words don’t matter you do across a table carrying our years cups in hand shadow pens starry paper ray dotted cheeks called-out names like a song jane says look up we rewrite the room
*28/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
“She did not succumb to the battering of the brutal elements in her life. No, instead, with nourishment and strength from those surrounding her, and from her own deep, strong roots, she continued to grow; not just grow but thrive! So much so that she did not buckle under the weight that was not her own.”—Claudia
For the month of June, my model was my lovely friend Claudia. We met during sunrise, to avoid the heat, and our time together was magical. We wandered the same wooded area I had taken photos in last month, but it looked different, more golden and less dark green. I focused my camera on capturing her lovely energy, smile, and how she connects to nature.
I met Claudia when our kids started first grade together. My first memory of her is volunteering together to paint the school office. She was working hard (something I learned is how she’s wired) and we got to talking. I instantly knew she’d be someone I wanted in my life. She’s caring and kind, but doesn’t allow boundaries to be crossed. She’s a loving mother who taught her kids to speak up for themselves and is the very epitome of unconditional love.
I’ve seen my friend go through some very rough times in the last few years and really focus on healing. She’s in such a good place right now and I saw it, radiating off her (see the photos at the end for photographic evidence, maybe?) I’m really loving these sessions with my friends and can’t wait to keep growing and sharing my photos with you all.
Enjoy!
#1#2#3
What makes you proud? Watching my kids advocate for themselves and set boundaries, and knowing that I provide well for them, not just physical needs but in all of the ways that matter makes me really proud.
#4#5#6
What makes you feel brave? Reminding myself of how much healing and growth I have done these past few years makes me feel brave.
#7#8#9
What gives you hope? Trusting the path that the universe has set for me, believing that it has good things for me, and reminding myself that it has always taken care of me (even though I endured a lot of pain and trauma), gives me hope.
#10#11#12
When we first starting taking photos together, I told my friend to just take a moment to look around the woods. Relax a minute and feel the energy. I snapped this shot. Although it’s most likely just a unique sun flare, my first thought when I opened the image was “did I capture her aura?” I had to share it with you all too.
And here’s some extras, just because I like them:
These were taken with my Olympus E-M1 MarkII, using several different lenses and edited with Lightroom Classic. Let me know what you think, and check out the others in this series if you missed them.
“A winner is a loser who tried one more time. Not the smartest. Not the fastest. Just the one who didn’t stop.” —George M. Moore Jr.
For the month of March, my model was my dear friend Penny. I met her in 2013 at the table read for the Listen to Your Mother stage show. We locked eyes across the table, and instantly connected. She possesses a warmth and kindness that allows her to make people feel profoundly seen, a rare gift. She’s a singer, writer, storyteller, caregiver, and one of my favorite people on the planet.
We met last week at the beautiful St. Ignatius Loyola Catholic Church, where she sings as cantor. The space was gorgeous, and she was a natural at posing. We only had an hour to spend together because of our schedules, but we made the most of it. She trusted me fully, and I think it shows in the way she’s looking at the camera/me.
Penny normally doesn’t like her photo taken, but she said it was fun with me. And she loved the photos! That’s the whole point: helping my friend see her own beauty. Each time I do another shoot, my confidence grows and I’m learning more and more. I’m so grateful for this growth! Please, give her some love in the comments below and tell me what you think of this shoot. Do you have a favorite? Do you see improvement in the quality of these photos?
What makes you proud? For most of my life I have been able to do what I loved, what I was good at and things that made a difference on the planet. The fact that I usually also got paid was icing on the cake.
#4#5#6
What makes you feel brave? I’ve been a family caregiver for over 30 years. If that didn’t break me, nothing will.
#7#8#9
What gives you hope? Children. They are the future. The fact that God keeps sending them is a sign that He hasn’t given up on us yet.
#10#11#12
Thank you to everyone who is cheering me on with my photography. I’ve been very focused on it lately, but I’m still writing. I’ll be sharing some words soon. Promise!
birthday soon leaves begin their autumn dress eager wind rushes to receive only in dreams, summer remains —Neil, 2021
As many of you know, my dear friend and fellow blogger, Neil Reid, left us last November. Today would have been his 78th birthday. In honor of his kind heart and beautiful writing, I’d like to share with you two poems that will be in our poetry collection coming out next spring. The first one I wrote in honor of Neil, and the second is a favorite poem of his. He had a way of stringing together many different ideas to make you understand a deep truth. The photo above is of his beloved dragon statue which made it’s way to me. It’s magical, like him.
