[Before I begin: I've always hated the telephone, except from about 7th to 10th grade, when it was somehow exciting to talk about nothing much on the phone with my friends. I think of my cell phone now as my smallest camera, and for that, I'm VERY grateful. It's also helped me on more than a couple of occasions when I had car mishaps or minor emergencies. But for the most part, I still don't like phones of any kind.]
What did we do way back then, before cell phones? (Or B.C.P, as today's texters might put it?)
We got lost--a lot. But eventually, we found our way. Usually with a rumpled map from the glove compartment and perhaps a nervous prayer.
We read with real paper pages to touch and to turn. Sometimes we got paper cuts. (Those were the worst!)
If we wanted something new to read, we went to the public library and wandered around in the quiet stacks that smelled (wonderfully) of very old books.
If we didn't know the meaning of something, we looked it up in Webster's or the Encyclopedia Brittanica, or we'd ask the librarian to help us find a book about it. She used the Dewey Decimal System, scribbling cryptic notes on little scraps of paper and leading us to our book like a mother duck guides her ducklings along a pond.
If we wanted to take a picture, we'd dig out the Kodak Instamatic, check if it had enough film, and hope the picture would come out the way we intended. We'd hope "the people at the lab" would develop our pictures soon and send them back to us, a thick envelope in the mail amidst the handwritten letters.
There were many awkward moments while waiting in long lines, staring up at the ceiling or pretending to think about our private concerns instead of our discomfort at standing so close to complete strangers. Occasionally, we might glance at them and say "good morning", or make a trite comment about the weather, or laugh about how men never had to wait in line for restrooms.
We thought our own thoughts instead of jumping from news flash to news flash about celebrities making questionable decisions.
Nobody took selfies. Daily self-portraits would have involved tripods and a rather embarrassing amount of vanity. We took photos of family vacations and random objects that did not include what we were eating for lunch.
We noticed our surroundings more, and things moved slower, although they didn't seem slow at the time because there wasn't anything to compare to it. The rest of the world stayed in the distance, like Mars or the Big Dipper--there, but very removed from us.
We played cards and board games and went outside to look for neighborhood kids who were also outside and wanted to play kickball or hide-and-seek. There was no such thing as a "playdate" pre-arranged by moms. Kids rang doorbells instead and asked if their friends could come out to play. Parents stayed inside and did parental things, or worked on their gardens.
Barbie Dolls were all the rage. So were tree houses.
We watched shows on TV sets that had wire antennae, channels on dials, and no remote controls.
If we wanted to play video games, we went to an arcade or to the cool kids' houses who had Atari systems in their finished basements. It was more of a loud social gathering, and potato chips were usually involved. Occasionally, a mom would come downstairs, proffering cookies and "checking on things."
For music, we played vinyl records on turntables, and we had to place a needle precisely onto a groove to get to the song that we wanted to hear. Sometimes, we missed the mark and gritted our teeth at the terrible scratching sound.
At restaurants, people who dined together actually spoke to each other and looked at each other. We glanced at the people around us at other tables, who were immersed in their own conversations.
We took long walks unencumbered by devices. We were unreachable for the duration of the walk. Imagine having to wait until you arrived home to call somebody! We turned a rotary dial instead of tapping out the numbers like a magician.
Imagine fishing around in the bottom of your purse or your pocket for a dime (usually covered in lint and gum wrappers) to put into the public telephones (which were often gross).
Imagine a whole day at the beach, undisturbed by the world outside the beach.
Imagine going to sleep and really going to sleep, not surfing around the world to follow petty stories from your pillow.
I am showing my age for sure, but in many, many ways, I miss life before cell phones.
Today I am writing you a permission slip, if you think you really need it. (You don't).
It's your ticket to letting yourself relax, care less about what some people think of you, and notice more of the world right outside your door.
Because sometimes, that means looking like the crazy neighbor.
You know, the one who is lying flat down on the front lawn to take a picture of a ladybug climbing on a blade of grass, when the other neighbors are driving off to work, hunched over in their cars, disapproving scowls aimed in your direction. Or maybe they're just immersed in their own worries or petty miseries, too caught up in their personal dramas to notice you lying flat down on the front lawn.
Maybe that lady who is joylessly tugging her dog down the street will see you--the one who is yelling into her cell phone at somebody who needs a good chewing-out. Maybe she will stop mid-sentence to wonder what on earth you are doing. Or maybe (very likely) she'll be too wrapped up in her own concerns to notice you.
