There once was a little girl who was simpatico with the sea. At a very young age, she accepted the water’s unpredictability and understood her moods. She found they both, had much in common. One day our young innocent could be calm and the next, filled with unrest and turmoil, not much different from Sea.

Most of her summer days were spent gliding across Sea’s surface in search of adventure. Sea never disappointed. Sea introduced our heroine to sandbars, unruly currents and the gloom of fog. Each challenging her not to compete, but to comply to Sea’s whims.

​For all her formidable years their relationship flourished. Sea taught her resilience, bravery and, the most important lesson of all, the importance of being buoyant. Fighting against the currents can lead to exhaustion, but floating allowed her to glide through most riptides.

Our little girl is now a seasoned captain of her own ship. She is forever thankful for what Sea has taught her. She visits Sea just a few times a year now, but when she does she returns to being that little girl adrift with her best friend.

Live in color,

​Abby

“I surrender,” said Birch. “Winter, you are the most powerful and formidable force. I bow before you.”

​The day was April 16th. The firewood was stored away. The wicker furniture was cleaned and brought into the screened-in porch and the buds on the trees began to swell with life. The morning air had turned warm and sweet, as the forest grew noisy with the flutter of activity, with its residents re-emerging. Then, in the darkness of night, the clouds rolled in. 

Just when I thought I figured it all out and was so sure what comes next, Mother Nature laughed.

The following morning I woke to pure beauty. Overnight, six inches of heavy, gleaming snow blanketed the landscape. Spring succumbed to Winter, which caused every creature large and small to pause.

Winter reappeared for one final grand display. The meadow was transformed into a pristine, dreamlike setting where the world, in a wink, was silenced by Grace.

​If I am to surrender to anyone or anything, let me surrender to Beauty.

​Live in color,

Abby

Why do I crave the sea?

Is it the raw, untamed elements shifting before my eyes? Or is it the fresh, intoxicating air filling my lungs? For me it’s really about the lack of human mishegas, a special kind of madness only people can manufacture.

There is a simplicity and order to a seascape. Sure, it has its moments of turmoil and unrest, but somehow I have a built-in assurance that balance will return, and it always does.

​Our world has severely lost its balance. I am deeply concerned.

In the hopes of keeping some semblance of sanity, while overwhelmed by the incessant madness, I keep returning to the sea. There I will luxuriate in her pristine beauty while yearning for our world to find its equilibrium. Then I will listen, but more importantly, learn from her unhurried wisdom.

Let there be balance.

Live in color,

​Abby

Its light is undeniable. Its intensity has been known to turn a non-believer into a born again mystic. What holds such radiant power?

The moon.

There are 12 (sometimes 13) full moons in a year. Out of those 12, probably half are clearly visible. Six times in a year, if I am very lucky, I am washed in celestial energy.

​Now that we are all in a, make the best of a bad situation scenario, the moon has become my lifeline. This silver, shimmering orb shakes me from my dull, monotonous funk, replacing it with the wonder of being alive. It’s a slap across my face from Mother Nature saying, “Snap out of it”, said with a thick Brooklyn accent.

Under the super-charged glow of January’s Wolf moon, I entered an alternate dimension. It was a space where the mundane, analytical mind shuts off. Logic was momentarily suspended and replaced with sheer amazement.

​Finally, I awoke from my dreary slumber.

Live in color,

Abby

​― Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman 

Live in color,

​Abby

There was a brilliant TV commercial years ago. A camera zooms in on a single egg. A composed yet somber voice says, “This is your brain” The camera then pans to a hot skillet sitting on a lit stove. The egg is cracked on the rim of the pan, opened and dropped in. The egg sizzles, spits and spatters. The camera focuses on the fried, burnt remains of the egg. The voice returns, “This is your brain on drugs.”

​It was a quite affective visual.

How’s your brain doing these days? Sizzling?

As autumn takes hold here in Vermont, light and color fade. For a photographer that’s like saying goodbye to your best good-time buddies from summer.

This morning instead of being greeted by cool, wafting breezes and soft autumnal forest hues, I was met by ice — hard, brittle, unforgiving, linear, patterns.

​I was confronted by the brawny voice of nature. The natural world holds both male and female sides but, I respond to the smooth and silky, feminine voice. The gentle curvy lines, the soft contemplative tones, that speak to the right side of my brain. But this morning, a different landscape appeared before me.