I miss him so much.
If you have a favorite Neil memory, please share it. Or, if his writing is new to you, read more and let me know what you think.
farewell
you are my moose four legs rooted in soil stars dancing in dark pupils sniffing for ripe plums running from wolves
you hand me threads wrapped around words unraveling big pills not wooden, real live boy feet kissing earth
you turn toward light living moss-covered verbs bowls of ocean water melt like sugar does children need sunlight
you wanted Neverland stories told under willows hunger turned into warmth forgetting ancient lost faces harvest moon dancing
you call me mother as in honey comb solid tree branches bend into dream blossoms nests, fragile eggs
you return home tail, fin, gills, scales shyness turned into galaxies unafraid of unknown shapes
love is a bucket we keep filling forever
—Bridgette
tell me words
when I can’t quite see you. unclear. obstructed. cluttered by stray thought. sound but no sight. although more than an arm’s length away. or, maybe it’s just smoke. fine bits of something recently burnt. a particulate suspended mass.
describe smoke
when I called, you came to me. only a few steps measured away, but it meant you had to get up, get out of bed. something in the dark looked awry. my height marked in pencil, ascending on the doorway jam. yours by a calming hand.
describe mother
she was always there. more than anyone. her. feeder of stray cats, any cats. hands that held no threats, not to anyone. a gingham dress. always. at least my always. memory bigger than me. mother of mother.
describe Janet
you come from out of the ground. you come from mountaintops. you come from high and grey and green and white and dark, clouds we say. one drop at a time still makes an ocean to waiting watchful acolytes. thirst. we drink.
describe water
check mark all of the above. a first beginning, eagerly. tell me all the stars. tell me all the worlds. tell me about me and about you. I’m all ears. I’ll bring the old cooking pot.
describe everything
you come from the ground when I call. you answer thirst. you bake bread. I comb your hair. cat’s asleep on the bed. you are rolling brown grass hills. my hand knows the curves. you are a bowl of soup. you are inside when outside is rain.
Last week I spent time recharging and writing in a beautiful house on Cobb Mountain. My creative, giving, and loving friends helped me figure out the title of the short story book I’ll be self-publishing in April. I wrote the introduction and edited several stories. They were invaluable in listening to me rattle on about my dreams and fears.
In this tumultuous time in America, it felt good to surround myself with strong women. We need each other more now than ever.
“They will want you seated, conformed, and quiet but don’t you dare fit in. Scream the house down if it’s what it will take to make your noise heard. The divine feminine has been shamed and shunned for self-expression for far too long, we aren’t here to silence ourselves anymore.”—Nikki Rowe
As always, all photos were taken by me with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW. Let me know if you have a favorite and have a wonderful week.
Forget about everything else and be right here. Look at the way the full moon rises, timid and then quickly. Bold. Look at the way the Joshua Trees grow. Each branch jutting off the main tree is from an injury. They make broken look beautiful. You do too.
Let’s remember this moment and make more. Many, many more.
“What draws people to be friends is that they see the same truth. They share it.” —C.S. Lewis
#1#2#3#4#5#6#7#8#9#10#11#12#13#14#15
It’s not like me to be spontaneous. I like planning, making lists, and being as prepared as possible. Last week I decided at the last minute to visit my childhood best friend in Las Vegas for her birthday and got ready in three hours. It was a perfect, beautiful, enjoyable, and fully unplanned whirlwind of a few days capped off by the appearance of the Hunter’s supermoon. My heart is so full.
Most of these photos were taken at the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. However, the last few photos were taken on the drive back in the morning. The last photo is the moon setting as the sun rose close to Newberry Springs, CA.
As always, all photos were taken by me with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW. Let me know if you have a favorite and have a wonderful week. Only two full moons left of the year. Wow.
i am burning it down she says while we eat meat and rice in the afternoon. flames crackle between us scorching nearby tables and turning sorrys into ash. our daughters watch us shoot lasers from our eyes while holding hands. we laugh at time shedding worn-out shadows until we sing our siren call center stage. fire leaps from our naked tired bodies to transform old beliefs until they break free or bloom or evolve; anything but stand still. wiggle it loose until it snaps. forget how it looks. our mothers didn’t know but we do. we dare each other to burn brighter and brighter. we promise to not look away. hearts can be soft and still rage. let’s get together again soon, i say.
Bridgette Tales 