Category: humans being

No Regrets.

humans being, musings, On Art and Culture, wanderlust October 21, 2014

No Regrets

Regret is something I have no desire to cultivate.  To live life in the present, to be mindful, thoughtful, and deliberate… that’s the goal.  I don’t think most people go into something with the well-developed intention of hurting or taking from another.  I believe most people operate from a place of survival, and from that place it’s nearly impossible to make well-considered choices, let alone separate emotion from practical matters.  From survival there is no action, only reaction, the breeding ground for regret, if ego backs off long enough for regret to even take root.

Regret for missed opportunities?  One who got away?  A hare-trigger temper?  Not me.  What regret, then, do I have?  They say everybody has them… I suppose I regret the way I saw myself when I was younger… how many years I wasted feeling inadequate because I compared myself to others, instead of honoring what I bring to the table.  I regret giving myself away to people who could not appreciate me, instead of being patient and seeking out those who could, and then basing my own worth on the neglect of the broken.  That’s about my only regret. Any others I have attended to… apologies, incompletes…  I saw this tattoo on a woman’s forearm and asked what the English translation is.  “No regrets,” she said with a grin.

 

Josh.

humans being, musings, On Art and Culture December 17, 2013

Breaking Hearts

When I received Josh’s photo in advance of the job in Las Vegas, I was transported to my giddy schoolgirl years, because he was so cute, so “my type” of a younger year. Yes, another time indeed, when the pleasurable agony of a crush was merely fleeting, and weighed no more than lipstick kisses on a napkin.

In grade school, high school, and in college… we always looked forward, and life was fun.  This dance room at UNLV smelled like excitement and promise.  When I walked into the room and spotted the chalkboard, I remembered the seventh grade, when I was made to write repetitively as punishment for something that wasn’t my fault…

Sleepwalking.

humans being, musings, On Art and Culture, travel, wanderlust September 19, 2013

I travel alone  often so I can indulge my acute case of incurable wanderlust.  I disappear into new places and, more often than not, become hypnotized and aimless.  I sleepwalk, which is when my images find me.

I was on a solo walk with camera in Taos, NM this summer, wandering about in the last minutes of streaking golden sun, when this man called me over from his porch.  He offered that I may wander around his yard and take pictures if I’d like.  And he told me about his porch.  And how he sits on it every day.  And he was very proud of his house and that he deserves to sit on his porch every day.  And I noticed that he spoke in “I,” even though he wasn’t alone.

The other day I came across a Diane Arbus quote I really loved because it pointed me to the root of my drive, which I hadn’t really thought of, particularly not in this raw and primitive way.  She was a sleepwalker.

“I really believe there are things nobody would see if I didn’t photograph them.”  -Diane Arbus

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