I saw chaos and confusion. Where did my soft, quiet place go?

This is my brain on 2020.

Live in color,

​Abby

What is your job? I don’t mean what job pays your bills, what is your heart’s work? What were you sent here to contribute?

​Standing on a jagged rock, on the coast of Maine, with majestic sweeping views in front of me, my attention kept pulling me to a single leaf behind me. Ignoring that call, I continued to click away at the grand vistas. That constant summoning to a solitary, seemingly insignificant object in the woods continued throughout the day, along with my refusal to listen. 

Like a mother fed up with her child's barrage of “why” questions, while tugging at her pant leg, I finally gave in to the relentless calls and turned to the woods. A cast of characters called to me.

A lone leaf being gently held on a pine bough.

A delicate windswept feather, finding a space to breathe on a mammoth rock.

An immature fern sprout, late to the party, as autumn settles in.

And a still life composed by nature showing her harmony and jewel-like intricacies.

We all need space. Space to truly take in a moment, space to recognize an objects inherent delicacy and most importantly space for gratitude arise.

So... never under-estimate the power of an apparently inconsequential composition.

​Not to worry, I’m here to remind you.

Live in color,

​Abby

Am I really any more than the sum of my parts? 

This thought arose from a happy bunch of sunflowers perched on my kitchen windowsill. In full bloom the sunflower is a bold and bright flower, however for me, this golden blossom only begins to get interesting when the decay process starts. Each vibrant petal begins to mutate into an exquisite, character-rich, twisted and gnarled expression of transformation.

I carefully deconstructed my sunflower, revealing much more than its many parts. It unveiled many different layers of seeing. Where do I choose to put my attention? On the whole? Or on its unique parts? Today, I chose to put my attention on its parts.

The bigger challenge in life is to recognize and nurture the beautiful and imperfect parts of all living things, without ever losing sight of their glorious whole.

Live in color,

Abby

​He has been with me for 68 years. We both are a little tattered and worn, but still here. 

When I was a child, Rabbit was my most treasured possession. I dragged him everywhere, clenching firmly to his ear. I needed him, he made my little person’s perspective tolerable in a big person’s world. I awoke every day with him in my arms and would not close my eyes in the evening until he was nestled close to my chest. As I grew, inevitability, he fell out of favor. However, I never abandoned him. Through the years he always had a seat in my bedroom, my silent witness, where he was content to watch the ebbs and flows of my life.

There are things that we hold onto in our lives, seemingly trivial, like Rabbit. However, he is anything but trivial. Today he sits on my dresser, with fur that has been loved off, and an ear that has been stitched on, a constant reminder never to lose my childlike enthusiasm.

Today, for old time’s sake, Rabbit and I took a walk together in the meadow, grabbing his all too familiar ear. With crickets hopping across our path and dandelion buds caught between my toes, I noticed my sense of astonishment in nature has never diminished nor faltered from when I was a child. I still smile at a radiant sunset and am simply giddy over the morning dew lit up by the rising sun’s rays.

We all need reminders of what is important. Rabbit has taught me the value of a trusted friend, and the patience to stay with the ordinary long enough for it to reveal the extraordinary.

But Rabbit always knew that.

Live in color,

Abby 

That is what I heard rising from the trees on a brilliant summer morning, as a few women gathered on the campus of Southern Vermont Art Center. Tree yoga brought us together, a need to be centered and at peace was the intention.

I found a palpable shift of energy standing under the trees. I felt supported from both the ground beneath my feet and from the branches gracefully swaying above my head. I felt cradled and comforted as if in the arms of a wise woman.

Who knew these grand cedars could be such an invaluable source of aged wisdom? It is no wonder since this venerable species has been with us and revered since the beginning of time. Its wood was used to build sacred temples and burned in purification ceremonies. 

Resilience, support, strength and hope — that is what the cedar tree offers us.

A simple yoga class became anything but simple. Imbued with wisdom from ancient trees, pursuing an ancient discipline, as fingers were placed in ancient mudras...I surrendered.

Live in color,

Abby 

Intrigued? Tree yoga will be held at Southern Vermont Art Center in Manchester, Vermont every Saturday morning in July. https://www.svac.org/

I’m tired of waking up to a spectacular spring day crying.

I’m exhausted from all the noise. I’m so sad to see how all our lives have changed. I am distressed for my grandson and the world he is inheriting. 