Because that's another important thing you learn as you get older and wiser: Not everybody is watching you.
And even if a few of them are...so what?
(Really. So what?)
Is it worth missing a once-in-a-lifetime picture of a seemingly supersonic hummingbird barely one foot away from you? If you run inside and put on "proper clothes", that hummingbird will be long-gone by the time you re-emerge.
Go ahead, be that eccentric fellow who is wearing his bathrobe outside as he walks around barefoot in the grass, sipping his coffee and admiring the clouds. The one who notices there's a hawk soaring way up high, drifting effortlessly on the ever-so-slight breeze that barely ruffles the leaves.
Be the wacky neighbor who climbs up into the kids' treehouse while the kids are off at school. (A treehouse is a great place to read a good book.)
I hereby give you permission to whisper "hi there" to a squirrel who has stopped mid-scamper, wondering who you are and what you're doing out here in the yard in your pajamas. Shouldn't you be back inside, scrubbing a pot or folding some laundry? Nope, not right now. There's a squirrel who is three feet away from you, head cocked to the side in wonder. Take this moment to gaze right back.
Be that nutty neighbor who saves a beetle by flipping it back over and watching it fly away until it's only the tiniest speck in the big blue sky.
Shed your veneer of cool; let go of the need to be "normal."
You don't want to miss this one and only moment.
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Before you go...
LAST CALLand just a few spots left for my brand-new online photography course "Beyond Auto Mode: How to Really Work Your DSLR Camera." Join students from around the world--class starts this Monday, June 13, 2016.For all the course details and registration, click here.
I'm so happy to tell you that my "globe-trotting friend" Michael Graziano is back from another extraordinary adventure abroad and once again, he's very kindly letting me share it with you here! If you've been reading this blog for a while, then you already know that Michael shared his amazing trip to Hawaii and his picture-perfect trip to New Zealand. This time, he headed off for three months to Thailand, with a side trip to Cambodia, and his pictures (taken with his trusty iPhone) are just as jaw-droppingly beautiful as ever!
At this point, you might be wondering, "How on earth does this guy afford all of these awesome adventures that go on for months? Is he a millionaire or what?!" Well, first of all, he's working for room & board during these "vacations." But I love the real reason he's traveling the world: A dear friend who was his elementary school teacher in Connecticut passed away and left him an inheritance (she had no children), divided with two other former students whom she'd kept in touch with through the years. In elementary school, she taught Michael how to make a pinhole camera. It seems so poetic and poignant that all of these years later, he's using her generous and extraordinary gift to take once-in-a-lifetime pictures of the world far and wide.
The following quotes are Michael's updates from Facebook, and all of the photographs in this post are his, taken with his iPhone (all used with his kind permission, of course!).
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January 13, 2016: "Day 3 at the New Life Foundation outside of Chiang Rai. We are awoken by a quiet gong at 6:00 am each day for meditation or yoga at 6:30. I completely slept through it the first day. The morning mist is quite magical and worth waking up for."
January 14, 2016: "I will teach my first yoga class in Thailand early tomorrow morning in this open air pavilion. We face the east looking out over the garden so the class can watch the sun rise."
January 16, 2016: "On Sunday, there is no formal meditation or yoga so I was able to sleep today until the glorious hour of 6:45 am. The mornings and evenings are chilly with temperatures falling into the 50's but the days are warm and sunny, reaching the 80's in the late afternoon. It is quite extraordinary how being somewhere tropical in the winter elevates my mood. It's as if my base level happiness switch is raised by 50 percent."
January 20, 2016: "Every morning we are required to do a couple of hours of working meditation which is mostly physical work, such as gardening, making mud bricks, building houses--done a bit more slowly and mindfully."
January 22, 2016: "I love this little island in the lake on the property here, and especially the lone brave tree on it standing guard."
January 23, 2016: "Sending some late afternoon sun and warmth from Thailand to my East Coast friends in another Snowmageddon."
January 26, 2016: "We've had a couple of days of solid rain and cold, very unusual for Thailand. Buildings don't have any heating because it's a tropical climate so everyone is bundled in several layers of clothes, hats and gloves or wrapped in blankets, even indoors. The daytime high was only 48 degrees. Just a couple of days ago it was 85 degrees."
