the estes blues

despite a rocky, sleepless start, this trip has bestowed the peace and nourishment and space i had envisioned coming here. and i find that the layered colors of the mountains, the deep frame of the skies, and the cold depths of  the ice hold all the bitter and sweet blues of a vacation that has passed its halfway point.   

{for the first time in a long time, words seem reluctant to come to me tonight so i will let the colors speak on their own.}

...................................

estes nights

a grandfather clock is an insomniac's worst nightmare. when i can't sleep at night, the last thing i want to know is the time. how much has passed. how much is left before the sun comes up. before i have to wake up again. before i have to face the world and a day dragging my feet still planted in the hours behind me that should have been spent asleep. but in the stately presence of my grandfather's grandfather clock, every quarter hour is accounted for. every restless series of turns pulling one more chime into its wake, notifying me, unequivocally, of the time.

but the night is brilliant outside my loft – the mountains visible under tonight's half-full moon and a star moves quietly in the center of the black rectangle of window. the star shimmers and shifts under my gaze – refreshingly optimistic, reassuring me in her sweet and playful dance. this is a lighter kind of comfort than what was bestowed a few nights ago during a run that drove me deep into old heart ache. i was under a clear sky and a thin sliver of a moon that was reassuring in a way no human being has ever been for me. so full and clear and wise despite her crescent spareness. so soft. so certain. god, that certainty hurts me in all its hope and strength.

i recall exactly when the night sky began speaking to me. just a little over a year ago on my flight to paris when it delivered not only a shooting star and aurora borealis, but a clear message of truth and hope as well. i only pray the message, constant since that first streak across the sky, is correct.

estes park, colorado

in july of 2008 i spent a few days, maybe a week, at my aunt and uncle's house in estes park, colorado. i went to step outside of my life and away from distractions, to find peace and quiet and free time, and to have some mental space to do research on grants for the project that has now become sieve. 

grants applications really didn't happen {i remember feeling guilty about it at the time not knowing that a thing called kickstarter would eventually come to my aid}. however, in a spontaneous and unpredictable twist, the time i spent there was when this blog really took off. giving myself an abundance of sleep and free time, i found i really wanted to write. so i did. even if i didn't know about what, exactly. and the writing started me on a path that years later would be a central element not only in creating sieve, but in attracting my collaborator, andrew, to my work.

in just a few days, just about four and a half years later, i return, last minute and urged by some drive of spontaneity and adventure. i bring with me my writing, my short film, and my future – all things i need to sit down with and sort out. i go to find places for things. take steps forward with others. end the ongoing battle to decide how much or how little a role my life as a professional photographer will play in my future. edit my film. cook. breathe. run. play. last time the summer suns shone down on tank top garbed hikes. this time, the winter cold will nip at my exposed face and welcome me out for snowy hikes.

this feels right in such a beyond-logic-and-understanding sort of way and i am here. ready. patient. happy.

two iphone photos from last trip when the sun was warm and close.

 

the 86 year old

my resolution to reach a reconciliation between heart and mind {and perhaps even toss out the heart altogether for a bit} didn't last a week. hardly a day. i cannot live with anything but my heart first and forward-most. it was silly of me to make threats and consider otherwise.

but something needed/needs to change and all i can think to do is seek advice from the 86 year old version of myself – the weathered, sweet woman who has seen the world, lived it in, loved it best, and learned to soften the voices inside her head long ago. she is the one i turn to these days when uncertainty stares me down and fears fester inside me. she is kind and patient and smiles often with this knowing look that hurts my heart to think too much about – hurts because she can look back at me, at this person i often struggle so hard to find, and appreciate the work i'm doing for her, and in turn, give me back a little of the wisdom i'm slowly uncovering that she's steeped in for years.

thank you my friend, mother of my children, keeper of my future. you make my present clearer.

the lists of 2012

2012 Concerts

• radiohead {x3}
• m83
• zoe keating
• hilary hahn & hauschka
• the xx
• sigur ros
• beirut
• macklemore
• brother ali
• shabazz palaces & THEESATISFACTION

2012 travels

• paris
• vienna
• ilz
• venice
• rome
• dublin
• killarney
• galloway
• vancouver, bc {x2}
• st. louis, mo
• kansas city, mo
• dallas, tx {x2}
• portland, or {x3}
• washington dc
• moneta, va
• santa barbara, ca
• bend, or
• bayou la batre, al
• orcas island, wa

2012 MOVIEs

• christmas vacation
• the hobbit
• star trek
• star trek: the search for spock
• star trek: the wrath of khan
• mission: impossible 3
• back to the future 3 {while editing photos}
• back to the future 2 {yes, you read right}
• slumdog millionaire
• lincoln
• cloud atlas
• perks of being a wallflower
• skyfall {x2}
• quantum of solace
• casino royale
• the dark knight rises
• moonrise kingdom
• --------------
• SIFF 2012:
• grassroots
• killer joe
• badlands
• people like us
• beasts of the southern wild
• keyhole
• shorts festival closing night
• safety not guaranteed
• sleepwalk with me 
• the do-deca pentathalon 
• the avengers {not SIFF....shhh don't tell the festival}
• camilla dickenson
• eden {go. see. it!}
• your sister's sister
• --------------
• solaris {original russian version}
• the descendants
• there will be blood 
• pina
• perfect sense
• sherlock holmes
• heima

today

there are some days you cannot account for. they cannot be predicted, premeditated, or contained. they find you, usually when you need them most. they are the gift of a sign. an extra sweetness. a hug held longer and tighter to remind you that the world is okay. your life is okay. you, you are okay. more than okay, actually, because the day takes you to a place so far beyond okay. a place where you are free and spontaneous and true, soaking in the expanse of land and sky and life around you.

today...

today was one of those days. 

and here at the end, as it wanes to a close, i am left so tired and so full. especially my heart. a huge piece of me so recently squeezed dry, tonight it rests soft and satiated. and try as i might, i can't really account for the gift of this day. i certainly didn't predict or premeditate it, but here in this humble collection of words and images and phrases, i will try my sleepy best to contain it. the day. the beauty. the fresh, clean snow. a new day. a new year. a new direction. a new start. 

today was just one of those days.