March 15, 2017

In my own time

Ode to PJB; a portrait of myself at the tail end of Thirty. Photo by Jill Zach
I just gave myself a funny little haircut and the result of my wild hand going to town on the nape of my neck made me laugh aloud at 11:30 at night in my funny bathroom with the green sink. This is thirty. A nick in the neck, oh well.

I am one month from thirty one and in a good place with myself. When I reflect on the course of the fiscal year, I see strong family ties, nothing but love and laughter between my sweetheart and I, a warm home we feel comfortable to let our hair down in, a running vehicle that gets us to and fro, a vibrant community, a steady and life-giving job, food on the table and a darkroom in the basement. Rich life! It's not always easy, no. Sometimes I ask myself what the hell I am doing, doing what I'm doing. But then I remember to look at the big picture and after a while I ease back to that place of peace and trust in the fact that I'm just doing what I'm doing to get where I need to go. In my own time, as Karen Dalton would croon.

Opportunities to collaborate with different people have been springing up. I had my cards read by a dear friend a few months ago and one of the main messages was a strong push to volunteer more of my time and to put more into the community around me. I've been seeking new opportunities to explore this through photography. Last week Wednesday, on International Women's Day, I photographed a lovely fundraiser party for the Women's Health Clinic in Winnipeg. It was a good event to experiment with a new-to-me camera (Iain's trusty Canon AE-1 and my favorite film pushed a bit). People were open and warm. The light was right despite it being night time. It just wasn't the kind of event to blast people in the face with my flash. After processing the film, I was pleased with what I had observed and recorded on film. Good job. I was proud to deliver the goods on such a snappy turn around. Fingers crossed I'll see one or two crop up in the social section of the local rag. Film is alive and well in this casa. Negatives hang on the line to dry as I write.

The moon wanes and so do I.

Bed time for this old boot.

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