I am still reeling in the honor of being asked to photograph one section of an exclusive lecture series taking place in town.

The event happened several weeks ago and upon the invitation to bring my camera and my creative eye, I almost wept.

Truly.

I was afforded the opportunity to photograph the crowd and the speaker at the Converge Lecture Series in Colorado Springs.

Marie Howe was speaking.

I am one for words and a lover of literature.
However, I’ve struggled with my sense of poetic verse over the years.

Marie restored my faith in poetry ~ and in the world of words as we know it today.

I made some mental notes as I stood behind the crowd, gazing through the lens. I thought about those things I remembered most.

I learned about being present – in the moment and alive.

I learned about elevating language – in every word and thought.

And I learned about the truth and moral beauty behind poetry.

The very thing we are most afraid of – ashamed of – and fear to share with others is the very thing beckoning us to share. It is the window to our souls and the gateway into the poetry our heart and souls long to breathe forth.

Thus, I decided to share amidst my vulnerability once again.

 

Letting Go and Letting In
December 6, 2012

Rather than call my self a procrastinator, I’ve determined that I have an inborn (or perhaps learned) response to hold on ever so tightly to the familiar things in my life.  No matter how uncomfortable or damaging those things may be – habit and lifestyle speaking – for some reason, my entire enterprise seems to be determined to just hold on.  The discomfort and distress caused by my habits and patterns are what I know best and continually engaging in them keeps me inside my dark and tiny little box, which is secure.  This is a fascinating concept to me.  It’s cold and it’s dark in here.  I can see the light outside, the bright sun and liberty that surrounds my box.  It looks amazing and wonderful.  There are times when my weary legs gain strength and begin to propel me forward.  Ever so slightly I begin to crawl into the colorful greenery outside, reaching for the radiant blue sky and the filtered Light of Freedom, yet I find my fingertips wrapped so very tightly around the withering edges of my cozy, dark “home,” clinging to the rough edges, that I simply cannot let go.  I look back into the unlit and murky box.  It’s so murky and stale in there.  Painfully small and restricted, lonely.  But it’s mine.  I know every single corner, every bump in the base and sideboards.  I know exactly which position hurts most and what the outcome of each and every moment inside will be.  I turn my head again to the world outside.  Fresh air, color and Light in the distance.  My heart races.  I’m almost there.  BUT, as appealing as the new seems to be, it’s just that.  It’s new.  Unknown, unexplored, vast, boundless, and unfamiliar.  I see the Light.  I know it’s there.  I choose to crawl back inside the box, clutching tightly the well worn sides of my “home,” making the decision not to let go today.

The tempting familiarity of my box wins once again.  It’s cold and dark, but it’s my cold and dark, and I know it well.  That’s what matters.  Does it really?  I think again.  I won’t give up.  I’m going to let the Light IN.  I cannot make it out today, but I’m going to let that Light IN.  Rather than let that darkness that surrounds me engulf and swallow me as well, I will lift my hands in praise, receiving all that is offered to me.  The Freedom that exists is a gift.  It is there.  I may not be capable of running towards it just yet, but it WILL fill me and it WILL change me.  With arms open wide, I close my eyes.  I see that Light rush inside, vanquishing the emptiness inside.  Blessings and praises.  I’m so very full of Light there is no longer room for anything else at all.  I am beaming and radiant with The Light.

Not all of us are able to let go quite yet.  Open your arms.  Open your heart.  Let the light inside.

‘Tis the season of light.  Bless you.

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