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How do you know when winter has arrived?
During the holiday season, it's easy. We watch the Rockefeller Center tree go up, or see the department store windows explode with gold and crystals in celebration of whatever seasonal holiday you may choose to recognize (how's that for being politically correct). My indicator for the arrival of winter is when my pond forms its first delicate coating of ice.
During the holiday season, it's easy. We watch the Rockefeller Center tree go up, or see the department store windows explode with gold and crystals in celebration of whatever seasonal holiday you may choose to recognize (how's that for being politically correct). My indicator for the arrival of winter is when my pond forms its first delicate coating of ice.
The summer's pond is an epicenter for the native flora and fauna, all jostling for their piece of this pristine landscape. It's abuzz with fish, birds, turtles, and assorted varments that slink from the woods in the hopes of snaring a tasty morsel.
Then November comes.
Then November comes.
This is a magical time. The turtles somehow know to disappear into their winter dens. The fish begin their sedentary existence in the depths of the water, while the ducks and geese have all flown south. What remains is an uninvited stillness that begins to descend upon the pond with stealth-like precision.
The forever shifting surface of the summer's water succumbs to quietude as temperatures drop; while the chill of winter silently extinguishes any visible sign of life. Slowly, without fanfare, one molecule of water at a time, the surface beings to solidify, encasing the once dynamic facade into a veneer of glistening ice. The pond becomes bound in a suspended animation, forced into a frozen dormancy.
The forever shifting surface of the summer's water succumbs to quietude as temperatures drop; while the chill of winter silently extinguishes any visible sign of life. Slowly, without fanfare, one molecule of water at a time, the surface beings to solidify, encasing the once dynamic facade into a veneer of glistening ice. The pond becomes bound in a suspended animation, forced into a frozen dormancy.
Nature is constantly shape shifting, changing and evolving, just as you are. Take the time to immerse yourself in your natural world, for if you blink, you could miss these magical transformations, including your own.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
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This face has haunted me for 9 years now. In 2006 I left my comfy existence in Vermont for an independent tour of Southeast Asia. I flew solo for 3 months testing my courage and resilience on an eye-opening adventure. On a swing through Cambodia, and the obligatory stop at Angkor Wat, I met this young girl. She was just one of many scruffy, yet captivating, children that attempt to endear themselves to the hundreds of tourists that descend upon this sacred site. All this little girl had to do was look at me: I melted, and took this photo.
The New York Times recently published a riveting 3-part story titled, The Displaced, about the 30 million, yes 30 million, children that have been displaced by numerous wars and uprisings around the world.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/08/magazine/the-displaced-introduction.html?_r=0
Please take a moment to read this article.
30 million children, frightened, homeless and all struggling to survive. Wrap that statistic around your head as you watch your children, or your nieces and nephews, as they clamor for the latest tech thingy or Balmain frock at H&M. Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to rant on the state of the global human condition, or overindulged American youth. I just want, as a photographer, for everyone to see the innocent faces of these children.
We may not be able to appease tyrannical foreign governments, or cool radical extremists, but by looking into the eyes of some of these displaced children, and imagining their struggle, maybe we could do a better job in raising a more compassionate generation. This is happening on our watch: bad on us. A truly warmhearted generation may have both the understanding and means to make sure this never happens again.
As for my little girl in Cambodia, pictured above, your guess is as good as mine. Is she still living in squalor along the river in Seim Reap? Does she have a young innocent of her own to feed? Is she still even alive? I don't have these answers, but this compelling little girl has touched my heart forever, just like the children in the Displaced story. All these faces have changed how I look at the world and its inhabitants. I have now begun to recognize the worldwide adversity and unfairness, especially for children. Can any of us afford to look away?
The New York Times recently published a riveting 3-part story titled, The Displaced, about the 30 million, yes 30 million, children that have been displaced by numerous wars and uprisings around the world.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/08/magazine/the-displaced-introduction.html?_r=0
Please take a moment to read this article.
30 million children, frightened, homeless and all struggling to survive. Wrap that statistic around your head as you watch your children, or your nieces and nephews, as they clamor for the latest tech thingy or Balmain frock at H&M. Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to rant on the state of the global human condition, or overindulged American youth. I just want, as a photographer, for everyone to see the innocent faces of these children.
We may not be able to appease tyrannical foreign governments, or cool radical extremists, but by looking into the eyes of some of these displaced children, and imagining their struggle, maybe we could do a better job in raising a more compassionate generation. This is happening on our watch: bad on us. A truly warmhearted generation may have both the understanding and means to make sure this never happens again.
