Flying, Falling and Finding Myself

This painting is called "When Pigs Fly" by Michael Sowa. It's one of my favorite paintings because it reminds me of jumping off the pier in Deltaville as a kid.  There hasn't been much pier jumping in my adult years.  There's been some floating around on the creek, but adults just don't run and leap off a perfectly good dock.  

Lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking, maybe what you might call soul searching.  It might even been considered something of a mid life crisis or some kind of AARP-membership-on-the-horizon-turning-50 meltdown.  Whatever you want to label it, I've been reflecting on life, choices I've made, choices I want to make, where I want to be and most importantly who I want to be.  Because somewhere along the line I completely misplaced the person that I was and that I was on the way to becoming. 

Fast forward to this Labor Day weekend.  I arrived in Deltaville in the evening on Thursday. 

I immediately walked to the pier.  The water was high, nearly touching the boards, and in that moment I wanted to run and leap off the end like I had all those years ago as a kid. But like I said, adults just don't run and leap off a perfectly good dock.

I stood there thinking about it- my heart wanting to and my mind telling me I'm too old and that it would be ridiculous. 

But something shifted in me.  I kicked off my shoes, removed my socks, emptied my pockets of my car keys and cell phone and ran and leaped off the end.  I savored the moment that I was flying even if only for a handful of seconds before plunging into the cool slightly salty water.  Going under, touching bottom and breaking the surface again I came up laughing (It sounds more graceful than it looked I'm certain).  

I jumped 3 more times half laughing half screaming while I flew over the water for about 3 seconds before gravity pulled me in and under.  

In those brief minutes of throwing myself off of the pier, I began remembering who I was supposed to be.  It was as if the creek water did the opposite of rebirth.  I wasn't emerging as something new, but rather something I always was and forgot about along the way.

I've remembered that I'm supposed to be the girl who laughs like a loon before running and leaping off a dock into a salty creek.

 

Long Time, No Blog

Today, I found myself wandering back to this little corner of the internet—my Deltaville blog—and realized something: it’s been four years since I last posted.

A lot has happened in those four years. Life shifted, priorities changed, and consistency—especially when it came to blogging—went out the window. I'll spare you the personal details (for now at least). Basically, I wasn’t making it to Deltaville as often as I used to. I didn’t mind skipping long holiday weekends on the water. I drifted from old blog friends and the routines that once brought me joy.

Truthfully, I was just… lost.

Anyway, I found my way back over here to the blog and started reading things I wrote a long time ago and somehow, like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes.  For the first time in a very long time, I wanted to write, I wanted to get back to photo excursions and I wanted my sanctuary back.

So, I’ve dusted off my gear—charged the camera batteries, unpacked the new tripod, and cracked open my old journals. The plan? To slowly ease back into photography and writing. Maybe I won’t say anything profound, but if I can entertain—or just feel a spark again—it’ll be worth it.

And for those of you out there feeling a little (or a lot) lost, don't lose faith.  Eventually you'll find your way back where you need to go.