the shift.

I’m a proponent of change. It’s never really bothered me.

Well. That is mostly true…but sometimes a lie.

I think it comes down to this: I understand change. I realize that when change is coming, or when it’s happening, that it’s usually because whatever space we’re in is getting too tight, and it’s riskier not to change. It doesn’t mean that change is easy, or without failure, or bump free. It just means that it’s time for a shift.

With photography, for instance. I’ve been working through some coursework that’s challenging, to say the least. I have doubts and resistance and internal temper tantrums and a sweet little asshole voice inside my head that says, “You can’t do this. You’re not good enough. I don’t believe in you.” I don’t like that voice, but I sure do listen to it.

I’m trying to find pockets of light. Different ways of seeing light. Rim light. Hazy light. Intentional sun flare. What used to be seen as a technical mistake is now being embraced and used and wrestled and wrangled by photographers and cinematographers to tell a different story.

Light that’s left after the sun goes down.

Harsh, side light. Evidently, this is known as “chicken light.”

Aside from internal and professional “growth” (using quotations there – still waiting on the “growth” part), I changed up a little recipe that I’ve been trying to make to more my taste…chai. I added some extra steeping time and I like the way it’s shifting.

And then there’s that shift that our children do. Again, while I am so excited for them, a piece of me crumbles as they grow and change and get older. Our 5th-grader is about to leave elementary school and move into middle school. I watch him struggle and get nervous…

And then come out on the other side a winner-winner-chicken-dinner.

I spent some time this morning looking through photos of the last several years. Our moves, how our lifestyle has shifted, how the boys have moved from these little wiggly bundles of silliness into bigger moving bundles of silliness. Through photos, it seems like the blink of an eye. It seems too fast and I can’t quite catch my breath.

But through memory, there’s been a beautiful and natural shift. Through memory, there are shouts of “You can do this! You’re so good! I believe so much in you!”

And I remember why I embrace change.

We can do this. I believe in us. :)

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