January 28, 2016: "It's the last sunset before going silent for a week starting tomorrow. I am joining a 7-day insight meditation retreat with about 30 others. I've thought about doing a vipassana retreat like this for the last couple of years. It's held in silence the entire time so no talking, no texting, no emailing, no Facebook until February 6th."
February 6, 2016: "Morning has broken and the silence is broken. The silence was relatively easy, the meditation less so. Sometimes the body ached, sometimes the mind wouldn't stop moving, other times I got sleepy or bored. But my senses were incredibly heightened and there were some strong moments of clarity, release and insight. I am glad I can now talk again!"
February 6, 2016 (later): "It continually surprises me who I most connect with on my travels. Jessy and Olivia are 20-year-old students from China. We had lots of laughs here before they returned to Shanghai. They had never done lip syncing before so I taught them how and we performed together at an open mic. They had never heard of Motown so we did "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" by Diana Ross and The Supremes. And yes, we sang into spoons. Things are very low-tech in rural Thailand."
February 10, 2016: "I am fascinated by the yellow silk cotton trees that line the property. They have no leaves so looking at them in silhouette, they appear almost dead. But their branches are covered with buds of flowers that blossom after hitting the ground. These are used to create the mandalas that appear every day before the morning community meeting."
February 14, 2016: "On Saturday I left the countryside for the city of Chiang Rai, about a half hour song tau ride away. Visited local temples. Went to the night market. Ate interesting local foods. And bought some Thai pants to teach yoga in."
February 20, 2016: "Took a field trip this afternoon to the kitschy White Temple. Michael Jackson, Elvis and Batman are included on the shrine walls inside. Over-the-top!"
February 22, 2016:"I begin another silent meditation retreat today. This one is only 5 days long. So no speaking, reading, listening to music, emailing, texting or Facebook until next weekend. Namaste."
February 27, 2016:"I have just finished my second silent meditation retreat in a month. This one was easier to slip into coming just two weeks after the last one. Lots of psychology and neurobiology included in the dharma talks this time. And it was led by two folks from Dharma Punx NYC. Interesting to make a connection with people from my own backyard across the world in Thailand."
February 29, 2016: "The vegetable garden here is bordered by annual flowers. About 60 percent of the food we eat is grown on property."
March 3, 2016: "The light over the nearby lakes is beautiful just after sunset. Reminds me of one of my favorite songs by Jonatha Brooke and The Story."
In the gloaming, oh my darling When the lights are soft and low And the quiet shadows falling Softly come and softly go
When the trees are sobbing faintly With a gentle unknown woe Will you think of me and love me As you did once long ago?
March 5, 2016: "Visiting the city of Chiang Mai for the weekend. No, the monks are not praying. They are on their mobile devices. Even in Thailand. I miss the rotary phone."
March 8, 2016: "Only one day left for me at New Life Foundation. One last yoga class to teach. One last morning meeting where I'll say goodbye to new friends. It's been a wonderful experience. Next up is Cambodia."
March 10, 2016: "Made it to Cambodia where it is dog-days-of-summer hot. Well over 100 degrees."
March 13, 2016: "Got up at 4:30 this morning to meet my tuk-tuk driver, Hooch, to watch the sunrise over the largest religious monument in the world, Angkor Wat, built in the 12th century by one of the kings from the Khmer Empire. It was impossible to get a photo capturing its grandeur. Angkor Wat is considered the 7th man-made wonder of the world. Built in the classical style of Khmer architecture, it is surrounded by a huge moat, covers over 500 acres, rises almost 700 feet and took 30 years to build. Being here, it's hard to imagine it was built almost 1,000 years ago."
March 14, 2016: "I visited the Bayon Temple which sits in the middle of the ancient Kmher city of Angkor Thom, which had over one million inhabitants during the Middle Ages at the time when the population of London was just 50,000. Built in the late 12th or early 13th century, it represents the baroque style of Khmer architecture as opposed to the classical style of Angkor Wat. Its signature is more than 200 huge smiling faces which appear at the top of the towers."
March 15, 2016: "I visited the picturesque Ta Prohm temple outside Siem Reap. Built in the late 12th century, it is one of the few temples that's been left in the same condition as when it was found, with trees growing out of the ruins and roots holding up walls."
March 17, 2016: "I have left Cambodia and its incredible temples and kind people and returned to Thailand. Just took a long tail boat to Railay Beach where I will be for the next couple of days."
