There are stories behind the photo: the photographer, the background sounds, smells, and feelings. I like looking and remembering, tasting, smelling and feeling the moments. Was I happy? Healthy? Busy? Relaxed? Sad? ? In love? Out of sorts? In my body? I Like the idea of posting a picture and writing about some aspect of that picture. I like challenges. I like being asked to think and go inside and share. The vulnerability is scary, but what the hey...
Orcas Island August 2005:
With every slam into the earth a bit of my anger was absorbed by her. What the heck was I so angry about? Mad at Pete, or so I thought. Slam! He's so.... Slam! Why does he... Slam! I hate when he... Slam! What was it? Was I being sensitive? Over analytical? Stubborn? Can't remember exactly. I was mad and hurt by something he hadn't a clue he did.
I loved cutting into that grass, imagining the rocks that would sit in the hole I was digging. They would be very hot rocks...carried from a big, erratic flame by a piece of metal and dropped into the pit I was creating.
They would burn the soil when placed there.
There would be a smell that would only be familiar in ancestral parts of the brain and the rocks would sit there red and sizzling and waiting.
That was me. Red, hot, angry...waiting for something. Then the moment would come when a group of people would surround the rocks, naked, with intention. Intention for cleansing, healing, challenge, pain, renewal, newness...a feeling of comfort with the naked bodies and spirits around them. Monumental. Unforgettable. Life changing. Perspective offering. Sweat.
Somehow the act of creating the sweat--structure and vessel--gave me the perspective I needed to stop being angry. To put the tool down and walk over to the man I love and say, from the depths of my heart, "hey...lets talk, I am feeling hurt".
The conversation did happen, on a huge trampoline. But thats another story.
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