...of land mines.
Hippos and Rhinos unite.
This morning on a grey, rainy day...there was magical light and life...reminding me yet again why I do what I do...
I’m surrounded by good people, doing good things.
Stories that, on some level, we can all relate to…and rally around.
I want to ensure that these stories are seen.
I want to ensure people are aware of all of the good they are surrounded by.
I want to ensure people see and feel how connected we are.
I want that positive energy to resonate.
To instill an underlying drum beat…creating forward motion….where our collective lights shine bright.
As a photographer, I’m successful when people provide me with access.
…and honestly it works the same way for all of us.
...when we openly share our stories with each other.
This is about more than a t-shirt.
This is a movement.
Here’s Oliver, waiting for the train ride at the local carnival.
No devices, toys or other distractions.
…and for me, there was (and is) something magical about that.
Palpable, focused energy.
…a reminder that perhaps I should let a few of these spinning plates fall around me.
…and lean in.
It was windy and cold that day — weather that would have typically had him saying ‘Inside’.
But the reservoir’s magic pulled him in, like it does to me every time.
There were seagulls to chase.
Ducks and geese to walk amongst.
Sand to play in.
I love that he appreciates being out and about in the wild with nature.
I love that I could share that with him...
It's probably the scariest thing I can imagine.
My heart pounds just thinking about it.
If I can help it, I avoid the spotlight at all costs.
I find comfort behind the camera...
...but I've come to realize that in order to grow I need to step out from behind it from time to time.
In order for anything to change in my life, I've got to do something different.
So with that in mind...
On Saturday afternoon I attended the Stoop Storytelling Workshop at The BIG Theater.
For anyone that knows me well, on a typical St Patrick's Day you'll find me nestled in a pub...so doing this was huge.
Out of approximately 36 attendees, I was the only male.
As anxious as I was walking in, by the time I left, I was comfortable and really glad that I went.
Telling stories to strangers is a truly vulnerable, yet rewarding experience.
Stories connect us.
Human interaction at the most basic level.
Truly powerful schtuff.
Something I need more of.
Something I need to be brave enough to do again.
Face my fear.
Shine my light.
...when we look up.
...of a little boy who can successfully evade an afternoon nap until we introduce his kryptonite — a car ride.