why

the hardest question ever asked.  why?

when a child asks, we accept it as curiosity.  but it's the rare adult that can pose a why without evoking at least a suspicion of judgment.  at least that's how it seems to me and, unsurprisingly, i've been wondering why.

when i started writing this blog, i had a different direction in mind for answering the question.  i'd been studying the way people around me posed their why-queries and trying to discern what magic phrasing or intonation or accompanying facial expression was required in order to sidestep suspicion and subsequent defensiveness.  but when i tried my hand at the techniques i observed, my results were mixed.  and so, this blog has had a title and opening line for a week, but that's about it. 

and then, just like when you carefully give a wide berth to the coffee table in the dark living room but bang your knee on the chair instead, i realized i had it all wrong.  looking to the questioner for the answer to the question, both figuratively and literally, made no sense at all.  especially considering the past couple weeks in my life, where i've found myself quite unexpectedly on the receiving end of why questions over and over again about my boudoir photo shoot. 

 a why question with a complex, multi-layered, and nuanced (yes, that's three words for the same thing, i know...#westwing) answer was the perfect medium to examine my internal response.  and rather than evaluating literally how i was asked why, i looked instead at how i heard and felt the question.  and imagine my surprise to learn my ears were affected by a shadow, the shadow cast by insecurity.  a shadow occasionally dark enough to obscure a healthy, natural, inquisitive why.

this likely sounds absolutely insane considering my last blog was about the enormous confidence boost i received from the very same photo shoot.  let me clarify.  the insecurity that crept in at times when confronted with the why wasn't about the actual portraits or my appearance in them.

but rather about what it means about me as a mother (priorities!) and as a professional woman (respectable!).
what it means that i was willing to spend the money on something purely selfish.  (wasteful!)
what it means that i wanted to see myself beautiful.  (vain!)
what it means that i wanted to see myself sexy.  (inappropriate!) 
what it means that i do.

so, while i answered every why question posed with a similar answer, 'to see if i could do it.. to feel beautiful.. to reconnect with myself and my body,' i felt varying levels of insecurity about how the questioner judged my answers. 

and when i came to terms with this as the why under the why, i thought, that's a damn shame.  literally.  it's like the second verse of the same song.  the same song that made me cry when i admitted how many of the pictures i wanted, ashamed of my pride.  this second verse gave air to some societal "mom-shaming" standards i didn't even know i'd bought into, they were so deeply buried.

but no more.  the answer to the question is multi-faceted and layered, as are most people and decisions.  and perhaps that description of the answer is the best answer itself.

why? 
because i am multi-faceted and layered and wish to celebrate them all.

d:  bring on the why's
b:  reframing my self-image
g:  the judgment came only from within

selfie

i think i was around 13 when i first had a desire to know what i looked like.  i remember buying a handheld mirror and studying my face in it.  i looked unfamiliar to myself and i wondered if somehow i had missed an important milestone in my childhood.  i committed my features to memory and promptly lost interest. 

i count myself very fortunate to have been generally absent any unhealthy body image issues as a teen and young woman.  to my mom's credit, i wholeheartedly embraced her wise mantra, 'beauty is on the inside' and was spared the agony so many young women inflict upon themselves, striving for a beauty ideal only obtainable through photoshop and eating disorders. 

perhaps this is the reason that my minds' selfies are all time-stamped.  i have a handful of discrete images in my memory of my appearance.
the first, mentioned above, at 13, handheld mirror, indian style on my bed.
another at 16, likely an attempt to understand what my newfound first love saw in me.
then my next mental selfie isn't until 23, a new mother with baby todd in my arms.  i know exactly what i looked like then.
another time stamp in the year 2000, when i came out at age 26.  i immediately cut my hair short in celebration of my new identity and wanting to look the part.
34 years old: a brush with my mortality had clarified much in my life..suddenly, looking the part wasn't as important as looking like myself.  i let my hair grow out, embraced its newfound curl and my femininity.

and then, at 35, there's a shift in my mental selfie album, from snapshots to a flickering film strip. paradoxically during some of the happiest years of my life, i was my most body self-conscious... perhaps it was the hyper focus on my fitness or perhaps the constant desire to document the joy in my life, or more likely - the combination of the two.  regardless, both came to an abrupt halt when my marriage ended and with that loss, the film strip snapped. 

