Artist retreat - Maine
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to…
Today, on my birthday, I crossed the threshold… I have now lived longer than my mom. She was always my point of reference… My guide in life and living, my go to for questions or understanding, my lesson teacher. So, my mother point of reference is officially gone and I’ll now be blazing the ultimate trail and journey without her. On my birthday, while driving through Florida back to Tybee Island, Georgia after visiting a friend, I listened to Brandi Carlile’s song The Story. It’s always been a favorite but this time the lyrics struck a different chord.
We are all woven of the many stories of our lives... and most people don’t know the stories that often lie quietly within us. These stories, when told and shared, take on a richer deeper meaning for the teller and the receiver. I found myself wondering about my mother’s untold stories. She was very private and kept most of them close to her heart. And I now wish that I knew more of them.
Sunrise... in Maine.
At the beginning of my artist retreat in Maine this past November, I begin living and creating what would become one of my life stories. While traveling, I’ve been meditating for over a year and using an online program / app to track my daily progress. This past November I began to communicate with “B” from Florida, who also used the app. B was a fellow photographer. We immediately began daily communication off the site. We started the day with each other by sending photos of our sunrises and would also send the sunsets in our very different worlds. I found myself looking forward to these photographs, voice messages and written messages sprinkled throughout each day that became bright spots in the short days & long dark nights of Maine winter. One day at the beginning of December, I asked him to tell me a story… Anything he felt like telling me about himself or his life. That simple request became a wonderful sharing of written stories of who we are and how we got to be where we are… These were stories he and I had not shared with many or any people before. They were part of the fabric and history that was each of us. They were the kind of things that you don’t normally tell people because they are often so every day and ordinary.. but they reflect so much of who we are. They are the memories and feelings and emotions that speak so loudly about who we are more than if we would try to tell someone who we are. There was something special and magical in the actual sharing of these private pieces of ourselves, and it became a discovery of each other and a sort of self discovery as well. We would randomly ask each other for a story. It was wonderful to reflect on bits of my life and what to share, when asked. And it was equally special to read what story he shared. It was safe intimacy from afar... like sharing with someone sitting next to you on a plane or in a coffee house. It was simple and flirtatious and uncomplicated and beautiful.
Morning walk to the sea at the Maine art retreat.
We would write messages in the sand and send them to each other.
Recently, communication just began to fade away and then stopped between us. Maybe the interaction had served its purpose and had its time. All I know is it was wonderful & I enjoyed it immensely! I’m so very thankful for him and for the adventure of our story telling. I think we both learned how to communicate this past winter... both in stories and personally. I learned how to open my heart and my world and to stay present to something instead of running or walking away from it. Vulnerability can be scary, but it is also so full of riches and the best way to live. Because of this experience with B, it caused me to grow and to reflect on so much in life and to learn to communicate better than I did before... And to accept someone just as they are and to be thankful for them. I’m pretty sure I won’t think of Maine without thinking of him.
The funny thing is, I recently began communicating with someone else through a meditation program / app. He is ironically also from Florida and he wanted us to meet in person to tell each other our stories... I love the synchronicity and beauty of that. And once again I said yes to life and what it offered.
So this week, he and I ended up meeting in Savannah, Georgia for coffee and we laughed and talked and rode bikes and walked in nature at Skidaway Island State Park and the activities flowed from one thing to another into the afternoon to evening to nightfall and we told each other our stories for almost 11 hours! Amazing things happen when we get out of our comfort zones, away from expectations and out of our own way and let life just happen and evolve into a new story.
Skidaway Island State Park - Georgia
To purchase fine art photography prints from my travel adventures stop by my Society6 shop or Etsy Shop. For home Decor and furniture pieces stop by my Deny Designs shop!
