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There’s no way of escaping the complexity of life ー or is there?
We spend half our lives accumulating. We are no better than scurrying chipmunks stockpiling nuts for the long winter, who run on the theory, more is better. But is more always better?
Now that I am well ensconced in my second half of life, nuts no longer have much appeal. There are times I envy the Buddhist monk who travels the world with only his bowl and saffron robe. OK Abby, snap out of it! That's a bit extreme, however, dare I imagine life without the weight of nuts to slow me down?
We spend half our lives accumulating. We are no better than scurrying chipmunks stockpiling nuts for the long winter, who run on the theory, more is better. But is more always better?
Now that I am well ensconced in my second half of life, nuts no longer have much appeal. There are times I envy the Buddhist monk who travels the world with only his bowl and saffron robe. OK Abby, snap out of it! That's a bit extreme, however, dare I imagine life without the weight of nuts to slow me down?
This new found philosophy became apparent first through my photography. The complex photo has taken a back seat to simplicity. It is now the purity of clean lines and shapes that appeal to me. The elegant, form rich image now feeds my inner self. While composing an image today all I need to do is create an intriguing space to breath, celebrating the moment.
Think of it as a meditative moment, from me to you.
Think of it as a meditative moment, from me to you.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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It happens silently. Dotage arrives one dark night and takes up residence upon your chest. It lies on you like a fat cat with no intentions of moving. Each breath then becomes more meaningful.
Just like everything else, how you choose to deal with this oppressive feline is entirely up to you. Option one, throw him off and continue to run in circles or, Option two, make yourself comfy and retire to a place of contemplation.
You could choose to feel his suffocating weight, the heaviness that constricts your every movement, or choose another perspective. Every thing, has two sides, even a fat cat.
Beyond the obvious heaviness, there is also a warmth that cloaks you. It gently holds you down as it softly whispers, there is no place to run to ー be here, now.
The trick is not to buckle from it's weight but, to surrender to the hushed murmur of it's wisdom. Stillness creates the space for the crone's sageness to slowing ooze into your being. It is in this quietude you discover that action is not always appropriate. Inaction is the key to open the treasure trove of insight.
There is no place to run to ー be here, now.
Live in color,
Abby
Thank you to the Blanchette's for their handsome feline.
Just like everything else, how you choose to deal with this oppressive feline is entirely up to you. Option one, throw him off and continue to run in circles or, Option two, make yourself comfy and retire to a place of contemplation.
You could choose to feel his suffocating weight, the heaviness that constricts your every movement, or choose another perspective. Every thing, has two sides, even a fat cat.
Beyond the obvious heaviness, there is also a warmth that cloaks you. It gently holds you down as it softly whispers, there is no place to run to ー be here, now.
The trick is not to buckle from it's weight but, to surrender to the hushed murmur of it's wisdom. Stillness creates the space for the crone's sageness to slowing ooze into your being. It is in this quietude you discover that action is not always appropriate. Inaction is the key to open the treasure trove of insight.
There is no place to run to ー be here, now.
Live in color,
Abby
Thank you to the Blanchette's for their handsome feline.
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With my feet planted firmly on the ground and head erect, I can obtain a broad and expansive perspective of the world. Or can I?
Sweeping landscapes offer splendid vantage points, however my favorite is the macro perspective.
Sweeping landscapes offer splendid vantage points, however my favorite is the macro perspective.
Lying down on moist grass, peering through blades of new growth, fills me with wonder. Oh, to have Alice's magic potion, labeled "DRINK ME". How I would love for just a moment, to shrink to the size of a beetle and slide down the stalk of a leaf, dropping me into nature’s hidden realm.
In my new beetle body, I would scale the foliage as if it was the Andes. I would drop into the verdant caverns and float in the pristine dew ponds, paddling like mad with my tiny jointed legs.
I imagine lying amongst the towering fronds, while gazing up at the beads of moisture creating columns of mirrors, catching the morning’s light putting Versailles’s Hall of Mirrors to shame. While gliding across my crystal pool it is here the magnitude of nature’s mystery is apparent.
