Week Forty-Five

Some days you just need to soar.

Week Forty-Four

Once upon a time, there were moments of awakeness, and then a lifetime of slumber.

At first, the thought is appealing; to sleep forever, and then awake, restful and refreshed. But for Acedianna, the awake never came.

     Acedianna was a young girl who had much to live for, and much to gain. She knew this, but sadly took it for granted. Her parents worked hard and strove for success so that she, their daughter could have a happy and wonderful life. But this too, she took for granted. She did not work hard for herself, she did not care about her future, all she cared about was now. And now, she wanted to be happy. But it was the wrong kind of happy. It was a happy based solely off of self pleasure, and comfort, and over time Acedianna became lazy.

The days melted into one another for Acedianna, but she did not notice. She was too busy not being busy; sleeping, being pampered, and eating fine delicacies were what her days consisted of. For awhile, it was utterly wonderful, but her spirit soon became slothful. Over time, she started to feel bored with her life. But she was so used to having things done for her that she did not know how to do them for herself. Everything became dull, lifeless, slow. She started to have a burning desire for adventure, but she did not how to acquire it. She searched and searched, trying to find it, buy it, but she did not realize that adventure never finds us. We have to go out into the world and find it for ourselves.

 

But that was too hard. Acedianna wanted something easier.

 

She became tired, tired of her life, tired of everything; so her favorite pastime became resting, and soon her days were slept away. She was sad, for she did not know how to be happy without being indolent. 

She had a favorite spot outside under a tree, where she would rest her conflicted mind. She would often wake up to the songs of the birds, and it would make her heart heavy, for they had a wonderful, simple life, she thought. Completely wild and free, full of adventure. So tired was she, straining to lift her head; to catch a glimpse of the creatures, for the sounds drew her in. Still, it puzzled her, for how could they be happy without having anything, and especially without having anything done for them? It must be because they are stupid, she convinced herself. Yes, that was it. She was so much better than the birds. She didn't have to do anything, after all! They were just silly, petty little animals, and if they knew any better they would demand the other birds to get things for them. She had glimpsed for a second, the simple and beautiful life she could have, but her stubborn heart would not have it. She was too bent in her ways and determined on having things done for her. What she did not realize was that by doing this, her life was being lived by others.

One day, as she lay down in her favorite spot, she thought about her life and despite how stupid the birds really were, they were the closest things to friends she had, for they didn't do anything for her. They never helped her, served her, or worked for her. They just simply were. 

 

 

Acedianna lay her head down to sleep like she always had.

And to awake in this life, nevermore.

Week Forty-Three

"You are here.

Be present.

Live."


"

This post is a wee bit late, so my apologies. :] It's not anything special, really. I need to set aside more time for my photos, I'm nearing the end of my 52 weeks journey! How did it go by so fast? Only nine more weeks, which means only nine more photographs! Oyy. I'm going to miss it. But I don't think I'll do another one for a little while. But, you never know...we shall see.

My mom is super cool and knows that I love rocks, so she bought me this beauty as an early Christmas present. It's so unique; the colors, the details and the shape. I'm simply in love, to be honest. She's a keeper...but always has been and always will be. [;

Week Forty-Two

 And when Dorothy looked back, the yellow brick road had turned to dust.

Week Forty-One

Life is hard.

But so very beautiful.

There is pain in this world, but let it not allow us to forget the beauty that encircles our everyday lives.

When one often thinks about beauty, grandeur places and pricey material items come into mind, among other things. But this does not mean that other things cannot have beauty as well.

This week, take some time and look around you. Notice the gentle swaying of a feather in the wind, the vibrancy of a budding blade of grass, the way that light seeps through window panes. Count the legs on the working ants, take a deep breath, plant something in the yard, or make a point to watch the sun rise or set. Look for beauty in the ugly. With new eyes, wander around the city that you live in, or take some time to lie down with a blanket in your backyard and wait. You start to become aware of things you never noticed before, or things you were too busy to acknowledge.

