#69 - Morphed Roses

What is a valuable lesson to be learned from having health battles? I believe a huge take-away lesson is to see the simplistic things in life more vibrantly.

The old saying "...stop and smell the roses," is an old saying for a reason. It has profoundness. When you are one-track minded and too rushed in life, you don't make enough time to stop to smell the roses or anything else for that matter, unless it intrudes upon your senses, unwelcomed. Those roses for me, after my diagnosis, morphed into that precious moment of listening to my child sing along with the radio, to being hypnotized by the trees swaying in the breeze, to feeling the touch of my husband's skin against my own and in hearing music as rich as Mozart in someone's laughter...things have become skewed in a more beautiful, meaningful way. In many ways, I feel like a child again --- simple life experiences are fresh and captivating.

I'd always loved photography as a amateur hobby. Watching people and focusing on nature through the lens of a camera had always been a fun past-time. However, after I was diagnosed with Addison's, I began seeing photography in a different way. I would look through the viewfinder and see the world with a foreign brain. Everything I had once ignored or had not found worth my time (the roses) had suddenly become fragrant and needing to be preserved by making time to notice or more permanently remembered by the click of my finger.

Hurricane Ike damage still seen here near our home.
Beautiful Danger.

Today, photography is fun. There isn't much posing. I rarely have a "wasted" shot because I can often find some element in the shot worth saving by cropping. I find joy even in the weird moments and am enthralled by standard, boring still-life that screams at me to be noticed.

Liter at a boat launch near our house.
To be fair, there was a huge city celebration at the bay, the previous day.

Eventually, I began taking studies at the University of Houston - Clear Lake for photography. However, I elected to not study digital photography. My professor, Van Edwards, was incredible. He let me choose what I wanted to do, within academic reason. Even my Advanced Photography classes embraced the dark room and all that comes with such an addicting ability.

My grandmother was a professional photographer. My uncle was a professional photographer. These people worked in the old photography studios when the cameras were not self-adjusting, you had to know what you were doing. Best of all, my brother-in-law is an accomplished, published photographer and I have his link attached to my "favorites" at my Home Page. He is an old-style, take it to an ultra-talented level photographer. He even builds his own pin-hole cameras out of antique lunch boxes, cardboard cereal boxes and whatever else he can find. I am jealous.

I am a happy girl this past weekend as we have old-fashioned fun.

I am thankful for my Addison's and other health issues for opening my eyes wider than was originally physically possible. Just as the camera lens can be changed and re-focused, so has been the road for the lenses built into my God-given eyes. After Addison's, I had a marked shift of focus. Nothing looked the same as I peered through the same eyes I'd been born with. Life itself was different. Red became more than a color, it became a great statement. Dull brown became brilliant and shimmering to my altered perspective. My world had changed.

This past weekend...cast net find that won't let go!

Since I don't have a dark room, I enjoy my little digital camera. For me, all the gadgets, cool computer programs and endless digital alterations will never compare to the excitement of being in the dark-room as I watch the image take form...controlling light and shadow in an intimate manner. Still, I am currently a digital gal.

Today, when I take my camera around with me, I am enticed to capture the smell, the sound and odd things overlooked. Simplistic is fantastic. Mingling my internal eye with the eye of a camera brings new life to me. For this changed blend, I am thankful.

Serenity within five minutes of our house,
as long as a hurricane is not approaching!