Venturing into a neighborhood not my own, I find quiet and space. But first, I look to the water that drew me to California so many years ago. I would never let go of my love affair with this state, despite the earthquakes, fires and high cost of living. What it has given me is more than what it could ever take away. It is important not to take this for granted, even when it's hard to do much outside of the house these pandemic days. For now, these walks are simple but satisfying. 

The houses in this unfamiliar neighborhood remind me of visiting my relatives in northern and southern California. The variety of plants and house colors are a different palette than were in my home state. After each vacation, I would dream of a future home painted vibrant colors that glow in the pacific salted sun. 

Here, I try to avoid the few humans I do see. I hear rustling beside me, thinking I was going to be caught unaware.  I look over my shoulder to see two deer staring at me, curious but cautious. We watch each other assessing the closeness. Am I hindering their peaceful feeding time? Are they wondering what my next move will be? It is always the camera, my tool of unforgetting. 

​Since March, my world, like most people's, has gotten pretty small. I spend all of my days at home, wondering when I will wake from the very tumultuous nightmare I have been having. Except, it is not a bad dream any of us can wake out of. It is a global reality with so many complicated layers. We can be vigilant about protecting each other from the pandemic and from the hate that grows faster than the virus we fear. It is a time of reflection with many true catalysts for change. We are in the overwhelm together, and my hope is we will come out the other side with more hope, compassion and knowledge. 

I gave up my art studio recently and have been grappling with how to express my creativity outside of the designated space I had gotten so accustomed to. Having planned the studio move-out pre-pandemic, I had been hoping to give painting a break in favor of a return to photography. Photo never leaves me, as I use my own source images in my paintings. I was looking forward to the immediacy of the camera over the brush and ready to dive right back in again. Not able to freely move within the urban environment I like to document, I played with beads; I drew; I toyed with watercolor; I wrote a thing or two. I stirred and wept, feeling like I couldn't find my voice and wondered what place it held in a world turned upside down. 

Finally, I decided to stop spinning and started taking photos on my neighborhood walks. (My current locale is a bit more rural). At first, this was just with my phone, until Monday when I dusted off the camera. With my camera in tow, I am quiet, reflective, aware and the most myself. 

If you blink too lazily, you can get caught sleeping, so why not move through life with eyes wide open?