Excuse me while I drift.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
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Please join me as I re-visit San Miguel, however this time...in color.
The colors of my life are bountiful and bold,
The purple glow of indigo, the gleam of green and gold.
The splendor of a sunrise, the dazzle of a flame
The glorying a rainbow, I'd put them all to shame.
No quiet browns and grays, I'll take my days instead
And fill them 'til they overflow with rose and cherry red!
And should this sunlit world grow dark one day
The colors of my life will leave a shinning light to show the way.
Thank you Cy Coleman for your wonderful lyrics to The Color of My Life from the play Barnum.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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It was a long winter.
The snowbound days of a Vermont winter bring interminably long nights, and excruciatingly short days. I dreaded those months, but no longer. I have discovered that the relentless solitude provides me the opportunity to re-boot. Come January, I slip into a sort of creative incubation. Without the stimulation of being in nature, without its glorious melodies and scents, without the moist grass, slipping between my toes, I grow quiet...until Spring's first shimmering shafts of light appear.
The snowbound days of a Vermont winter bring interminably long nights, and excruciatingly short days. I dreaded those months, but no longer. I have discovered that the relentless solitude provides me the opportunity to re-boot. Come January, I slip into a sort of creative incubation. Without the stimulation of being in nature, without its glorious melodies and scents, without the moist grass, slipping between my toes, I grow quiet...until Spring's first shimmering shafts of light appear.
A return visit to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico this month, provided me a jumpstart on my much needed light therapy.
I discovered something new, photographically speaking, with this visit to SMA. Not completely awake from my creative slumber, I strolled the streets each day in search of inspiration. Finally, day 7, there it was — shafts of light. The vibrant confetti colors of San Miguel took a back seat this time to light. Light, the very ingredient that was missing from my Vermont diet, the essential building block I was starving for.
I discovered something new, photographically speaking, with this visit to SMA. Not completely awake from my creative slumber, I strolled the streets each day in search of inspiration. Finally, day 7, there it was — shafts of light. The vibrant confetti colors of San Miguel took a back seat this time to light. Light, the very ingredient that was missing from my Vermont diet, the essential building block I was starving for.
With streaks of light revealing themselves to me wherever I turned, I realized it was my light deprivation that made me hypersensitive. How could I possibly appreciate light if I never experienced the darkness of winter? How could I appreciate the sun's warmth without enduring the frigid days of the north? Simply, I can't. It was this contrast that led me to a valuable understanding.
Finding myself washed in both shadow and light, I gave permission for this phenomenon to take hold. I stopped cursing the cold of the north and settled down to what was. Our entire physical world is based on duality, so I better get with the program, and accept what is.
Thank you darkness, thank you light.
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby
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They are a century apart, but still, there is a connection.
There may be vast differences between the sisters in Renoir's Pink and Blue painting, and these two impressionable young girls, however, what was it that held them transfixed?
On a recent visit to the São Paulo Museum of Art, I was intrigued by the museum's expansive picture gallery. The exhibit is unique on many fronts, from how it is displayed, literally in an off-the-wall manner, to an extensive collection of 4th century to contemporary works hung in chronological order. That afternoon, two things caught my attention, Renoir's Pink and Blue portrait, and two young girls running from painting to painting with their LED sneakers flashing with each step.
Then something wonderfully spontaneous happened, the two girls frenetic pace came to a screeching halt when their eyes fell upon Renoir's masterpiece. Why should this 1881 portrait of two sisters make them stop? More importantly, what held them there? Magically Renoir's painting made an immediate impression on these two Brazilian girls, probably sisters. In the painting's stillness and silence, a connection was made between sister and sister, and past and present.
I can only imagine the Brazilian sisters trying to make sense of the life that was depicted in Pink and Blue, comparing it to their own fast paced life in a sprawling metropolis. The differences between the two pairs of sisters was apparent, however, it was the similarities that kept them mesmerized. Funny thing how art has a way of putting your own life in context.
If you are lucky enough to have a young one in your life, pry them away from their mobile device, take them to a museum, and just see what connections may form.
