“to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”
– e.e. cummings
everyday, when i don’t have a journal in hand, i pull out my phone and take notes. i have the memory of an elephant, and the love i feel for my kids drenches those memories with feelings, with color, with so many emotions. but the details need to be recorded, in case they fall through the cracks between the days, the hours, the minutes. every year i feel the gaps getting bigger though the story gets longer and more full. the pictures of them are born of that same place, of intimacy, of longing, of the desire to hold it all in my arms. together, they make sense. so i love to find pictures that i forgot about, to rekindle the love for each of them as they were at that moment. and i love to find these little gifts to myself, these tiny notes, anecdotes, impressions, stowed away on my phone, ready to break me open in a second. making room for more today i found this:
‘tonight we have watched the kids dance to movie scores, fully feeling it, feeling themselves to the core. it is a gift to get to grow these roots, and to feel the stretch of branches, reaching to the wind, moved by everything. because we all choke up. we all get to that age where we wondered who wrote the play book. where we heard more than just the strong signal that comes from deep inside. other voices swallow it whole. the beautiful thing is that the voice, the learning to feel, never goes away. it only gets quiet when the world gets loud. somedays i feel my own voice rise up so strong and clear, and i wonder how there could ever have been a question. i believe we are all creators, but some people are better at putting their ears to the ground, their eyes to the sky, their hearts behind the wheel. i sat watching you crazy kids dance like you had a story to tell already, and i saw two people who i believe might keep their senses pure. i want to believe it. i will. i do.’
and when i read this, it was as if i had subconsciously described the very thing i want to photograph in them. that dancing, to the beat of their own pulses, is what pulls me like the tide to them. and it allows me to open my heart to that part of everyone else. when they grow older, and follow their own voices, and need to pull away, i will still carry that gift from them. i have fallen in love with that wildness and purity of life, as they throw it out like light. everything about it is sacred.