
Lumix GX8 f/5.6 1/160s 32 mm

Lumix GX8 f/5.6 1/160s 32 mm

Lumix GX8 f/3.5 1/160s 24 mm ISO 3200
Visit Lost in Translation to participate in this week’s black and white challenge: from above

Nikon D750 f/5 1/320s 56 mm ISO 100

Lumix GX85 f/5.6 1/80s 30mm ISO 200

Lumix GX85 f/5.6 32mm 1/160s ISO 200

Listening’ to Noontime Tunes

Watching’ children at play

Nikon D750 f5.6 1/125s 24mm ISO100 Multi-Exposure
“And Summer Marches On” submitted in response to Leanne’s MM theme: movement… designed “to encourage people to do monochrome images, just for the madness of it”

Lumix f/6.3 1/200s 32mm 200 ISO

Nikon D750 f/5.8 1/30s 300 mm 100 ISO

Nikon D750 f/5.6 85mm 1/500s 100 ISO
The Fort Collins Municipal Railway operated streetcars in Ft Collins, Colorado from 1919 until 1951. The streetcar, Birney “Safety”, 21 is listed in the National Register of Historical Places and is currently operating during the spring and summer months.

Nikon D750 f/8 135mm 1/500s 100 ISO
submitted in response to Lost In Translation’s photo challenge
After receiving great news I often experience a desire to reach out to someone, anyone with whom to share, to celebrate. When life’s sorrows come to my door there is a yearning for someone…something with whom to connect with…to find a shared understanding that eases the confusion that wraps around grief; yet, a bit of courage is needed…to silence anxiety’s voice, “to speak of death is lose the listener you seek.”
My mother, Elberta, passed away on the 19th of April, 2016…6 days after her 89th birthday.
Since her passing, a number of popular culture icons also left this world…and I found myself, in response to the exhausting news coverage, whispering, “my mother died” as if this utterance would bring about a global moment of silence in which to honor both her life and death and to ease the aloneness that dwells within grief’s shadow.
One belief I have that has sustained me for many years is that to honor the lives of those who have gone is to keep them in the heart and be with others in such a way as to honor them. In an odd way…it’s like a unspoken desire to bring about…yes, a small bit of immortality.
I have read that one way (out of many) to walk alongside the grief and memories that come unbidden is found in the perspective that “in the days and weeks that follow a death especially for the first 49 days one can help the deceased’s mind/body by avoiding harming others, generating love and compassion, doing kind actions, making charity and specific
prayers and practices that their spiritual teachers recommend and dedicating this positive energy to the mind/spirit of the loved one, wishing only peace and happiness for them and rebirth in the presence of their God or Buddha.”
With this way of being with grief and loss in mind, I undertook a 100 day-blog project to honor my mother’s life. She loved photography, poetry, nature, needlepoint, and teaching others sign language. It is my hope that the images and words within this project reached out and touched the lives of others with a similar sense of awe that she often expressed as she witnessed the beauty and mystery of the world about us.
My work as a psychotherapist taught me about the healing components of art, especially its means of communicating what words alone cannot convey. Also, during a difficult period of time in my life, a co-worker would
send emails that included attached images of “aweness” and beauty. I came to realize that during those moments when I allowed myself to be opened to amazement my emotional self shifted from a negative state of mind to a place of equanimity…as if these images offered a safe harbor sheltering self from an emotional storm.
Thank you for joining me on this journey of 100 days…I hope you were gifted with a moment or two of “aweness”, contemplation, and/or equanimity as you wandered through the gallery of these writings and images.
you left,
I remained…
two springs.
From this day forward, I will be…
may we find peace.
You must be logged in to post a comment.