As for my little girl in Cambodia, pictured above, your guess is as good as mine. Is she still living in squalor along the river in Seim Reap? Does she have a young innocent of her own to feed? Is she still even alive? I don't have these answers, but this compelling little girl has touched my heart forever, just like the children in the Displaced story. All these faces have changed how I look at the world and its inhabitants. I have now begun to recognize the worldwide adversity and unfairness, especially for children. Can any of us afford to look away?
A final image of another innocent of Cambodia, taken on the same trip.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
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How do you know when a chapter has come to an end; and how do you rally the courage to write a new one?
Twenty-five years ago somewhere, deep in my mind's creative lobe, I designed a home that checked all my boxes. It was to be a getaway in the mountains of Vermont but turned into much more; this house became my passion. In just a few short years this dream project went from my imagination to an actual blueprint, to breaking ground. I was involved in every aspect of the design and building process, and loved every second. Nothing was done by chance, everything was intentional, right down to squirreling away crystals in the walls to ensure good vibes.
Twenty-five years ago somewhere, deep in my mind's creative lobe, I designed a home that checked all my boxes. It was to be a getaway in the mountains of Vermont but turned into much more; this house became my passion. In just a few short years this dream project went from my imagination to an actual blueprint, to breaking ground. I was involved in every aspect of the design and building process, and loved every second. Nothing was done by chance, everything was intentional, right down to squirreling away crystals in the walls to ensure good vibes.
My son was eight when we first walked the land, we imagined all that we would do on the vast rolling expanse. He was the one that named the property, Wildside, after Lou Reed's classic hit, Walk on the Wild Side. How fitting a name. Over the next twenty plus years we celebrated every holiday in this glorious home, enjoyed all the seasonal activities the Green Mountains had to offer, became an eager student of the mysteries of the woods, and raised 3 Newfoundland dogs, as I watched my son grow into a confident married man, now living aboard.
In the silence of the star filled evenings of Vermont, I now find myself asking the question, in my life's story, is the chapter titled Wildside coming to an end?
In the silence of the star filled evenings of Vermont, I now find myself asking the question, in my life's story, is the chapter titled Wildside coming to an end?
It's easy to stay put, to keep the status quo, but at what cost? Would I forfeit my next chapter because I am be too comfortable? Am I shying away from new challenges as the years roll by?
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived... I did not wish to live what was not life... nor did I wish to practice resignation... I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." ~ Thoreau
I'm not done challenging myself, no matter how titanic the decision of selling the family home is. Growth comes in the uncomfortable and challenging spaces, and the day I stop venturing into uncharted waters, I might as well just pack it in.
So how does anyone say goodbye to a home that has protected you from the fierce winters, warmed you with its crackling fire, cooled you with its glistening pond in the summer heat, and fed the souls of all that crossed its threshold? I don't have the answer, but what I can tell you is, making the decision is heart wrenching.
So how does anyone say goodbye to a home that has protected you from the fierce winters, warmed you with its crackling fire, cooled you with its glistening pond in the summer heat, and fed the souls of all that crossed its threshold? I don't have the answer, but what I can tell you is, making the decision is heart wrenching.
“I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do.” ~ Georgia O'Keeffe
Am I ready to write a new chapter? Are any of us really ready?
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
- Published on
In a 140 character, 24/7, nano second society, can we still appreciate the wisdom of the wise men and women that have walked before us? That was the question I asked myself on the plane ride home from New Mexico, from my weekend immersion into the wisdom of the Mayan culture.
I had an opportunity to partake in a weekend workshop in northern New Mexico on a sprawling 100 acre compound. The workshop focused on the Council Wheel, a specific form of the American Indian Medicine Wheel. The Council Wheel is an oral tradition that has been handed down to mostly Native American medicine women. It was the women that carried the promise of keeping the culture and wisdom of the Wheel alive. The intrinsic knowledge of the Wheel came from past Chiefs, which addressed the relationship to the earth we share, and our responsibility to the life that emanates from it.
I had an opportunity to partake in a weekend workshop in northern New Mexico on a sprawling 100 acre compound. The workshop focused on the Council Wheel, a specific form of the American Indian Medicine Wheel. The Council Wheel is an oral tradition that has been handed down to mostly Native American medicine women. It was the women that carried the promise of keeping the culture and wisdom of the Wheel alive. The intrinsic knowledge of the Wheel came from past Chiefs, which addressed the relationship to the earth we share, and our responsibility to the life that emanates from it.