Some of my favorite simple things I find beauty in are:

The way a leaf becomes transparent when the sun casts its light directly on it,

Kitty-cat eyes. If looked upon deeply, they are filled with wonder and colors so crisp,

Right before the sun sets, the golden light. When the tiny flies are wandering about, it almost looks like glitter in the warmth of the sun,

Reflections. Glass is one of my favorite things to photograph, I love the way light and colors become pastels, and in a way, texterized. 

Go search.

Find the beauty around you.

And start a list.

Because, well, lists are fun to make anyways. :]

Happy listing!

Week Forty

Hate is a strong word.

A long time ago, there breathed a girl by the name of Ira. She was the same as you and me, and took joy in the very things every young girl does. She would often play with her dolls, tea sets and dress up her teddy bear in pretty ribbons. Ira had a few friends, but in her mind, she considered them more as acquaintances.  She was often left out in groups, and never had anyone come over to play with because she was afraid that if she asked, no one would come. You see, even though Ira was shy, she was quick to label others, and predict their actions, whether they were accurate or not. If she would only try, try to give other girls the benefit of the doubt, she may surprise herself and make a friend. But she did not. Although in the beginning some of the girls were indeed cruel and excluding, not everyone was so. But Ira became hardened and wary of others, repeatedly telling herself that they were talking behind her back, and purposefully scheming to leave her out. And this was her folly. As the years passed, and Ira grew older, so her heart grew bitter towards others.  She too often let herself falsely accuse everyone around her of exclusion, but what she did not realize was that she in turn, was cutting herself off from everyone else.

As a way of coping with her loneliness, she kept a journal of her thoughts and feelings, and wrote in it throughout the years. In the beginning, it was a good thing, and something that helped Ira figure out what to do. But slowly, her focus became something else, and her words became hateful, and drifted from figuring out the problem to writing hurtful words about others. In the back of her mind, Ira knew this was wrong…but it felt good.

    

Day by day, her mind, body and soul were consumed with hateful thoughts, and the anger swelling up inside of her heart was so immense, it started to overtake her whole being. Wrath was emitting from her body, becoming an obsession so great, she was desperately trying to find an escape. She hated the other girls. She hated everyone she knew, and completely despised anyone who came her way.

One day, after a long day exhausting day, Ira was so angry and fed up with the world; she ran outside and brought her journal with her. She hated everything, absolutely hated it. "Why was everyone so cruel?" She thought to herself. They were awful. They were horrid. And she did not care that she hated them. Anger poured out onto the pages of her journal. As the tears fell hot and fast from her anger filled eyes, she thought about her whole life and how the world was so completely wicked. Them. It was always them; they were the mean ones, not she.

 Ira hadn’t even been aware that she had begun to write about her what was going on inside of her. With a sudden jolt, she felt pain in her fingers, and her hands stung fiercely. She suddenly looked down, and what was visible were two things.

Blood. And one word, repeated.

Hate.

Ira soon put it together. The thoughts, the pain, the words, all slammed into her like a ton of bricks. She had been so consumed with rage and anger, she hadn’t even realized that she had been writing so intensely that her fingers had begun to bleed. She finally saw her obsession for what it really was, an addiction to hatred.

Wrath had overtaken her life, even to the point of self-infliction.

Hate is a strong word. 

These photos are a bit darker than usual, so I hope I didn't scare off too many people. ;]

If you're wondering - *No photographers were injured in the making of these images.* [;

The blood was completely fake, and rather sticky, too.

Nothin' like good old corn syrup, water and red food coloring! ;)

Week Thirty-Nine

Break through, and break free.

Whatever it is that you are struggling with, 

Right now,

In this moment,

Let.

It.

Go.

There is always  a ready hand awaiting to hold yours gently. Jesus never lets us go.  We may not feel it at times, or sometimes we decide not to feel it, but his hands have been and always will be holding us. He catches us when we stumble, when we fall.

Reach out.
Grasp the life that was given to you.