Live in color,
Abby
There may be vast differences between the sisters in Renoir's Pink and Blue painting, and these two impressionable young girls, however, what was it that held them transfixed?
On a recent visit to the São Paulo Museum of Art, I was intrigued by the museum's expansive picture gallery. The exhibit is unique on many fronts, from how it is displayed, literally in an off-the-wall manner, to an extensive collection of 4th century to contemporary works hung in chronological order. That afternoon, two things caught my attention, Renoir's Pink and Blue portrait, and two young girls running from painting to painting with their LED sneakers flashing with each step.
Then something wonderfully spontaneous happened, the two girls frenetic pace came to a screeching halt when their eyes fell upon Renoir's masterpiece. Why should this 1881 portrait of two sisters make them stop? More importantly, what held them there? Magically Renoir's painting made an immediate impression on these two Brazilian girls, probably sisters. In the painting's stillness and silence, a connection was made between sister and sister, and past and present.
I can only imagine the Brazilian sisters trying to make sense of the life that was depicted in Pink and Blue, comparing it to their own fast paced life in a sprawling metropolis. The differences between the two pairs of sisters was apparent, however, it was the similarities that kept them mesmerized. Funny thing how art has a way of putting your own life in context.
If you are lucky enough to have a young one in your life, pry them away from their mobile device, take them to a museum, and just see what connections may form.
Live in color,
Abby
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Street artists are the engines for vision and experimentation. They are the nonconformists that remain curious and creative. They have the temerity to buck convention every chance they get. Nowhere is that more visible than within the city walls of São Paulo, Brazil.
Wedged between its tree-lined boulevards, with the glistening silver towers of opulence, and its shabby, shanty villages, lies the artful neighborhood of Vila Madalena. This area is best known for its outrageous street art. The meandering passageways of Vila Madalena have become a living museum, giving homage to the renegade artist.
At the epicenter of this hood lies Beco do Batman, better known as Batman Alley. Every inch of paintable surface of this winding alleyway is covered in street art. Not a trash bin, signpost, or step is spared from the artist's spray can, even splattering to the cobblestones under foot.
The first installation was painted back in the 80's. Two guesses what it was. You guessed it: the caped crusader himself, Batman. Since then street artists, alongside fine art students, take turns decorating the crude, stucco walls. The content includes, stunning black and white illustrations, three-dimensional abstractions, and psychedelic flights of fancy.
Within these narrow passageways we witness what artists do best — astound. Visitors are entranced. Tourists, beside São Paulo residents, walk amongst these phantasmagorical images in a state of wonder.
Being caught up in a whirl of marvel myself, I was reminded that these artists are our mentors. They emphasize the importance of never closing ourselves off to curiosity and experimentation. They demonstrate that breaking the rules can be liberating, exhilarating and even amusing.
As we enter 2017 can we think like a street artist? Can we be adventurous, daring, and when everyone else turns right, turn left? Most importantly, can we challenge ourselves to push our boundaries, for creativity is the essence of life.
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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In the dark of night, a metamorphosis occurs. Without warning or fanfare, nature begins to dress for winter.
Seasons change like acts in a play, each with its own cast of characters, conflicts and resolutions. Scene one: introduction of characters.
Seasons change like acts in a play, each with its own cast of characters, conflicts and resolutions. Scene one: introduction of characters.
On a crisp, late fall morning, nature wakes, icebound.
Overnight, Winter descends upon my bucolic pond. A stunning cloak of glistening crystals forms in the dead of night, weaving its way across the freshly frozen surface. The falling leaves and migrating birds all have been silenced by the introduction of this frosty character. Feeling like an intruder, Winter makes his presence known in an oh so chilly manner.
Overnight, Winter descends upon my bucolic pond. A stunning cloak of glistening crystals forms in the dead of night, weaving its way across the freshly frozen surface. The falling leaves and migrating birds all have been silenced by the introduction of this frosty character. Feeling like an intruder, Winter makes his presence known in an oh so chilly manner.
What is Winter's intention? Is it to slow me down, allowing me to rest, and to restore? Or, are his intentions a bit more sinister?
For today, Winter has simply brought a frozen silence...
