was snapped last summer. In the picture, I could clearly see most of my father’s butterfly tattoo. 

Ah! That explains it!

In addition to the intangible qualities and gifts, there are certain tangible items that I associate with my father. Among them are his ruby ring, his hearing aid, his jazz collection, and his butterfly tattoo. Only one of those was buried with him, and I was miserably grieved that I had never managed to intentionally photograph the tattoo while he was living–neither had my photographer brother nor any of the other photographers in the family!

The tattoo was simply a part of my father; he had gotten it when he served in the United States Air Force. It had been there all our lives—so we never thought about taking a snapshot. Until he was gone. I combed through image after image and could see parts of the tattoo, but never enough of it. Furthermore, the quality was diminished in attempting to enlarge any photo enough to really see the tattoo. Failing to capture the tattoo troubled me for weeks after his passing, till I finally convinced myself to let it go. I did so grudgingly and with the hope of eventually finding someone who had a good shot of that tat. 

I don’t know how I’d missed it in the photo referenced above! I think it was waiting to be found when I needed it most. With my father’s birthday approaching [today], I guess, the butterflies settled into my spirit and provided a way for me to connect with my father’s memory that was soothing for my soul.

Daddy Butterfly Tattoo wm

Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Matthew 5:4

Sorrow | Lessons from Grief

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Butterfly-2 wmLoss and grief are inevitable parts of life. We know this, but that doesn’t make it easier to manage. In fact, the inevitable is often a source of anxiety for some. Despite how ab-so-lute-ly awful it is, grief teaches us many lessons about life, love, and ourselves. Here are some of the lessons I’ve learned.

  1. Love is more powerful than we can ever find words for or even imagine. We continue loving long after the person is gone.
  2. Grief is a journey for one. Others may grieve the loss of the same person, but not the same loss. Every loss is personal and the journey to healing individual.
  3. There is no “getting over” a loss, but eventually the wound will heal. As with all wounds, there will be scars.
  4. Grief stays with us. It morphs and shape-shifts until it settles into our beings.
  5. Eventually, we learn to live with grief, but our hearts may never stop aching.
  6. The gaping, person-sized hole inside never gets filled. We miss the person for the rest of our days on earth, but mingled with the pain will be fond memories and laughter.
  7. It is important that we find space to express ourselves and talk about our loved ones.
  8. We should never apologize for grieving, even if it makes others uncomfortable.
  9. The Divine draws closer to us when we grieve (Psalm 34:18).
  10. We learn how to sit in the dark and still believe in Light.

What lessons have you learned from grief?

Photo Poem | A Blazing Light

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Light2 wm

I opened Facebook this afternoon to find a suggested post featuring Jeff Foster’s poem, “How I Became a Warrior.” I loved it instantly. It felt like an expanded version of Emily Dickinson’s “Pain Has an Element of Blank” (Poem 19). Whereas her poem speaks of the all-consuming nature of pain, Foster’s shows us how to embrace and move past pain, trauma, and darkness to get to the other side. His poem points the way toward Light. Foster and I probably have different definitions of Light [or the Source of Light], but that is the beauty of reading poetry. The author isn’t the only one who creates meaning. 

I integrated the last seven lines in the photo-art above. The full poem is below. I hope it fills your soul…

How I Became a Warrior
Jeff Foster

Once, I ran from fear
so fear controlled me.
Until I learned to hold fear like a newborn.
Listen to it, but not give in.
Honour it, but not worship it.
Fear could not stop me anymore.
I walked with courage into the storm.
I still have fear,
but it does not have me.

Once, I was ashamed of who I was.
I invited shame into my heart.
I let it burn.
It told me, “I am only trying
to protect your vulnerability”.
I thanked shame dearly,
and stepped into life anyway,
unashamed, with shame as a lover.

Once, I had great sadness
buried deep inside.
I invited it to come out and play.
I wept oceans. My tear ducts ran dry.
And I found joy right there.
Right at the core of my sorrow.
It was heartbreak that taught me how to love.

Once, I had anxiety.
A mind that wouldn’t stop.
Thoughts that wouldn’t be silent.
So I stopped trying to silence them.
And I dropped out of the mind,
and into the Earth.
Into the mud.
Where I was held strong
like a tree, unshakeable, safe.

Once, anger burned in the depths.
I called anger into the light of myself.
I felt its shocking power.
I let my heart pound and my blood boil.
Listened to it, finally.
And it screamed, “Respect yourself fiercely now!”.
“Speak your truth with passion!”.
“Say no when you mean no!”.
“Walk your path with courage!”.
“Let no one speak for you!”
Anger became an honest friend.
A truthful guide.
A beautiful wild child.

Once, loneliness cut deep.
I tried to distract and numb myself.
Ran to people and places and things.
Even pretended I was “happy”.
But soon I could not run anymore.
And I tumbled into the heart of loneliness.
And I died and was reborn
into an exquisite solitude and stillness.
That connected me to all things.
So I was not lonely, but alone with All Life.
My heart One with all other hearts.

Once, I ran from difficult feelings.
Now, they are my advisors, confidants, friends,
and they all have a home in me,
and they all belong and have dignity.
I am sensitive, soft, fragile,
my arms wrapped around all my inner children.
And in my sensitivity, power.
In my fragility, an unshakeable Presence.

In the depths of my wounds,
in what I had named “darkness”,
I found a blazing Light
that guides me now in battle.

I became a warrior
when I turned towards myself.

And started listening.

Photo Poem | Cry Wild

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Cry Wild Red

Last week when my bestie asked how I was doing. I told her, “I am out of words. I need to howl.” So, we howled. Via text message.

Howl

There has been so much talking lately. So many words. Too many wrong words. Words that divide. Words that hurt. Words that maim. About five years ago—when the global noise had escalated unbearably—I shared the words of a former student, “the world needs a little silence.” 

I think we’re at that point again.

We need less words. Less commentary. Less opinions. Less arguing and defending. Less reacting. We need healing words. I realized this as I was reading Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” last night. The length, weight, and relevance of that piece made it intolerable for this moment. Though I indeed feel like “howling,” nayyirah waheed’s poem, “break,” more aptly captures what is needful.

cry wild.
you have probably never cried wild.
but, you know what doors
feel like.
you have
an intimacy with doors
that is killing you.

–break, nayirrah waheed, salt

The losses are mounting. The grief is heart-shattering, but our tears are restrained.

We must unleash them. We must break.

We must break to heal.

Two Poems for Your Monday

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Agape Review published two of my poems last week (yay!), so I’m dropping in to share them with a just little background on both.

Unlike the Musings from My Younger Self I share far too infrequently, these poems were written in my adult years.

I wrote “Word Made Flesh” in 2017 after an exchange with a student in which we talked through the intense grief of losing our sisters. A third student entered the conversation halfway through and offered comfort and her own insights on life and grief. Though the interaction occurred four years after my sister [Karlette’s] death, it was the first time I had ever expressed my feelings over the loss so vulnerably. The title of the poem comes from John 1:14:

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.

The second poem, “God, You Are,” was written about 20 years ago. I scribbled it on a notecard and tucked it inside one of my journals. I rediscovered it a year or two ago, typed it, and added it to my “works in progress” poetry folder with the intention to tweak it. However, I made a split second decision to submit the unpolished version of the poem because that raw expression felt poignant in the moment.

Click the links below to read each poem:

Feel free to leave a comment there or come back here and comment. I look forward to your feedback!

About the Image: The photo art above features a moment of solitude and reflection at Green Mountain this past weekend. If time and energy permit, I’ll share more photos later in this week.