in the years since, while i've healed in many ways, i've also resigned myself to the loss of my 'glory days.'  and accordingly my mind's selfie camera hadn't bothered to document my appearance, instead creating a self-image from behind my eyes that was essentially adequate and unremarkable.

and all of that is the prologue to what has spurred me to write today.   

amid an internet search for a lifestyle photographer to document myself and the boys, before the imminent empty nest, i stumbled upon a photographer of an entirely different nature and fell in love with her work.  her eye for composition and lighting and the mood her work captured - i felt an immediate connection to her art.  (because there was really no other word for it.)  

i read every word of her website, (including three and a half years of blogs), embracing her bubbly enthusiastic personality juxtaposed with the creative intensity evident in her photography.

but --- meagan was a boudoir photographer.  gulp.  what did it mean that i felt this strong pull to book a session of nearly naked, sexy photos of myself??  i didn't think for a second that i would walk away from the endeavor with photos that looked like the women on her website.  i've already established that i believed my glory days behind me, right? but i emailed anyway, tentatively, asking for a price list and hoping both that i could and couldn't afford the investment.  the latter would make the decision a lot easier, after all. 

her nearly immediate reply began with: "Thanks so much for reaching out!!! I would love love LOVE to get you in the studio for a boudoir session!"  and went on to explain the ins and outs of the process in similar exclamation-point-laden excitement.  i could hardly believe this giddy woman was the same one with what must be serious, technical skills and a mad eye for finding beauty in women.  (spoiler alert: she's one and the same.  imagine tigger, from winnie the pooh, with a creative streak that rivals the greats.)  

i scheduled her first available date - which was six extremely long weeks away - and descended into an obsessive internet vortex of lingerie shopping and boudoir photography study. being the information junkie that i am, i quieted my nerves with an overload of learning.  my research bore out two things in very short order: 
1.  there's a science to this art.  the extreme technicality of the posing, lighting, and shooting gave me some reassurance that little relied on me.
2.  very few photographers in this space have mastered both aspects: science and art.  meagan's portfolio left no doubt i had chosen one of the best. 

as the day approached, my emotions were a curious mix of optimism and skepticism. 

the day of the shoot... well, it rolled out just like i expected.  hair, makeup, posing instructions, lingerie that did nothing to conceal my insecurities... but, as promised, meagan left no oxygen in the room to feed my fear.  her supreme command of every finger, angle, and shadow required my full attention and it was only once i got home, afterwards, that my nerves found their voice in my psyche. 

i'd read blogs from dozens of women touting the confidence boost and empowerment they felt when walking out of their boudoir shoots.  i, on the other hand, feared that i hadn't been able to relax enough or that i wasn't connecting enough in the ways i was supposed to.  i feared that i wouldn't recognize myself in the finished images.  and to make matters worse, my anxiety post-shoot served to amplify my anxiety.  maybe i don't feel the way most women do because i didn't do it right! 

thankfully it was only a week between my shoot and my reveal appointment.  i don't think i could have held my breath much longer than that.  i spent most of the week reviewing all the technical details i'd found in my initial research, reassuring myself that meagan did it right, even if i didn't. 

at the reveal appointment, meagan greeted me with a big hug, gushing about how much she loved my images.  she says that to all the girls, my inner voice chided. 

and then she started the slide show.  'seven minutes, two songs, five seconds on each picture' - she prepped me. 

i didn't hear the first song at all.  i think my brain was receiving maximum input from my eyes instead and struggling to make sense of it all.  that can't be me.  but wait, it is!  

as my shock took a step back, relief sidled up next to it and tried to make space at the table for pride, who had the assignment of rating images with 'one for no', 'three for maybe' or 'five for must have.'  going through the images one by one, i heard myself saying 'five' over and over, and then my voice cracked.  tears filled my eyes.  as it turns out, pride wasn't used to having much of a voice about my appearance... not in a long time.  the realization was startling and cathartic and overwhelming. 

i left my appointment with all the images.  all 57 images, to be exact.  after fearing there wouldn't be enough to make a small album, i floated out on a cloud of disbelief.  it's been three days and i think i've probably looked through them 57 times.  i've shown only very few, to very few.. and yet, the simple knowledge that they exist has fired up that selfie camera in my mind. 

i've come to realize - through this experience - that my selfie snapshots have been triggered by love, most often for or from someone else.  but, for the first time in 30 years perhaps, i am both the giver and receiver of that love.  i am beautiful in my own eyes and that's enough. 

