retinal perspectives

ice sculptures

i have to laugh because my snow photos are lasting much longer than the snow itself.

a sense of trust, volume 8

{my attempt to capture 52 photos that represent trust - my word for 2011}

i am discovering that for me, trust is very related to flow. i block my flow because i forget how to trust. i think i need to be able to see the whole path - all its twists and turns - to make sure it ends up at the little cabin in the woods before i can take a single step. of course, with most paths, you need to take that next step before you can see more of what's around the bend.

in the morning, there was snow

in the afternoon, there was none. well, very little.

now, winter can be over.

(though i do like the hush in the air after it snows. the world seems to fall silent.)

offering up a prayer

can you see the (very faint) heart?

in moments when i want to do so much, the little i can do seems so insufficient. and yet i am reminded that everything matters.

the dog resigned himself to life in front of a lens

whether he was near or far, turned toward it or away from it, no matter how quickly he moved his head or body, it seemed to always be there. watching. waiting. it was a most peculiar thing.

(though he did notice that if he came really really close, it backed away quickly.)

sunshine & shadows

one of the things i learned during ten years of working in high-tech (and five years of a degree in computer science before that) was how to sit in front of a computer for hours and hours and hours no matter how much my body ached.

and oh, how it did. i saw the nurse once or twice at work, spent lots of time trying to make my computer setup more ergonomically friendly, but nothing ever really made a difference. eventually, the pain became such a constant presence that i didn't even notice it anymore.

unfortunately (or fortunately), now that i am learning to listen to my body, it is awfully clear when it hurts. (which makes me wonder how on earth i managed to ignore it before - and occasionally wonder if i can get back to that again, for which thought i apologize to my poor abused body.)

for months, it has been very apparent that my back still does not like extended computer time. by extended, it seems to be opposed to more than 15 minutes of sitting at a time. i have been noticing the pain, but not responding to it, because 15 minutes seems like practically no time at all. (to be fair, all i might have to do is get up and move and stretch for a minute or two but it's hard not to see that as very inefficient and a waste of time.) well, what ends up happening is that my back seizes up more and more quickly and i go through long bouts where i really can't be on the computer much at all.

last week, my body asked me to retreat. finally, i agreed, and spent the weekend resting and (mostly) off the computer. it was so lovely on saturday that i took atlas to alberta to wander the neighborhood and take photos of sunlight and shadows and drink hot chocolate. (the hot chocolate was for me. atlas got dog treats and a new collar and lots of love.)

after the weekend of rest, my back feels so much better. i think i am finally ready to learn how to listen and respond to it as i go throughout my day. wish me luck.

by the way, if you have been wanting to learn to listen to your body and are in need of a guide, there's still a bit of time to sign up for my february special of a taste of the festival of love and attention. if the timing is right, and the offer resonates, i'd love to see you there. either way, here's to more love and attention for all our bodies!

a sense of trust, volume 7

{my attempt to capture 52 photos that represent trust - my word for 2011}

a reminder to me that trust doesn't necessarily come in an instant. it can grow little by little, moment by moment, and become stronger with each occurrence.

dancing and turning

"Inside the needle's eye a turning night of stars"

- Rumi

time does pass, and speedily too

i generally feel like i've been the same age forever and ever, or possibly that i'm actually growing younger, so i forget that time does pass. until those random moments when something reminds me.

like writing a birthday on my calendar and realizing that someone i still remember/think of as a baby is actually, oh, 20.

or remembering that i took myself to italy for my 25th birthday and realizing that that trip was, oh, almost 9 years ago. (which means that it's been almost 16 years since i graduated from high school. craziness!)

goodness. time really is passing.

my beloved furry

a wordless weimaraner wednesday

(and yes, i do call him that)