new york city | a love letter through the lens

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When things were harder, which is to say, I was less well and life was less full, I was so very good about carving out time and space each day to just be with myself. Doesn't that sound so or pretentious...I don't know. But I was so good about doing some things--that now as I look back--I realize those things are forms of meditation in their own rite. Because they quiet the mind and connect me to the truest, deepest part of myself (yeah, yeah, this whole thing is sounding spacey and cliche--but that doesn't make it any less true).


The Canon around my neck--the weight of it in my hands, I find that tremendously grounding.


So two mornings ago I rose extra early, threw on an easy sundress, my best pair of sunnies. And just walked. Camera in tow. Looked at the buildings and streets I see every day through more discerning eyes. And I clicked.


Because while I'm not a skilled photographer by any means, the act of it brings me round to myself.


Holding a camera. Seeking out new music. Stillness in the morning. Baths. Lit candles. Lattes. Writing. Always writing. These are the things that engage me with my life.


And just because the need for these things isn't as immediate as it once was, well it doesn't mean the need is any less (if that makes sense). And what this really means is, I sort of have to have a radical commitment to the simple things. To both my awareness and appreciation of them.