March 21, 2016: "I went hiking in Ko Lanta National Park this morning. After climbing down to the beach in the photo below, I found Scottish friends Nicky and Martin sitting on a swing. Such a sweet surprise--I didn't even know they were here! After hellos and hugs, they gave me a bottle of water to quench my thirst. The beach monkey below had other ideas and decided it belonged to her."
March 22, 2016: "I am loving watching the Thai monkeys on the rocky beach."
March 26, 2016: "Easter Sunday. Got up early. Watched the sun rise over the bay at low tide."
March 27, 2016: "There is almost always a boat nearby the Thai beaches where I've spent the last couple of weeks. Headed to the mountains and jungle of Koh Sok National Park today."
March 31, 2016: "To celebrate my birthday, I took a ride on an elephant and took a ride in a boat to spend the night in a floating bungalow on Chian Lake. The bungalow was bamboo. The boat was wood. The elephant was named Cell Phone."
April 3, 2016: "The lotus flower represents spiritual rebirth in Buddhism. Growing out of the dark mud representing suffering, it emerges clean and beautiful representing enlightenment. A lovely metaphor and I'm always happy to see these flowers each day in Thailand."
April 3, 2016: "I am coming up on my final days in Thailand. My travels last year in New Zealand and Hawaii were a mid-life attempt to let go of things that weren't serving me anymore. This year's journey was about looking at what I want to keep and develop as I enter the next life phase. I didn't find all the answers but I feel I'm closer, so it's a good time to head back. Still, I am anxious. New York City, as stimulating and wonderful as it is, can be a hard and dark place, especially during times of transition. Better soak up the light here while I can."
April 5, 2016: "Heading to Bangkok today. Sleep for a few hours. Then an early plane back to NYC. A few long travel days. I hope to keep up the yoga teaching as I look for a full-time job upon my return. I love working with beginners and with people who think their bodies "can't do yoga." Small group classes at my apartment and private sessions to start. Off to the taxi to the boat to the plane..."
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Well, I don't know about you, but I feel a LOT more relaxed after that vicarious trip to Asia. Thanks so much, Michael, for letting me share your beautiful and always thoughtful adventures!
I woke up this morning just before 4:30--not on purpose, but I didn't go back to sleep. It was still dark outside; not even the birds were up yet. A perfectly quiet house, almost surprising in its stillness.
"We come to see that stillness and silence form the backdrop of our lives and that everything else is just passing through. Sounds come and go, sensations come and go, emotions, all of them traveling through stillness and silence like fish moving through an eternal ocean or weather traveling across an eternal sky."
His words and the early, lightless morning were in contrast to something I'd written recently in one of my ongoing work/life journals, about how rarely we let ourselves think our own thoughts. Instead, we scurry from one thing to the next. Soundbites, tweets, and relentless updates fill up our hours. News of the world far and wide inserts itself into our days, when what we really could benefit from is silence. A pen or pencil poised above our own blank pages.
I can't wrap up this post by saying that I have the magical answer for how to find the silence and stillness, because my own days seem to be whirling faster and louder lately. All good things, but nonetheless, life is hardly a Buddhist retreat right now. My friend Michael has been in Thailand since January and has had two separate weeks of silent meditation. No speaking, no reading, no music, and certainly no news or social media. The mere idea of it seems very close to heaven. (Well, I'm not so sure about the "no reading" part, but the rest of it: yes!)
Perhaps I need to get up earlier more often, to meet the quiet day before the noise begins.
My next online photography course starts this Sunday. Join me for The Charm of Children: How to Take Better Photos of Babies and Kids. Think of it as two precious weeks to really, truly focus on the little ones in your life, before they're not so little anymore. (Spaces are limited; I've got a handful left. No fancy camera necessary--you can even use your smart phone. Detailshere).
"These days run away like horses over the hill..."
That's the line of a song* I tuned right into this morning, singing it to myself without even realizing I was singing, in the middle of racing thoughts and making plans. It's from those modern-day poets, Bono and The Edge.
I'd spent the morning flittering about, checking in on students, planning new courses, and spilling tea (thankfully cold) on the poor dog, who had been peacefully sleeping next to me as I worked. (She forgave me, as dogs always do, and curled up for further napping.)
