Early blooming rudbeckia... why couldn't I have been like you?
A patch of rudbeckia blooms early this year--probably because it overwintered quite well and didn't have to play catch up.
How I wish I didn't always feel like I was always playing catch up.
I listen to podcasts of accomplished creative twenty-somethings. I often find myself thinking, "Why couldn't I have been that together at that age? Why couldn't I see what I really wanted... no, needed to be?"
Old enough to be a mother to many of them, I feel like I'm only beginning to emerge...
A reluctant late-bloomer, I feel so behind.
Self-talk riddled with "should have's" clogs my thoughts. Hubby says I'm "should-ing" all over myself. He's right. I know it. Yet I can only make the "should-ing" go away for short periods of time before it's back jamming up my creative senses to the point where I can't hear anything but their clamor.
It is then that I retreat to photography...
Eight years ago, it was photography that pulled me from the dark abyss I had entered when I abandoned all creative and artistic pursuits and swore I wouldn't try again. After 10 years of trying to "make it", I had been rejected by so many gatekeepers and curators of the world of creative professionals that I couldn't do it anymore. I had determined I was not talented enough or educated enough to rub shoulders with those that called themselves "professional artists". I figured I had missed the boat by not getting my act together in my early twenties. I concluded it was my own stupid fault and, despite the ache inside, I had to accept this self-imposed sentence. I was bruised and my dreams had been crushed so many times, I decided to quash them altogether.
But eight years ago, walking along a beach on the north shore of Oahu with a little Sony Cybershot digital camera in my hand, I let my photographic passion come out to play. The place (one I consider to be a personal safe haven), the moment and nature combined forces and reached out to the part of me locked deep inside--so deep I thought it wasn't there anymore. There was enough of a spark to start a small flame, and as I allowed myself to fan the flame it grew progressively brighter as the months passed.
In the years since then, I've often thought that photography was just the entry point to get me back on the creative track.
But maybe I'm wrong... maybe photography is my destination and not a stop along the journey.
Maybe that is why when the "should-ing" in my head becomes overwhelming, I retreat to photography and not drawing or painting.
When I look at it that way, then I don't feel so far behind. I don't feel like such a late bloomer. I don't feel out of step or weighed down with thoughts of, "You should have done something long before now..."
Why? I don't know. It just is. And photography takes me there.
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