The why of it, redux

This place has been silent for six long months.  I can see the dust in the corners and on the edges of the photos I’ve posted and left here.  The neglect was not purely intentional.  It started out, as always, with a simple “I’ll get to it later.”  But laters have a interesting, bold way of piling up until they teeter on the never, don’t they?

Excuses started piling up too — life is changing but I don’t want to discuss those changes in a public place or life is changing and I didn’t run that half-marathon and that’s a disappointment or simply, the dread, I just don’t wanna.

Really that last one wasn’t the case, I did wanna: but instead of taking the action, I spent time pushing away the need to write about my own life or loved ones’ lives and my feelings on all of it. That lead to a startled moment when I realized it wasn’t pushing away the need but instead I was boxing up that need, tamping down, using all my strength to make more room for what I was afraid to set free.  Then that space became so crowded with the unexpressed that I had to be careful not to even touch the sides of the box for fear I’d puncture it because even pin dot would allow the contents to spill out and I’d need to feel that unexpressed pain or joy or the out and out confusion.

Mainly I was scared that the unexpressed would cover my days in grays and blacks and browns.  And that as it wasn’t the way I saw my life therefore it wouldn’t be valid.

But in the tamping, in the tiptoeing, I forgot the important part of the colors in my world — you need those darker hues to shade things, give them nuance and a contrast.


Shading meant you had to dig a little below the surface, find the dimensions and explore them in order to make sense of them.  That sometimes a haze of gray or sepia is there to help me settle into reflection so that when that haze parts I’d be ready for vivid color once again.

And how did I remember that?  These days, my go-to way to re-embrace the world around me is snapping photos.  Then taking the time to add in the color I thought they missed.  photo (46)

Part of the changes in my life has meant living in the Pittsburgh area for a good deal of January.  From what I understand, Pittsburgh deals with grey clouds on a daily basis, but the first month of 2014 brought bitter cold along with the gray.  The permafrost didn’t just pertain to the air and the roads, but a kind of inner freeze that kept me rooted in a place I didn’t know without the back up of the things I loved.

Last Wednesday, while the cold stayed put, the clouds parted and the sun shone for most of the day.  I thought, the heck with it, just take a photo of winter, stepped out of my car and shot the photo above from the parking lot of our temporary home.

Back inside, I wanted the picture to reflect how I really saw the afternoon so I played with filters to pull the blue through, upped the contrasts and increase the coolness of the blue to come up with this:

IMG_1844It made me happy to translate what I saw into a vivid photo. It reminded me that a blog is a place to examine the events in my world and present them in ways that are vivid, vibrant and above all, valid.

And so we start anew.

9 Replies to “The why of it, redux”

  1. New beginning has a wonderful ring to it. I love this poetic expression of your transition journey. Your words and the photo captured the mood and the reality of change in your life. Thank you for sharing this journey. It helps me direct the internal dialogue around my own experiences.

  2. This reminded me of that quote from White Christmas: “You know how honesty needs a little plus? Well, sometimes fate needs a little push.”
    (Or maybe I’m thinking, “Vermont must be beautiful this time of year…all that snow.”)
    Thanks for the reflection.

  3. So happy to have this little corner of the interwebs active again. Missed you these past six months. Your words are like poetry for my soul and I really appreciate the layers and the depth of feeling contained within.
    New beginnings bring challenge, fear, excitement and great hope. It’s all about balance. When you figure it out you can clue me in. I don’t do that so well. 🙂

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