I am heartbroken.

How do I hold on to my sanity? How do I nurture that small, quiet space I have to weather this storm?

On a recent visit to a friend’s house, who is an avid gardener and herbalist, I found the answer.

​Nature.

As I entered her back yard I saw an assemblage of potted plants in all shapes and sizes. Each with only one variety in its designated container, arranged in groups to highlight their inherent beauty.

I just sat and took the spectacle in. Moved by their grace, I reached for my camera and clicked away. There was a steady breeze wafting through the garden, so creating a tack sharp image was impossible. That never stopped me. I clicked away.

I found an exquisiteness in the blurred lines. Blocks of vibrant color came alive showing a different perspective and a moment of calm.

My hope is that the following images will allow you to also have a moment of calm. A moment for you to find your small, quiet, space to wipe your tears and see the good that surrounds us, even in difficult times.

Live in color,

Abby

Thank you Mary

Every good story has a cast of characters. It is the uniquely different personalities that weave a rich narrative.

Follow me into my garden, into a wild patch of herbs and weeds. This unattended plot is lush and humming with life. It is a place where field mint and chive live harmoniously with their roots deeply planted ensuring their perennial reappearance.

I was drawn to this patch of weeds at the break of dawn. I heard an undeniable call, summoning me. Getting up from my warm, comfy, bed I made my way outside and positioned myself next to the tangled plot. There I sat on the moist grass looking for nothing in particular and wanting nothing. I just observed. Slowly, I was delighted to be introduced to this botanic cast of characters.

It all started with the Gate-keeper, protecting the newly formed buds.

The harmonic resonance, swirling through the air was supplied by the choir.

Then my eye met the sage.

And what story would be complete without the temptress.

There are worlds within worlds and stories within stories all available to us if only we sit still.

Live in color,

Abby

Folklore tells us, in a time before man’s presence, there existed a species of little people. A jolly, reclusive race with an intimate relationship with nature. They were the keepers of the earth’s most guarded secrets. Welcome to the realm of Fairyland. 

Today, sprites are visible to the trained eye. They come in many guises, specifically designed for their unique habitat. They are most visible in the brilliant light of dawn, or the waning light of dusk. The arrival of solstices and equinoxes are their most celebrated time. ​

As the sun slipped behind a mountain ridge today, with only a handful of days away from the summer solstice, I was treated to an enchanting tree sprite display. I had the pleasure of watching them dance and sing in the receding light of this warm, spring day.

Sprites began to disappeared from human sight when civilization began to encroach upon their woods, however they return when we need to be reminded of our magical world.

I say to myself, “How can one not believe in their existence, as they frolic right before my eyes?” For now, I am content to watch them dance, with my body pressed in the wild, sweet meadow grass.

They have stayed hidden, cloaked in nature’s many disguises because of one special talent. They have the ability to shape-shift: one minute a tree sprite in complete jubilation, the next, a sprouting spring leaf.

Just another magical day in the company of sprites.

Live in color,

Abby

Coming together and falling apart is what nature does. So why would I expect anything different for myself? 

Nature consists of cycles. It relies on its rhythm for renewal. It’s not shocked when damage occurs, it just continues with its cycle. It doesn’t need reassurances that everything will be okay, it just accepts what is.

The lone journey of a dandelion is a complex one that illustrates this point. With a debut in early spring, its arrival is heralded by its brilliant golden color. Later in the season the yellow blossoms give way to white seeds ultimately meant to take flight. Then taking root, sprouting leaves, making flowers, making seeds, taking flight, taking root, sprouting leaves, making flowers, making seeds and taking flight…

Sometimes I have to fall apart to come together in a better way. Is this my time for renewal? I refuse to get sucked into the chaos. It’s time to loosen my grip on control and trust the cycles. It’s time to dwell in the soft places between quiet and madness.

Live in color,

Abby

This brilliant quote is by Pema Chodron, found in her survival guide titled, When Things Fall Apart.

Have you ever noticed the amount of time you spend waiting?

​We are all guilty. We wait for the perfect partner, the dream job, the next exotic vacation, dinner or even the mail.

Really? Is that how you want to spend your life?

This week, reading more and tuning into the morning and evening news programs with more frequency, I am reminded how many of us reside in life’s waiting room.

