Almost 6 months ago, I lost something. Something very precious to me and something that I have had a great deal of trouble moving past. Even now when I think about it, tears still well up inside of me. It’s not something that would make sense to most people, but the connection was oh so deep and it saddens me still to think that I can never go back. But I can’t.
This past weekend I discovered a new love. I made a new connection… full of endless possibilities. And now for the first time in 6 months I think that the sacrifice and deep sense of loss might actually begin to make sense.
I have wanted to be a successful photographer for…. well if I am honest… probably my entire life. But most definitely the past 3 years as I have worked really hard to hone my skills and learn all I could. It has been a struggle. Not the learning. That has been pure joy. But I have always felt completely behind the 8 ball as it were. Everything that I have ever wanted to point a camera at has been at least a 3 hour drive away from where I live. And so every now and then, my husband and I pack up for a weekend and drive to some idillic location far from home. We spend a few short, and usually rushed days trying desperately to pack everything into an impossibly small space of time. Sometimes I think the fact that I have ever been able to get some good shots is a miracle in and of itself. I am always at the mercy of the weather conditions on the day that I am there. Knowing that I might never return. So often I have only minutes to capture what should (if done professionally) would take careful planning and timely execution.
The upside is, that I have become a master at making the best of horrible situations. Perhaps that’s a good thing, I don’t know.
All I really know…
is that I am tired.
When you want sometime so bad for so long with so much of your heart and soul, and it is always just around the corner, but never quite within reach… well… it’s hard. It wears you down.
But maybe, just maybe the end is in sight. Admittedly not as close a sight as I would like, but I think… finally… there is light at the end of this tunnel. I know that I could do great things if I had all I needed at hand and the time to devote to my dreams. Without the pressure of rushing and making do with whatever I am handed on the day. I could plan and I could execute that plan with precision timing and dedication to excellence. I could take things to the whole next level. Which, is a place I have longed to be. I could be the photographer that I know deep in my heart I can be… that I was maybe even born to be.
I think that every artist has a story inside of them that is just waiting to be told… longing to be expressed. And until that story breaths the light of day, there is a never ending aching inside that tarnishes all other experiences. Like a song half written. All I have ever wanted is the opportunity to complete that song. Whether it turns out to be a symphony or just plain ordinary… I just need to know what (if given the best opportunities), I could really achieve. Is there true art inside my soul, or is just a pipe dream?