The Council Wheel is a form of crisis management, a problem solving tool that could help a member of a tribe seek clarity to an issue, followed by a recommended course of action. The focus of our weekend workshop was to learn this tool and hopefully apply this ancient wisdom to our frenetic lives.
Over three days, the eight participants, from various walks of life, delved deeper into the Council Wheel's history and learned of its essential characteristics. In a nutshell, the wheel is divided into eight sections, or lenses, each corresponding to the eight compass directions. The belief is that there is a unique perspective, or insight, that comes from each direction and that wisdom would then be clearly applied to the problem at hand.
Over three days, the eight participants, from various walks of life, delved deeper into the Council Wheel's history and learned of its essential characteristics. In a nutshell, the wheel is divided into eight sections, or lenses, each corresponding to the eight compass directions. The belief is that there is a unique perspective, or insight, that comes from each direction and that wisdom would then be clearly applied to the problem at hand.
On our last evening, under a moonlit sky, we convened a Council Wheel formal gathering. Our eight fearless participants, accompanied by our two attentive directors, made our way through the rugged high desert. We walked in silence past gnarly bush, on a narrow meandering path which lead to an authentic tepee nestled amongst Russian olive trees. Crickets offered a cacophony of sound, emphasizing the stillness and the sacredness of the council. We had been all assigned a role and a direction. A question was posed and after great deliberation, we dispensed wise insight around a blazing fire within the warmth of the tepee.
There is much reflection and ceremony that accompanies the Council Wheel, the gift arrives when we examine a problem from all perspectives, not just one or two. What I found was that there was a great commitment we must take to reap the wisdom of the wheel. It left me wondering, are we, as a modern fast paced culture, really committed to anything anymore to take on such a task?
It seems always to boil down to commitment; the same commitment that is needed to excel in anything. There are no quick fixes, no magic pills to make us whole, happy and successful. No matter what culture we explore, we can find wisdom. The trick is to find a practice that resonates with us and commit to it.
Upon awaking on our final morning, I was grateful for the insight into this new way of thinking and glad I now have more tools to add to my trusty toolbox. I was eager to leave the beautiful yet rustic surroundings, the basic cuisine, and most of all, to leave the compost toilet behind. My modern vanities were calling me once again.
Upon awaking on our final morning, I was grateful for the insight into this new way of thinking and glad I now have more tools to add to my trusty toolbox. I was eager to leave the beautiful yet rustic surroundings, the basic cuisine, and most of all, to leave the compost toilet behind. My modern vanities were calling me once again.
After our goodbyes and obligatory hugs, my husband and I hit the road. Vibrating from my newfound wisdom my immediate craving was for a Diet Coke; I'm just a simple girl. We drove though the pedestrian town of Espanola in search of the first fast food joint. We pulled into a Sonic, drove up to the drive-in window where dear husband was so confused by the absence of an actual restaurant, restroom, and completely befuddled by the ordering process and the multitude of offerings, he actually drove out!
OY, Commitment! Have we lost it?
Live in color,
Abby
OY, Commitment! Have we lost it?
Live in color,
Abby
- Published on
Thank you for joining me on this ride.
What direction Perspectives takes is still a mystery to me, like most things in my life. I am hoping this site will be more than pretty images, and intriguing narrative. I am hoping to touch upon life's conundrums, you know, the ones that make you scratch your head and say, WTF.
We all struggle to make sense of life and may take assorted avenues to find meaning and purpose; my avenue of choice is photography. A quality image requires more than the camera of the moment, it requires an investment of my time and energy. If I whittle down, time and energy even further, the real prerequisite in photography is to be present, for it is in the being still that I can touch upon the vital undercurrents and clarity hidden within.
Just as being present is essential for a good photographic image, it is also a requirement for a well-lived life. This week I am off to a Council Wheel workshop in the mountains of New Mexico, uncovering the legacy of the Mayan people. This is cool stuff! This workshop intends to unveil the ancient earth-based traditions of the Yucatan Peninsula, adding relevance to the world around us. The first request from our instructor is the commitment to be present. Hummmmm, its amazing how this being present thing keeps popping up.
I look forward to sharing my Council Wheel experiences with you, along with any fringe and bead laden trinkets I may stumble across. Feathers, leather and beads, oh my!
Live in Color,
Abby
What direction Perspectives takes is still a mystery to me, like most things in my life. I am hoping this site will be more than pretty images, and intriguing narrative. I am hoping to touch upon life's conundrums, you know, the ones that make you scratch your head and say, WTF.