You have heard it before, within every tragedy lies important lessons to be learned. After being at home, on Long Island on 911, I learned lessons, lessons which I still carry with me today. Today, my hope is we walk away from this pandemic a little wiser. There is an abundance of lessons to be learned from this moment. I believe one of the most valuable is the renewed appreciation of time.

Many of us have separated ourselves from ourself. When a still moment arises we run to fill it with an activity. Pick your poison, you grab your phone, you turn on the tv, you open the refrigerator. Is the refrigerator really where your fulfillment lies? 

This pandemic offers the opportunity for a little self examination. 

Notice how much time you spend waiting. Now is the time to fill each moment with substance. Infuse those spaces with awareness and gratitude for what you have, not what you lost. 

In the coming weeks we will experience many moments needing to be filled, chose wisely. Don’t look to just fill a moment, look to enrich it.

Live in color,

Abby

The images that accompany this text are from last fall. On one of the first crisp mornings I found a iridescent olive green and gray warbler, lying lifeless on my deck.

For the next several hours I documented the beauty and intricacies of this fragile creature. I expanded her wings to reveal a perfect accordion fold of feathers. I was in awe of her gloriously vaned plumes, each having their own harmonious rhythm, as they slipped through my fingers.

That afternoon I took the time to take in the exquisite patterning of nature. To revel in the well-balanced, almost mathematical order of lines that made up her wingspan, but most of all to celebrate the grace with which she once filled the sky.

There is something you can do now to make yourself and the people around you feel better in these uncertain times.

Smile.

On my once a week outing, I learned a critical lesson. Driving down my mud soaked road I passed a gal walking her dog, our eyes met, and without thinking, smiled at each other. A momentary wave of calm washed over me. Arriving at the health food store a charming girl with a huge smile brought my pre-ordered box of groceries out to my car and I reciprocated with even a bigger smile. Again, a sensation of calm.

I always attributed my smile to my successful worldwide travel. I discovered when language or cultural differences get in the way, a smile can melt away barriers. Well, let’s melt away some of the current fear. Find a reason to smile. 

This simple human gesture can have a profound affect on others, including yourself, offering a connection and a sense of well-being. Smile at your partner, your child, and if you are alone, smile at yourself in the mirror. It’s contagious, the good kind.

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near

That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

Music and lyrics by
Charles Chaplin, John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons

​Live in color,

Abby

What do you lust for?

Now that I am comfortably settled in my latter years, I find I require less stuff to make me happy. The days of searching for the next great thing to amuse, stimulate or entertain me are pretty much over.

It has taken me 68 years to figure out I am the only one that is responsible for my own happiness. Looking outside myself for some type of gratification is fruitless. The nurturing of my own inner contentment and peace is my only salvation.

I am fortunate to find great joy in a sunset, an ice pattern found on my driveway or a shadow casting a long, late day impression on a glistening snowscape. These are all gifts I recognize, and I am thankful I have the ability to see them.

Today, I lust for engagement with the world around me. I lust for the discovery of both the hidden and apparent natural beauty within eyeshot. I lust for the unexpected awe found in the ripples of a stream. I lust for an appreciation and gratitude for this “one wild and precious life”.

What do you lust for?

Live in color,

Abby

It’s spectacular, isn’t it. I’m talking about the world in which we live.

Every day the moon rises and sets, and tides flow in and out effortlessly with an unflappable rhythm. The natural world knows its place. There’s no moaning or complaining, just an understanding of a job that needs to be done.

Humans muck things up.

We have become the bully in nature’s playground, taunting, challenging and ultimately dominating. Can’t we all just play nice?

It’s time to reacquaint ourselves with the crispness of the morning air, the sparkle of freshly fallen snow and the resilience of a swift stream. It’s time to renew our reverence, respect, and humility for the world in which we live. It’s time to reconnect.

Just for a second, abandon your egocentric view and imagine being part of something grander. Envision being an integral part of our planets very survival — for you are.

Now take a moment and get your head out of your devices, and at the minimum, look out the window, or better yet, go for a walk in the woods. Be prepared to be astonished.

Now is the time.

Live in color,

Abby

​The recognition in his eyes had all but disappeared for his wife of sixty-two years however, her devotion towards him created a new portal of connection.

This is a love story that was a lifetime in the making. Their six decade marriage had taken them through the good times with ease and joy, and the difficult times with patience and resilience. They survived the challenges of a long relationship, showing us what a successful marriage can look like.