d:  this experience for every woman
b:  57 freaking gorgeous images (57!!!) 
g:  an unexpected awakening

source

-photo by Tommy Vohs

consider the source.  

i've heard that and said it my whole life...the context evolving over time.  but it has come to reside in my consciousness now in a way it never has before.  

consider the source. 

my earliest associations with the phrase were moments of disdain...eventually an endpoint from a statement of exasperation morphed into resignation.   

consider the source. 

when todd brought forensic debate into my life, this became a strategic tenet and opportunity for advantage.  a charge and a tactic.  both a caution and a buttress.  

consider the source.

as i've aged, the mantra has served as a reminder of compassion...empathy.  my mom has long offered the wisdom, 'do the best you can, until you can do better.'  and i extend that sentiment outwards. 

consider the source. 

but now, i turn the scrutiny on myself.  my first-person perspective juxtaposes omniscience with blinders and only one truth is certain.  it's dark in here. 

consider the source.

just as i wouldn't ask a blind man for directions, i wonder if i'm to be trusted with the decisions of my own life.   my disdain looms in the shadows, casting another layer of darkness into the dark.  

consider the source.

last night i was met in this place and a hand extended.  an ear offered.  and the words i heard in reply to my blind stumblings were familiar and gentle.  wisdom passed down and back up again. 

d:  a nightlight

b:  a consideration granted

g:  a listener in the dark

extinction

ivan pavlov is probably rolling over in his grave as he observes the conditioned responses of our modern culture from the afterlife.  (assuming there is such a thing.)  i remember the fun in cleverly assigning custom ring tones to my first iphone.  The Sopranos theme song for all work related contacts.  Batman for luke, because at the time that was his everyday uniform.  gnarls barkley's crazy for that certain friend who fit the bill.  and so on.

i didn't realize the conditioned responses i was ingraining until that gnarls barkley song came on the radio years later and i felt my chest seize with anxiety.  it's been over ten years now and i still feel that twinge when i hear it.  

my phone rings a lot less these days and now i find a chirp or a beep or a bell can change my entire disposition in a split second, as the sounds of communication signal connection and connection evokes emotion and emotion...well, emotion is where it starts and ends for me.  so, hindsight being 20/20 and all, i question the wisdom of linking common sounds with emotion laden relationships because there's no 'silent' setting for the world around me.  

it's funny how a topic will often cross my path many times before it engages me enough to chase, but when someone mentioned neuroplasticity casually in conversation over the weekend and i laid awake trapped in a pavlovian loop to the sounds outside my window, i woke up on a hunt for a related article i skimmed last week.  determined to figure out how to break the link between bell and drool, whistle and wince.  

it was medical student jerzy konorski, a student of pavlov, who first coined the term neural plasticity in 1966 as an early theory about the underlying neural mechanisms driving classical conditioning. the concept that our brains are physically changed by the way in which we use them was a breakthrough theory at the time, but today it's an essential tenet of modern neurobiology.  

we've all heard it.  "what fires together, wires together"   whether behavioral, environmental, or mental, we have the power to change our brains.  norman vincent peale was ahead of his time and his Power of Positive Thinking was largely ridiculed by the medical community; but "brain training" is everywhere you look now.  a quick search on amazon for books with that keyword phrase produced 2,319 titles.  most of them published in the past decade.  

(point of proof:  the google ngram for the phrase as it's appeared in books over the past 50 years.)

note:  this wasn't news to me.  i've been a student of this brain changing, world changing, manifesting reality school of thought for ages...i first learned of it in '05-'06, by a film that came out in 2004, what the bleep do we know, probably right before that graph turns steeply north.  i suspect the uptick was around the time of The Secret, film debut in '06 and book first published in '07.  

but i digress.  what i didn't know.. and what i learned in my reading, is that the rewiring that occurs in our brains, enabled by neuroplasticity, happens primarily while in deep, dreamful, REM sleep.  

dun dun dunnnn.

well, no wonder.  sleep has been elusive over the past several weeks.  the nights are haunted by the periodic call of the tracks nearby and the very sound i strain to hear is the sound i most need to silence...the rumble from within evoked by the rumble from without...and the two holding me just above the escape i need.

d:  restorative rest

b:  visible and vulnerable

g:  extinction via escape

gravity

Honey, it's been a long time coming

And I can't stop now

Such a long time running

And I can't stop now

Do you hear my heart beating? 

Can you hear that sound?