It was the song accompanied by the morning light that made me pause. Not bright sunlight, but soft light, which I prefer. I don't mind overcast days; they're a photographer's friend, giving everything "the old Dutch look" of Vermeer and Rembrandt. The Dutch Golden Age painters were among my favorites to study in Art History 101. They really knew how to capture the quiet moment.
This is happening a lot lately: I'll look up from a racing mind to see something so peaceful and utterly gorgeous, it almost startles me. Perhaps it's the "occasional gorgeous shock" (as Anne Lamott called it first). Whatever it is, I'm thankful that it makes me simply stop and take note of the fleeting moment.
I think that's why I've been arranging so many still lifes lately. There's an inherent mindfulness, a soothing peacefulness, in arranging things for pictures. It's just me, my camera, and ordinary objects, working together to create a visual song.
VERY GOOD NEWS for those of you trying to capture the precious and fleeting moments with your children or grandchildren: Enrollment is now OPEN for my next online photography course, "The Charm of Children: How to Take Better Photos of Babies and Kids." Click here for all the details and registration. (Spaces are limited.)
I just celebrated one of those "big" birthdays--you know, one with a zero at the end of it.
Thankfully, I still feel like I'm 32 (I think I've felt 32 since senior year of high school!), so it wasn't all that traumatic. It was exactly my kind of birthday because I spent it doing all kinds of my favorite things, without even one dreary chore or one ounce of guilt mixed in. Just pure, simple pleasures. If that sounds like your kind of birthday, too, help yourself to this recipe for celebrating. (Feel free to make your own substitutions, according to taste.)
1. Head outdoors first thing in the morning, camera in hand. (If you know me, you already know I'm fascinated by bugs, so it was an extra bonus for me to capture a company of ants having a meeting deep within the petals of a Rose of Sharon blossom.)
2. When somebody (for instance, your eight-year-old daughter) asks you what you'd like for your birthday, answer "Just a hug, please." Melt with love when she brings you a surprise homemade breakfast of three pieces of toast cut out into the letters H-U-G, decorated with wild blueberry preserves (my favorite!) and fresh blueberries. (Seriously, how cute is that?!)
3. After breakfast, read a good book on the porch. (A Path with Heart by Jack Kornfield is chock-full of wisdom for living a more meaningful and mindful life. I'm underlining like crazy!)
4. If you're not much of a cake person, have ice cream cones instead. Preferably, with lots of sprinkles (or jimmies, or shots, or whatever you call those little candy toppings in your neck of the woods).
6. Take one of your favorite people with you to one of those little shops where you can paint your own pottery while chatting and listening to more good music.
7. End the day eating dinner with your favorite people in the world, (which is hopefully your family), preferably at a Mexican restaurant (which always feels like a fiesta). Get just a little bit tipsy on frozen strawberry margaritas, so that you can't take a proper photograph of the event. Pretend you were aiming for "an artsy shot" instead.
8. Tuck into bed, completely grateful for the day and all of the simple but wonderful things it held out to you.
How 'bout you? How do you celebrate your big birthdays? I'd love to hear!
My eight-year-old daughter has become quite the philosopher lately. Yesterday, after the rain ended abruptly on our drive home from her summer acting camp, I said to her, "Look at that--the rain stopped all of a sudden!" She said, "Mommy, everything is an all-of-a-sudden. Life is an all-of-a-sudden. New things just keep on happening."
I have to admit that I peeked into the rear-view mirror to check if my daughter had been replaced by a mini Zen Buddhist. Nope. It was still her in the back seat, gazing up dreamily at the clouds.
She's become more and more fascinated with clouds this summer. Especially the way they can morph so quickly from a dinosaur to a fancy lady to a rocket ship. From one to another, all of a sudden.
The dog is also a real pro at noticing even the tiniest changes. She's always on alert for new and fascinating things. So much to see, so much to smell, so many bees to try to eat.
My daughter and dog make quite a team as excellent observers of the world. I think it helps that neither one uses a cell phone.
When you're out with a camera, everything can seem new. Even the littlest things can spark an almost scientific interest, like this teeny-tiny green spider pictured above, crawling around near the top of the weed. I didn't even see it when I started focusing on the weed, and then, there it was. All of a sudden.
With my camera, my dog, and my wide-eyed daughter, I'm noticing the "all-of-a-suddens" even more. And I'm grateful. As always.
