A year in photos: January – June


All but two of the photos in this post were taken with my iPhone and shared on Instagram. As my packs of Polaroid film have dwindled, and I gingerly experimented with the new Impossible Project film, it’s not surprising that most of this year’s images have been snapped with my phone. There are a lot of pro photographers out there who might sneer at this. I mean, how can I call myself a photographer if I never break out the big camera? It’s been over a year since I touched the Hasselblad, and my DSLR is practically a stranger to me. But here’s the thing: I consider myself a photographer because I have this compulsion to express myself in photographs. Because photography is my meditation. Photography and journalling are the two things that keep me sane, the familiar tools I have used all my life. So it doesn’t matter to me what camera I use to do that. I don’t need a zillion pixels because my images won’t be blown up to billboard size — the majority of them won’t be seen beyond my Instagram stream. I shoot for pleasure. To record the world around me. To remember. To relax. And I really do take photographs every single day — i just don’t share them all on Instagram because THAT would soon get annoying.

Speaking of… there’s been a lot of hand wringing over the new policies Instagram announced yesterday. I’m going to wait to see how it unfolds, because there’s always uproar when a social media site announces change — i’ve seen it happen so many times before, when the language used is misinterpreted and everyone is up in arms. Looking at the Instagram blog today it’s clear they are listening to feedback and clarifying what their intentions are. So i will wait and see. Because if my Instagram feed is full of advertsing i’d be less inclined to use it, obviously — I’d rather just pay to use the service and have no advertising at all — but it was clear to me that the language they used would cause confusion and it looks like they are addressing that. They still have time to make this right.

In the meantime, some photos from the first six months of this year…

February


March

April

 

May

 

June

 

On clarity, crapness & tiny flames

One of the hardest things about being on this personal development path is facing up to the truths about who you are. Just when you think you have it all figured out, something happens that makes you question all you thought you knew. Although that makes it sound like it’s a smooth process from something happens —> new realisation. How this usually goes down (for me, at least) is: something happens —> I feel like crap about it for months —> new realisation finally dawns.

I am not a particularly gregarious person. I can be chatty and animated when I feel at ease, but large groups of people make me want to run for the hills. This year I attended a conference with 1,000 people, a retreat with 80 people, another retreat with 50 people, I did book readings for groups of 20-30 people and co-lead a retreat in Morocco for 10 people. This is a lot of in-person stuff for an introvert who functions best on her own. What I learned was I am at my best with groups of no more than 30 people. Anything bigger than that and I feel utterly overwhelmed and have to slink away to decompress (add jet lag and PMS to that and I’m TOAST, as I discovered while in North Carolina in October. The place was beautiful and the people were lovely, but I was not at my best by a long shot).

I’ve been reading up on the traits of Highly Sensitive People, a term that’s been bandied around the blogosphere a lot recently. It’s like the introversion/extroversion thing — suddenly stuff is making sense for a lot of people. I’ve always been overly sensitive to stimuli — strong smells, bright light and loud or invasive sounds are particularly hard for me — but I always just thought I was a “bit fussy”. After a recent bout of (what i thought was) uncharacteristic anxiety, I started to add it all up. (Reading this article was my proverbial a-ha.) When I mentioned to Sas last week that I thought I might be an HSP she laughed and said ‘You think?’

Riiiight.

I turn 40 in February so there’s a lot of reflecting going on in my dimly-lit corner of the world. I feel very far away from the young woman I was at 30 let alone the girl I was at 20. I know myself so much better but that doesn’t mean I love myself so much better. There are pieces of my personality I’d change if I could. I don’t for a moment expect to be perfect all the time — ha! What a notion. No, I expect that I will be thoroughly imperfect most of the time, but within that I hope to do my best. And sometimes that means taking myself out of situations where I can’t BE my best. The older I get the less I’m striving for the Big Achievements. I don’t need to do a TED talk. I don’t yearn to be on a best-seller list. That all feels very external to me, when what I truly crave is peacefulness. Self-acceptance. A sprinkling of ease. A pinch of grace. And the ability to forgive myself when I screw up.

So I continue to practice: something happens —> I feel like crap about it for months —> new realisation dawns. Then something else happens —> I feel like crap about it for months —> new realisation dawns.

This HSP tag has brought some useful clarity with it. For years I thought it was my bereavement that made me so sensitive, but now I see that it’s just part of my make-up, like my blue eyes and flat feet. So I’m trying to accept that sometimes my overwhelm makes me seem aloof. That sometimes my awkwardness makes me appear unfriendly. That sometimes I feel another’s energy so acutely it makes it hard for me to be around them, let alone talk to them. Because I also know this sensitivity is why I arrange my books by colour, why I keep a bowl of perfume oils by my side when I write and why I could take a 1000 photographs a day, I see so much in this world.

I didn’t sign up for the easy path this time around. If you’re reading these words I’m guessing you know exactly what I mean. When I read about the heartbreaking things that have happened lately I stop for a moment and hug my loved ones in my heart. I try to let go of the fear of something happening to them, and I recommit — for probably the umpteenth time that day — to heal my hurts so I don’t pass them on. To nurture compassion for my self so i learn to have compassion for others. To shine my light even if it’s just a tiny flame. It’s the best I can do.

Something for the weekend

It’s fair to be disappointed by how you look :: wisdom from Kate

[video] This song is my new anthem (via Rachael)

Just bought one of Jane’s brooches and I love it

Slightly obsessed with Kevin Russ’s photography | a cute camera holster | iPhone cable trigger

Portraits of people who look alike but aren’t related at all | characters on British streets

Tiffany’s Love Letters are a sweet idea for 2013

Garlicky kale & white bean stew | posh cheeseburgers & quinoa fritters

When you feel lonely :: wisdom from Martha

Free moodboard calender for 2013 ( + my workbook & planner if you haven’t downloaded it yet ;-)

My London Story

100 words for snow (my fave is chachat meaning swirling snow that drives you nuts)

So pretty! I suddenly have the urge to go gather some leaves and press them

Sleeveface — love the Anthology versions

The Burning House book is out!

46 reasons why my three-year-old might be freaking out :: I love Jason

happy weekend, loves xo

Wish I may

It’s 12-12-12 and that means it’s a wishing day. Last time I did this was in 09-09-09 and looking back at the post I’m amazed by how many of those wishes have come to pass. There’s something to this gentle wishing thing… will you join me today?

I wish for a weekend of reading books. I wish for security. I wish for continued good health for my family. I wish for the perfect pair of jeans. I wish for a never-ending supply of instant film. I wish for a lover who’s brave, knows how to cook and wants to explore the world with me. I wish for silence. I wish for time to write my new book. I wish for a month in New York City. I wish for passionate kisses every single day. I wish for deepening friendships. I wish for upgraded hormones. I wish for forever cuddles with my nephew. I wish for a gingerbread latte. I wish for my own line of journals. I wish for soul trust. I wish for more London adventures. I wish for sunny days. I wish for a detached house in the countryside. I wish for free broadband. I wish for clarity. I wish for a full-time assistant. I wish for morning optimism.  I wish for an ever-expanding heart.

I wish for love.

What do you wish for?