I Call Them "Moments of Grace"

Or if I don't call them moments of grace, I call them "blessings from the Universe" or "gifts from the Universe."

Whatever the term used, what I'm talking about are those rare moments of insight that come to me, seemingly, from out of nowhere...from out of the blue, as they say.

They usually come only after I've spent a very long and tortured time trying to figure something out, make something better, get out of a funk or low-grade, chronic depression. They come after I've been going round and round in circles, beating my head against the wall, wracking my brain...all the cliche phrases for trying and failing to find a solution or, to put it a better way, gain insight into a problem.

I'm not talking about the small problems, such as not remembering how to do a tax computation...or hating the home office decor...or feeling nervous every time there's a twinge in my left breast...or discovering that I now have "floaters" in my right eye...or having a broken camera...or having to cancel too many Writing Salon classes this session and wondering what THAT is all about...or having to deal with Olivia accidentally peeing on my bed while she was sleeping (and no, I can't forbid her to ever get on my bed again; that just wouldn't be possible)...or having too many medical bills that my health insurance won't pay for...or dreading the next MRI...or well, this little list could easily become huge (wow, I've discovered a surefire way to always have something to post on my blog: a list of small problems!).

Anyway, these rare moments of insight will appear when I am NOT in the throes of struggling to make them appear. Rather, they arrive after I've let go (at least for a while...ie. maybe while I'm sleeping!). Yesterday it was while I was puttering, and the realization came to me that if I could approach EVERYTHING the way I approach walking Olivia and taking photos, my life would change drastically for the better and, I suspect, this gray film of depression that has been plaguing me for weeks, now, would most likely begin to fade away.

The depression has stemmed from the feeling that I needed to change my entire work life, that I didn't want to run the Writing Salon anymore, that it no longer felt like my "right livelihood," that I was just going through the motions, begrudgingly, reluctantly, resentfully, and unhappily.

Every "solution" I imagined involved a total life overhaul. Drastic measures. Wild fantasies that I would have no idea how to even begin to implement. You know, like sell everything and move to a fixer upper ranch in the middle of Montana, and raise dogs and llamas. Or write a best-selling book on how to fight breast cancer in ten easy steps, via alternative treatment methods, and simultaneously take on the Evil Healthcare Industry... and win the fight. Or magically become such an incredible photographer that I could turn my photos into inexpensive greeting cards and sell millions of them and make enough money to retire.

Oh I have so many of these fantasies . . .

But here's the truth: Walking Olivia isn't as fun and new a thing to do as it was two or even one year ago. Exploring Bernal Heights on foot isn't as fresh and new as it used to be. After a while, everything new becomes old. Everything that was exciting has the potential to become boring. So whaddya do? Well, you can keep pursuing NEWNESS by continually starting over with new endeavors. You can move to new houses or citites or countries. You can buy new clothes, new furniture, new hairstyles. You can sell your business and start a new one (over and over and over, if you're a really super entrepreneur). You can figure out ways to always be the instigator rather than the maintainer, the one who comes up with ideas,  breaks new ground... and then lets someone else keep everything going after you've gotten it started. These are viable options but not always practical for the "ordinary" person. Like me.

So here's the deal: Over the last few days, I've discovered that even though I now drag my feet about taking Olivia out for walks every day, once I get out there and start looking around with "my third eye" as I like to call my photograher's perspective, I realize over and over and over that nothing is ever truly boring, because everything is always changing...although it may be that the changes become subtler and subtler. Sure, I now know Bernal Heights like the back of my hand. A house I've looked at a hundred times isn't as exciting to me as when I was seeing it for the first time.

BUT: The light is always changing, depending on the time of day. Ditto for the weather. The trees change. Leaves come and go. Colors. Textures. Shapes. Plants change. The sky changes. A new fence gets built. A house is torn down. Or repainted. Duh. Of course. A trillion things, little and big and in-between, are different, are changing, are evolving, are transmuting, are shifting, are reconfiguring...

I can see this so clearly when I think about photography. So why can't I  see it when I think about, say, running the Writing Salon? If I could train myself to "re-see" my business from new angles, new perspectives...at different times of the day, in different "weather," maybe I would learn how to re-appreciate it.

Am I making any sense here? I know I'm getting rambly, but this is a first draft. A stream of consciousness. I'll revise it later.

Comments

[Sue in Berkeley]

Dear Jane: I've kept up with reading your blog for, well, years now and find it fascinating. The photos are a huge plus--what an eye you have! As for new approaches, new attitudes: have you thought about an exhibition of your photos? Either in your SF/Berkeley Writing Studios or in a private gallery? You ARE an incredible photographer already. You’d be taking your photography to the next level--as a professional visual artist. You already have the spaces and a mailing list for an art show--but I know this would require planning, energy and resolve; all on your part. An easier approach could be showing at cafes that exhibit local artists: Au Coquelet or Tomate in Berkeley, for example. With a private gallery, you'd have to share control, costs and any profits, but you wouldn't have to arrange and run the whole thing yourself. I've seen artists with a lot less talent than yours exhibit and sell their work. I think viewing large prints of your stunning photos hung on neutral walls would be very different from seeing them posted on the Internet and much more powerful. All best, Sue

[Jill]

I totally agree with Sue. I think I said something along those lines when I very first saw your photos, too.........You're good, Jane, and I don't think you'd have any problem finding someone there to show your work. You should share it in an environment that is more personal and, well,.... you.

[Jill]

I totally agree with Sue. I think I said something along those lines when I very first saw your photos, too.........You're good, Jane, and I don't think you'd have any problem finding someone there to show your work. You should share it in an environment that is more personal and, well,.... you.

[harlan lewps]

That you're a natural photographer is clear to all of us. The question to answer is why that doesn't mean all that much to you...or at least enough to want to take it to the next level, whatever in the world that is.

I know -- I should talk.