Cause I can't help thinking

And I don't look down

three and a half years is a long time.  that's how long it's been since my marriage ended and, by far, some of the lowest years of my life.  i went through all the stages of grief, backwards, forwards and over again before i reached a point of acceptance.  

and then, once there, it took me a bit (ok, a lot) longer to realize that i had been grieving more than the divorce, i was also grieving my dream of 'happily ever after' and 'the one,' for it became more and more clear that i didn't believe it could happen again.  'what if we only get one shot at it?' i bemoaned.  and did i deserve another great love anyway? 

a long time coming, indeed.  

And then I looked up at the sun

And I could see

Oh the way that gravity turns for you and me

And then I looked up at the sky and saw the sun

And the way that gravity pulls on everyone, on everyone

a little over a month ago, on the verge of throwing in the proverbial towel for the umpteenth time, i had a moment of neptunian romanticism and decided to update my somewhat apathetic online dating profile with a clear, albeit wordy, description of what i want.  who i am.  who i'm drawn to.  and though it was raw and honest, and left me exposed (perhaps as a woman who had set the bar too high), i felt as if i had no choice but to publish it.  even though i'd already literally deleted every local woman - save two - from the search results, i couldn't not say it.

the way that gravity pulls, indeed. 

Baby, it's been a long time waiting

Such a long, long time

And I can't stop smiling

No, I can't stop now

And do you hear my heart beating? 

Ah, can you hear that sound? 

Cause I can't help crying

And I won't look down

what do you know, forty-eight hours later, my package arrived.  (sort of like amazon prime.  guaranteed two-day delivery for free, which i absolutely expect from every online retailer now and am constantly disappointed and boggled by their inability to deliver on.)  it does beg the question, how many times do i have to see the power of manifestation in my life before it stops surprising me.  it took me a minute to realize i wasn't imagining her.. that she wasn't purely a creation of fantasy assigned to a person on the other side of a cyber chasm of space and time.  (and by 'minute' i mean a couple of weeks and looking into her smiling eyes, face-to-face.) 

can't stop smiling, indeed. 

And then I looked up at the sun and I could see

Oh the way that gravity turns on you and me

And then I looked up at the sun and saw the sky

And the way that gravity pulls on you and I, on you and I

it's been five weeks and though that's but a speck in time, it has changed me forever, already.  opening up my world with hope and love and overflowing gratitude. 

gravity turns, indeed.  

Can you hear my heart beating? 

Can you hear that sound? 

Cause I can't help crying

And I won't look down

(lyrics to 'Gravity' by Embrace) 

the tears are of joy and my eyes are held high.  and if you could hear that sound, it might resemble a train whistle.  

d:  hear the sound

b:  i set the bar high

g:  she blew it away

kite

a few years ago i became utterly obsessed with astrology.  for a couple years i studied it intensely, working with a mentor and poring over the natal charts of everyone i knew.  (and some i didn't.)  i had always known that i typified my piscean sun sign; ever awash in emotion and its continual motion.  but one of the things i learned about my chart, and immediately recognized in my life, is the dominant configuration of nearly all the celestial bodies in my chart (8 of 11) in what's called a grand trine.  well, several grand trines overlapping in fact.  

what does that mean?  literally it means that there are at least 3 planets in a equilateral, triangular configuration, 120 degrees between each.  but more importantly, it's an insulating configuration.  allows for easy energy flow between the planets involved and among the houses of the chart involved.  which, admittedly, probably still doesn't mean much to most people.  but when i say insulating  i do mean exactly what i say.  grand trines tend to protect people from the struggle that their psychological urges, in their respective signs and houses, would otherwise present.  grand trine people tend to coast a little bit.  some are described as lucky or seen as inexplicably oblivious or resilient to the hardships they encounter.

when this dynamic was explained to me for the first time, i didn't make much of it.  set it aside and let it marinate.  and then, as astrology is wont to do, it started to make sense.  i began to see the cushioning effect in my life.  the absence of concern or worry, even when perhaps i should; my inability to hold on to details, particularly of painful experiences; and a pervasive sense that everything will work out, even when it's clearly falling apart.  

the grand trine often suggests a lackadaisical or laissez-faire approach; and despite all of my intensity, i admit, i paradoxically have the market cornered on laissez-faire.  lackadaisical, not so much.  lackadaisical is defined as 'lacking enthusiasm or determination' and 'carelessly lazy.'  when i relayed my disagreement to my astrology mentor, it presented him with a teachable moment.  one of my grand trines, it turns out, is actually a 'kite.' meaning there's an extra planet involved, creating a kite-like shape (go figure).. and he told me the significance is that it 'provides a way out of the trine.'  