We all struggle to make sense of life and may take assorted avenues to find meaning and purpose; my avenue of choice is photography. A quality image requires more than the camera of the moment, it requires an investment of my time and energy. If I whittle down, time and energy even further, the real prerequisite in photography is to be present, for it is in the being still that I can touch upon the vital undercurrents and clarity hidden within.
Just as being present is essential for a good photographic image, it is also a requirement for a well-lived life. This week I am off to a Council Wheel workshop in the mountains of New Mexico, uncovering the legacy of the Mayan people. This is cool stuff! This workshop intends to unveil the ancient earth-based traditions of the Yucatan Peninsula, adding relevance to the world around us. The first request from our instructor is the commitment to be present. Hummmmm, its amazing how this being present thing keeps popping up.
I look forward to sharing my Council Wheel experiences with you, along with any fringe and bead laden trinkets I may stumble across. Feathers, leather and beads, oh my!
Live in Color,
Abby
- Published on
Where do you go when you need a little calm in your life? When you had it with life's annoyances, where do you retreat to?
Twenty-five years ago I ran away to the woods of Vermont, leaving behind my metropolitan vanities for the simplicity and grandeur of the Green Mountain woodlands. There I found a connection to the natural rhythms of the forest, which is what I needed at the time, however now, it's the ocean that calls me.
Last month, I boarded a 80 foot schooner in the Boston harbor for a sunset cruise in the attempt to escape the despairing headlines and a frazzled mind. There is something about being on the water that lifts the veil of confusion and allows a momentary respite from life's melodrama. There is also something about watching athletic young men hoist unruly sails, harnessing the swelling canvas and the billowing wind. With the engines off, and sails weighted with the balmy fall breeze, the silence of the water consumes me.
Twenty-five years ago I ran away to the woods of Vermont, leaving behind my metropolitan vanities for the simplicity and grandeur of the Green Mountain woodlands. There I found a connection to the natural rhythms of the forest, which is what I needed at the time, however now, it's the ocean that calls me.
Last month, I boarded a 80 foot schooner in the Boston harbor for a sunset cruise in the attempt to escape the despairing headlines and a frazzled mind. There is something about being on the water that lifts the veil of confusion and allows a momentary respite from life's melodrama. There is also something about watching athletic young men hoist unruly sails, harnessing the swelling canvas and the billowing wind. With the engines off, and sails weighted with the balmy fall breeze, the silence of the water consumes me.
The only request I made of myself while boarding the vessel was to leave my monkeys on the dock. In meditation circles the term "monkey mind" is often used to describe ones overactive mind, comparing it to a horde of monkeys jumping and jabbering, all screeching for your attention. Each monkey has its own agenda and their names are a clue, Lethargy, Abandonment, and the most detestable of all, is the monkey named Fear. Confusion and indecision arise from these rampant primates, and it's our job to tame them. I wanted more than to tame them, I wanted to leave my monkeys behind on the weathered dock.
As the wind picked up, the vessel listed to the starboard side; I hung on to the freshly polished railing, and just smiled. For me, there is nothing to be found on the water except freedom.
We strive to find our unique place in the world, a solid place, sometimes described as one where your feet are firmly on the ground, yet gliding across the oceans wild surface, is anything but solid. So where does this calm come from? Could it be the surrendering to the unknown, accepting the mystery that encompasses us, to just hang on for the ride? It seems the simple act of being or surrendering, buttons ups the incorrigible monkeys, allowing peace and calm.
My three hour cruise, minus the Professor and Marianne, proved successful; the monkeys stayed stranded on the dock, and on board, a slight chop and clear mind prevailed.
As the wind picked up, the vessel listed to the starboard side; I hung on to the freshly polished railing, and just smiled. For me, there is nothing to be found on the water except freedom.
We strive to find our unique place in the world, a solid place, sometimes described as one where your feet are firmly on the ground, yet gliding across the oceans wild surface, is anything but solid. So where does this calm come from? Could it be the surrendering to the unknown, accepting the mystery that encompasses us, to just hang on for the ride? It seems the simple act of being or surrendering, buttons ups the incorrigible monkeys, allowing peace and calm.
My three hour cruise, minus the Professor and Marianne, proved successful; the monkeys stayed stranded on the dock, and on board, a slight chop and clear mind prevailed.
Give yourself a gift and visit your sanctuary today. Reward yourself with a few moments of calm, tame your monkeys, or better yet, leave them on the dock.
Live in Color,
Abby
Live in Color,
Abby