P.S. Last weekend to sign up! My online photography course starts this Monday, July 6, 2015. It's already a wonderful group of students from around the world--join us and sharpen your photography skills! More details and registration here: How to Take Better Photos of Nature and the World Around You.
I know it's funny for a blogger to say this, but sometimes I really need a break from the online world. Not from my blog (which I still enjoy--and I hope you do, too!) but from the incessant chatter of the internet. It can be mentally exhausting, getting constant updates from every sector of your life and the world at large.
So I think it's important, from time to time, to step away from it. To take a digital detox.
That's exactly what I did this past Memorial Day weekend. Truth be told, it wasn't a clean break--I did check in twice, briefly. Not for FOMO (Fear of Missing Out); just to make sure nothing was terribly amiss. But I didn't engage.
I've finally learned that I don't need to answer every single question or comment immediately. I don't have to add my two cents to every discussion. Sometimes, it's better to just ponder. To let thoughts travel a natural course before automatically responding. Usually, the world can wait.
So this past weekend, if I got the urge to "check in", I checked out--outdoors. I got a LOT of gardening done. (Pulling up weeds feels really, really good!)
I treated the kids--and myself--to ice cream. (Dairy Queen never gets old.)
We visited one of the local farms, where we met this handsome hog...
Naturally, I took even more pictures of my dog. (Can you ever have enough pictures of your pet? I don't think so!)
I chipped away at Laundry Mountain. (I've come to terms with the realization that it will never be Laundry Desert.)
We gathered with relatives at a pretty French bistro to celebrate the interesting life of an aunt who had passed away. She was into yoga thirty years before it became "hot."
Back at home, naps were taken (not by the kids).
Books were read. (I'm still on my Anne Lamott kick.)
Life was quiet.
And now I'm back. Recharged.
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How 'bout you? Do you take the occasional break from online life, or are you completely plugged in? Do tell!
Okay, let's get this right out of the way: Nobody really wants to hear how crazy-busy we are, with "craziness" being worn as a badge of honor, some sort of sign that we are "worthy." Because--let's face it--when it comes to busy-ness, we're all pretty crazy. We've all got our own stuff to juggle, and does anybody really know how to juggle (except circus clowns, who creep me out)?
There's good-busy (trying to do a lot of things you enjoy and are proud of) and bad-busy (trying to chip away at Laundry Mountain, paying a heap of scary bills, or--heaven forbid--checking in on loved ones at the hospital). Right now, I'm in the middle of good-busy (even though Laundry Mountain is threatening an avalanche). But I'm trying to take breathers here and there, so the good-busy doesn't start to feel like the bad-busy.
Enter the dog.
My dog, the velvety-eared Delilah, really knows how to take a breather.
But because she's a dog through-and-through, she's also acutely attuned to the Here and Now. Or at least she seems to be. Maybe she's really daydreaming about that handsome German Shepherd who lives up the block.
Anyway, the impression Delilah gives is that she's got mindfulness down to a science. She seems joyfully aware of every little creak and click, every flutter of a moth's wings, every crunchy stick to chomp, and all the tiniest little blossoms that are opening up right at this very second to release their blossomy scent.
She doesn't discriminate against weeds, either. They're all good.
So, as usual, when I need a breather, I grab my camera and attach the macro lens. It puts me into an odd-but-blissful mix of relaxation and hyper-awareness. Dog-Mode.
Like Delilah, I'm fascinated by bugs. Unlike Delilah, I don't try to eat them.
Getting into Dog-Mode, I get as close as possible to things and really check them out. Whoever said "God is in the details" was really onto something. The details I can see with a macro lens knock me right out with their awesomeness. And focusing on the tiniest little things helps me re-focus on the Big Picture.
So I'm channeling the dog, but with a camera and opposable thumbs. It stops me from running around in circles, chasing my tail.
How 'bout you? Are you good-busy or bad-busy today?
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BIG NEWS: Today, part of my good-busy is being featured as a guest writer on BlogHer, with a tutorial called 3 Simple Steps to Finally Learn Manual Mode on Your DSLR Camera. It's part of their BlogHer University month-long course on photography, and I'm tickled pink that they invited me to chime in! I hope you'll check it out during your next break from juggling.
If you found your way here from BlogHer (welcome!) and you enjoyed this post, you can check out more posts up the same alley, under the "mindfulness" and "macro" categories.