if you're as lost as i was, perhaps this will help.  imagine, if you will, a napkin blowing off a picnic table...caught in the breeze and wafting easily and aimlessly (read: lackadaisical) wherever the wind may blow.  now, imagine on the same windy day, at the same picnic, that you brought along a kite.  and as you lift it aloft to the breeze it takes flight, dipping and soaring at your command.  why?  

sure, you may find the immediate flaw in my illustration as a napkin isn't designed to fly and a kite is; or a napkin is untethered for control and a kite is attached to a string.  but a simple lesson in aerodynamics will direct you to the importance of resistance.  the tail provides drag and the wind  provides lift and together they create flight.  

over the past couple years, my heart has been broken repeatedly and regularly by the news of systemic racism taking another life in our country, too often at the hands of those we employ and entrust with our safety.  but over and over, i expect the headline to be the last of its kind.  over and over, i expect our predominantly white government to step up and recognize the injustice, with remorse, restitution, and remedy.  i cannot relate in any way to the victims or the perpetrators and it's unimaginable to me how such prejudice and hate exist at all.  

for all the benefit of my protective grand trines, i hold them equally at fault for my naivete and hopeful optimism on this matter.  

but not any more.  last friday todd and i joined nearly ten thousand protesters in the streets of downtown atlanta to march for racial justice.  headstrong into the winds of ignorance, denial, and fear, together we attempted to create some drag.

interviewed on the news, yep.  probably because i was white.  

on a personal level, it was moving: sobering and empowering all at once.  i felt immensely powerful and, simultaneously, a very small part in what necessarily must be an enormous movement.  it was both heartbreaking and heart-lifting. i felt such a bond and commonality with those around me and yet more disconnected and dismayed at those who stood idly by.  

the paradox of these emotions, swirling and clashing all at once, left me drained.  i retreated over the weekend into my grand trines, insulated and protected.  and then it hit me.  like a kite to the forehead.  

wind resistance..perpendicular force..lift 

the resistance of a tail in tow..drag

together: flight.  

d: i never lose my tail

b: flight via fight

g: kite to the forehead

framed

elasticity of time. 

say that aloud.  it feels good. just the right balance of s and t.  

it's been stuck in my head for a few days now, like the refrain of a song lacking in melody.  so after muttering it under my breath for 72 hours, i googled it.  i had a feeling it didn't mean what i had assigned it... (but i only half cared, hence the 72 hour delay.)

i was right.  it's frequently associated with einstein's theory of relativity and the principle of time dilation.  i had it pegged more for the strange phenomenon of time in which it can feel like both a moment and an epic all in one breath; or as if it happened yesterday, yet has existed forever. 

i was wrong too though.  upon dipping my toe into einstein's work in quantum physics, i immediately cared.  

it all came rushing back, a familiarity born of a past obsession with the film What the Bleep.  a film that came into my life at just the right time and resonated.  it's sort of a quantum-physics-lite course that i'm sure made physicists all the world round cringe.  (but this, i really don't care about.)  it remains one of my favorite films and one of the few i watch over and over. 

but obviously it's been a while.  because i read journal article after article as if it were brand new. 

to put it simply, the theory of relativity states that as an item's speed increases, time slows down.  (i know, i know, i'm oversimplifying.)  this has formed the basis of many a time travel film and sounds ludicrous at face value.  that's what they all said when he proposed it too, in 1905, with no empirical evidence.  but fast forward 35 years and what do you know, he was right. loads of studies have proven it.  

einstein's theory was based on a notion of time as something measured in a frame of reference.  i envision that i'm watching time pass outside a window, literally, and if the window is then accelerated in motion, time slows down.  and while i'm certainly not in motion, particularly not anywhere near the speed of light (which is when it starts to actually matter), i am employing the theory of relativity to explain my own paradoxical time phenomenon. 

though my body isn't moving, my mind has been on overdrive...racing at an immeasurable speed (literally) powered by life, love, and a cocktail of serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin.  and yet, time has slowed down, expanded, and wrapped itself around a few short weeks, morphing them into something much, much richer.  

frame of reference. 

in motion. 

d:  acceleration

b:  expansion

g:  power conversion