For today, Winter has simply brought a frozen silence...
The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear."
~ Ram Dass
Live in color,
Abby
Abby
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What lens do you look through?
Last year I had the opportunity to attend a Native American Council Wheel workshop in New Mexico. The Wheel rose out of the Mayan culture as a sort of crisis management tool that can add discernment to any situation. 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. The Wheel aids in conflict resolution by helping to understanding an issue, by examining it from many angles.
During these turbulent times it is essential to allow ourselves to look at our current issues through a multitude of lenses. That is where wisdom lines.
When did we become a country where it's my way or the highway? Where has dialogue gone? Where has compromise gone? Where has compassion gone?
Politicians on both sides have not done us any favors. They have pitted family member against family member, friend against friend. We are better than that, we are smarter than that.
Whatever side you are on, I ask you to look at any concern from several perspectives. Allow the astute thinking of the Native American Indian to take hold, and guide you to become more tolerant and open to the differences amongst us.
Last year I had the opportunity to attend a Native American Council Wheel workshop in New Mexico. The Wheel rose out of the Mayan culture as a sort of crisis management tool that can add discernment to any situation. 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. The Wheel aids in conflict resolution by helping to understanding an issue, by examining it from many angles.
During these turbulent times it is essential to allow ourselves to look at our current issues through a multitude of lenses. That is where wisdom lines.
When did we become a country where it's my way or the highway? Where has dialogue gone? Where has compromise gone? Where has compassion gone?
Politicians on both sides have not done us any favors. They have pitted family member against family member, friend against friend. We are better than that, we are smarter than that.
Whatever side you are on, I ask you to look at any concern from several perspectives. Allow the astute thinking of the Native American Indian to take hold, and guide you to become more tolerant and open to the differences amongst us.
I am fortunate to have a range of lenses safety tucked away in my camera bag. These lenses allow me to view my world differently with just the twist of my wrist. When I do see the world through a macro, or wide angle lens, Wow! My whole perspective changes.
This has nothing to do with changing my mind, or winning someone to my side, this has everything to do with opening myself up to compassion and understanding toward my fellow human.
How many lenses are you willing to look through?
Live in color,
Abby
This has nothing to do with changing my mind, or winning someone to my side, this has everything to do with opening myself up to compassion and understanding toward my fellow human.
How many lenses are you willing to look through?
Live in color,
Abby
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If you had only the eyes of a person to reveal who he or she really is, what would you see?
People fascinate me. Meeting people far beyond my realm of reference appeals to me. Travel allows me to step outside of my own comfy, gilded box, into the world of others. Navigating through a solitary, sometimes uncomfortable space, is what stirs my kettle of curiosity.
People fascinate me. Meeting people far beyond my realm of reference appeals to me. Travel allows me to step outside of my own comfy, gilded box, into the world of others. Navigating through a solitary, sometimes uncomfortable space, is what stirs my kettle of curiosity.
I was once asked, how can I travel to exotic locations, having very little knowledge of the local language and still communicate? My response is simple...just smile. My recipe for melting away cultural barriers is to smile first, then look at a person straight in the eye, and genuinely connect.
Whether it is a child on a mother's back, or an elegant elderly woman sitting on temple steps, I find the same quality in their eyes...their vital spark. Yes, the old cliche' is true: the eyes are portals of the soul. There is a vulnerability that resides only within a person's eyes that is undeniable. That is where a person's truth lies, not in the choice of clothes, the number of lines on their face, or dare I say, the color of their skin.
Each time I return home from a trip I promise myself, now and forever more, I will look beyond a person's external wrappings. I will look beyond their disappointment and fear, beyond their bravado and anger, and instead look deeply into their eyes, unmasking their radiant spirit.
It's a challenge at times to peel away the protective cloaks of others. However, if you are willing to strip the layers away, one by one, you will discover glistening gold in them there eyes.
It's a challenge at times to peel away the protective cloaks of others. However, if you are willing to strip the layers away, one by one, you will discover glistening gold in them there eyes.
Up for the challenge?
Live in color,
Abby
Live in color,
Abby