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Chasing Photos And Capturing Life Along The Way

Since my sister upped her status to professional photographer in the last month, I’ve been on several photo shoots with her, whether assignment or freelance. I have to say she’s good. She has a wonderful eye for perspective and subject.

What I’ve witnessed during these past weeks has been an entirely new passion in her life and a boost for my own along the way.

She fires up in the morning with ideas for new possibilities, new environments for a look-see and pic potential. I rise with a question mark attached to consciousness. Where will she go today or is she staying put long enough to process those pics taken during the last burst of photo fever?

Watching her has become a new hobby for me. I see a blossoming of new potential for her as well as for her passion. Each petal that expands from the center of her desire flashes new color, new awareness of what could be, what will be, what has already developed. The scent of this blossom is one of freedom from fear; the fear of failure, of making a mistake, of falling flat on one’s face in front of friends and family.

I doubt seriously if any creative individual can embrace the inner creative drive if fear erects bars to prevent movement outward. Otherwise, no writer would ever submit a manuscript to a publisher. No painter would ever allow an outsider to see a new canvas. No musician would ever play in front of another person.

Instead, all of that pent-up creativity would wither and die unread, unseen, unheard by any but the fearful creator.

I believe that everyone has a creative side–a side that longs to be out there for all to witness. The crafter who makes odd gifts for those in the family does so for personal reasons as well as creative ones. They want to share what they enjoy, even if the receiver sticks it in a closet to be pondered later.

The scrapbooker labors over page after page of diverse memories with whatever accoutrements seem appropriate in an attempt to produce something that will keep those memories alive in some tangible form long after the event took place. Those scrapbooks become the modern version of home movies to be shared with family, friends, and neighbors. A great deal of thought and work goes into a well-crafted scrapbook. I salute those who have the patience for such projects.

Whether the garage band ever makes the big time or only plays for the local nursing home on Saturday afternoons, the members of the band can applaud themselves for using their freedom of musical expression to create a meaningful experience for someone else.

For that’s what creativity is really all about. It’s about allowing self-expression of a passion from deep within while sharing it with someone else. If that sharing takes place after we pass on, someone will still read the diary, see the scrapbook, look at the music and wonder about the creator and the product. How better to get the attention of the ones left behind?

Sounds like a form of immortality, doesn’t it. And I suppose that in a way that’s true. I still have small pieces created by grandparent and parent, which I will never surrender. Those precious gifts always trigger my mind to produce mental pictures of the givers and strike up memories of times spent with them.

Perhaps that’s why my sister feels compelled to take photos of the surrounding natural world. If her business takes off, that’s great. But the end result is the creation of a pleasurable memento of a worthwhile experience, which will continue to stand as the primary function of the act of taking the photo.

She will always be able to remember the day of the purple sunset before the aurora borealis. She will always carry the memory of sable bunnies and whitetail deer. The waterfalls and lakes will always call her back to view their beauty because she has captured their essence in pixels.

I have watched  her allow her muse free reign and enjoyed the view. Now she understands why I write, why the hours are never long enough, and why I never get bored with it. She only had an inkling before. Now she has the full picture and it’s changed both of us. We can share our passions, collaborate, and make plans for later.

“Never is a day so full that another small pleasure cannot find a home in my heart.” I don’t remember who said that, but it’s true.

Here’s hoping your pleasures can be shared. A bientot,

Claudsy

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