Open Hand, Open Heart

October 27, 2008

I decided to take up this challenge from Me Ra Koh's blog this month. Man, this was hard. I'm not used to taking photos of non-living persons, places and things. But I'm trying to stretch myself and grow as a photographer. Can't say I'm totally thrilled with the result but I learned a few photography and processing lessons along the way. I wrote this story to accompany the photo because a rock doesn't really say much on it's own now does it?

Simplicity Stone in Sepia</span>

It was late spring. The last afternoon of our first camping trip of the season. I was crying as we sat on the pebbled beach and watched our windswept children find shells. We were going home and a slew of "I think these are important and should all be done now" things awaited me when I got there. Creating the perfect garden, perfect house, crafting a cool blog, taking breathtaking photos, spending time with friends and family, loving our neighbors, serving in our community, all while giving my best to my husband and children. How to take care of the needs of everyone else, how to take care of myself.

I was overwhelmed but that wasn't why I was crying. The tears were the outward release of my inner conflict with these wise words of my husband, "focus on doing fewer things well instead of stretching yourself too thin". "But I don't want to focus!", I silently rebelled. "I want to accomplish all these good things and I want to do them now". I especially wanted to explore every nook and cranny of the creativity I was just discovering in myself.

I had started to experience the taste of freedom that comes after the babies and toddlers are grown. As my youngest turned 4 and then 5 I realized I had slept well for 2, no 3 whole years! I felt lighter and more energized without the physical and emotional demands of nursing day and night. And I was no longer constantly training, negotiating with, soothing, and feeding preschoolers.

For years my basic daily goals were to simply keep on top of the laundry, maybe have a walk, definitely have a nap and put a healthy supper on the table. Some days I didn't even succeed at that. Those were sweetly tender but tiring years. And although I missed movement in my womb, nursing, snuggling and rocking I was done with that stage and was excited about everything else I could now invest in.

So, to have my kind husband, from his own experience, suggest I focus on pursuing a few passions felt like I was being reigned in. I was frustrated and I cried, kind of like my toddlers used to.

During that conversation on the beach I picked up this stone and found comfort in it's surf battered smoothness. It fit just right in my palm and feeling it's heft seemed to help my tears subside and reason to return.

Of course I can grow our own food and make all our own everything, finish renovating and decorating my house, build a blog and photo portfolio, spend quality time with friends and family, love and serve our neighbors, home educate and love my children into independent, kind young adults and nurture respect, friendship and passion in my marriage. I just can't do it all right now. I have to choose a few things that I will do well in this time of my life.

I can't say that I've been totally successful at learning this leason. It's hard to curb my enthusiasm for "wanting it all now" and I've found my focus changes with the seasons. But my simplicity stone, the name I've given that black beach stone, serves as a good remembrance of that talk. It sits on my desk and reminds me to say no to some things so I can say yes to others. I recall my husband's advice and I'm inspired me to be focused in my goals and to be disciplined in achieving them. And better still, this nondescript black stone reminds me of precious time spent with my family on that windy May day.

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