Now in the winter of their years, they continue to lean on each other for the essential human connection we all hunger for. The evidence of passing time is apparent for them both, him more so than her. With a diagnosis of multiple degenerative diseases affecting his brain, he now resides in a sporadic state of confusion. He has all but lost his ability to recognize the once familiar, experiencing only moments of clarity.

They both struggle with their current situation, but cope as best they can. He spends his days adrift in his fog and she, at times, is devastated and adrift without him. 

If you have ever experienced anyone with a cognitive dysfunction, the moments, however brief, of recognition are truly gifts.

Most days, his eyes fall blank, void of any memory. Until, she does one thing. 

​She sits next to him, moves in close, lovingly puts her arm around his back, pulling him in even closer, then gently presses her lips to his. In a flash his haze dissipates and his mental clarity returns as their lips touch. He sees his wife once again and has enough time to say, Inesinha, his endearing pet name for her. Moments later his mental fog rolls back in clouding, then suffocating his recall.

This elegant couple is Ines and Waldyr Bastos. They are my daughter-in-laws grandparents, presently residing in an assisted-living facility in São Paulo, Brazil.

​Hold dear to your own moments, for they are fleeting. Days pass, but moments are forever.

Happy Valentines Day.

Live in color,

Abby

Somewhere between,
Land and sea,
Light and dark,
And peace and chaos,
Lies a world we think we know, or do we really?

We quickly label everything and rarely stray from its given designation. Until we look, really look at something does it unveil its complexity and seamless transmutation into something other.​

It is that other I am drawn to. 

Discovering the other is better than walking down the stairs Christmas morning to a roomful of glittering gifts. The other is the ultimate gift, the reward for having persistence to see. 

On a recent visit to Provincetown I found more than sand and sea. I found the warp and weft of light and texture. It was difficult to see sand for sand, or water for water, for the interplay of the two created the other. 

Life is in constant flux. It is in that flux that labels disappear, and new identities emerge. 

Welcome the flux. 

Live in color,
Abby

​Some mornings are noteworthy. January 1st, 2020 was one of those unforgettable mornings.

With the sun still below the horizon, indirect light slowly illuminates the nearby mountain ridge. This morning’s light comes with a tall order. It needs to herald in not only a new day, a new year, and a new decade, but also a new vision. 

Could the painterly strokes that dress the morning air be a sign of good things yet to come? 

​This is the year of 20/20 vision. A clarity of sight and expression is needed now more than ever. Just seeing is no longer enough, seeing deeply is required. With decades passing me by as quickly as years, I feel an urgency to pay attention.

This morning I did just that. I took a front row seat to the morning’s spectacle, acknowledged the day was a gift, and mumbled to myself, “now don’t blow it.”

Happy New Year

Live in color,

Abby 

One thousand and five hundred days and 60 posts later, I have a new look.

After four years, Perspectives is now retired and a new website with more of a focus on my photography, is now up and running. Welcome to Abby Raeder Contemplative Photographer.

Any serious sojourn into photography, I believe, has less to do with the technical aspect of the camera and more to do with what is rattling around in the head of the photographer. So many questions arise in finding your photographic voice. Why am I making images? What is it that I need to say? Does anyone care?

Reflecting on those exact questions is how I have spent most of the last four years  My pursuit has been about creating more meaningful images as opposed to more pretty pictures. I have had countless reviews, attempting to guide me through this developmental stage, with little constructive advise other than, find your audience. That’s kind of like the old Steve Martin routine. Martin goes on to explain how you can get away with not paying any income taxes. His advise 1. Make a million dollars. 2. Tell the IRS, I forgot.

Life is never that simple, and neither is photography.

What I have uncovered in my process is my apparent connection to nature. I have learned there are innumerable life lessons that are available to one who carefully listens during a walk in the woods or along a windswept seashore. Nature holds more wisdom than a bevy of monks perched atop a Himalayan peak.

In the coming months I hope you will enjoy my new look and continue to read my occasional posts, under the tab Musings. I will be out and about making connections and images which I look forward to sharing with you. In the meantime, I encourage you to take a walk under your own leafy canopy to listen and learn.

Live in color,
Abby

This making art stuff isn’t easy. 

Once you have mastered your tools, all that’s left to focus on is you, the artist. That’s the space that is lonely and filled with doubt.

Making art is like being in therapy three times a week, with your therapist on speed dial. The process is filled with self-examination. Questions arise. What is it I really have to say? Does anyone care? Do I matter?

Anyone making art contributes their own flavor to a creative stew. Some add the spice, some add the stock that holds everything together and some add the garnish. All are essential to a rich and satisfying meal.

Pretty art may be considered the garnish, trite and superficial. But is it? During a 5-star dining experience, the visual is just as important as the taste. Pretty becomes the lure for you to pick up your fork and taste, to dive deeper into the complexity of the dish.

I may be putting my head on the chopping block, but I make pretty art. Not superficial or trite art, but art that uses pretty to draw you in. Ultimately, I want you to be seduced by my images, then astonished by nature’s magical and transformative beauty.

​The challenging part of navigating my artistic journey is to stay true to who I am as an artist and not be swayed by the flavor of the moment. Provocative, edgy art seems to be the current flavor. I’ve seen enough disturbing art that my antacids are always within reach.

Let’s not let pretty get a bad rap. Where would we be without pretty? I don’t want to be in a world that considers a sunset trite, or a rainbow hokey, or the morning light on the ebbing tide, banal.

Self-analysis is crucial in the art making process, but giving yourself permission to be authentically you, is paramount.

Gotta run, there’s a rainbow hovering over my meadow.

Live in color, 
Abby

Who among us will pick up and carry forward the baton Mary Oliver passes to us?

Who will prompt us to stop and take notice of our “one wild and precious life?” Who will remind us to listen to our breath, to pay attention, to be astonished?

I’m not a poetry girl. I have trouble digesting metaphor rich poems that speak of one thing, yet mean another. My brain just doesn’t go there. But then... along comes Mary.

​Mary Oliver’s poetry is accessible. She asks the tough questions in a straightforward and honest manner. She understands the importance of nature and solitude. We speak the same language.

As I sit alone on a beach, on a raw May morning in Provincetown, my mind can’t help but think of Mary. Her presence here is palpable. How can I walk across the dunes she loved so dearly and not think of her? This was her fertile ground. The ground in which some of her most recited poems came to life.

Mary awakens me to the magnificence of life by simply noticing. She teaches me that the act of observation quiets the infernal hum and refocuses my attention to the ever-present beauty that surrounds me. 

She was an advocate of cultivating one’s observation skills to see at a deeper level. She wanted her readers to look beyond the “ho hum” ultimately to discover the “holy cow!”

I may not be as eloquent, or as wise, as Mary but because of her I will continue to notice, photograph and praise the beauty I find. Hail Mary!

​Live in color,
Abby

Lunch break. While wandering through the Old Delhi market, our eyes met, and for a brief moment we had a connection.

When traveling, what do you focus your photographic attention on? Is it the natural beauty of a sweeping landscape or local monuments or other well-visited attractions? For me, it’s all about the people I encounter.

Beauty is not my focus, but more what resides behind the eyes, the soul.
​
Each of the following images has a story, a brief encounter and connection. 

The Sikh gentleman manning one of the information booths at a Hindu temple in Delhi, a sage if ever I saw one.

The boy who begged to have his photo taken in the hectic market of Old Delhi.

The old man who waved to me and graciously posed in Dharamshala.

The young lovers. I was approached by this pretty girl at a Sikh temple. Without saying one word she made it perfectly clear she wanted a photo taken of her and her boyfriend. She gave me her email. I sent her the photo.

The woman at the same Sikh temple who gently touched my arm and stood in front of me and posed. After I took the photo I turned the camera around to show her and she waved, no. She wasn’t interested in seeing the image, only wished to be seen.

I smiled at this gal, she smiled back. I told her she was very pretty, she glowed and posed as her husband looked on, somewhat disapprovingly.

The woman in red, I had to stop when I saw this beauty lit by a shaft of light. I raised my camera and gave the thumbs up sign, she timidly nodded.

The future of Buddhism, but still babies, in a remote monastery in northern India.

The Hindu Sadhu, that has chosen a life of abstinence, leaving behind all material, family, social, and sensual attachments, often for the purpose of pursuing spiritual goals.

A rich tapestry is woven by the many faces of India. Not all are pretty, but all are authentic and not shy of being seen for who they really are.

Is there a lesson here for us?

​Live in color.
Abby