curiosity

Yesterday I brought the cats over to the new place.  Both were traumatized by the car ride.  Holly wailed non-stop the entire time.  Sherman sat down and was silent in the strange way that causes more concern than all the wailing in the world.  When I opened the door to the carrier, Holly bounded out - all confidence and curiosity.  She was purring within the hour.  

Sherman, however, did not fare so well.  He pressed himself as far back into the carrier as he could and did not emerge for three hours. 

it's a terrible feeling to watch a helpless creature suffer and to have no way to comfort it.  even though he was just laying there, i could see his heart pounding so quickly and his eyes were the saddest saucers i've ever seen.  there's just no way to explain change.  my heart broke and then broke some more.  

At one point, Sherman felt brave enough to try to step out.

But the feel of the carpet texture must have been too much.  He quickly drew his paw back and stayed inside for a while longer.

You might think I'm cruel for just snapping pictures of the poor thing while he sits there in agony.  The experts (websites), however, say to let the cats come out and explore on their own time, and to just behavie as normally as possible.  Trust me when I tell you that having a camera clicking in his face is very high on the normal scale.

eventually he explored a little.  cautiously.  belly to the ground.  

they were so different in their reactions to change.  i love them both for their own reactions in different ways.  

i think i am probably a little more like sherman.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>fast forward to the next morning

 When I woke up, Holly was bounding around like a pogo stick.  It took me a minute or two before I realized Sherman wasn't with her.  I searched all the hiding spots.  Twice.  No Sherman.

When I discovered the open screen on the front window was also loose on both sides of the bottom, it became clear to [6:45 a.m.] me that Sherman had pushed himself out of the screen and, unable to get back in, had gotten lost.  Or ran away to sniff his way back to Olive Ave.  I panicked.  Absolutely.

I was the crazy new woman in the neighborhood sobbing and calling her cat's name loudly at 6:45 a.m.

Wild thoughts ran through my mind.  I called J and cried into the phone.  I solicited the help of a woman walking her dog.  Neighbor lady Toni came out in her moo-moo and offered search around and keep an eye out.  I envisioned myself breaking down in the middle of teaching new students day 2, thinking of poor terrified Sherman alone in the world.  how could i do this?  why is the world so cruel and confusing?

I went back in to double check and retrace my steps like a goldfish around the bowl.  When I moved the bag of shoes under my bed slightly, the littlest freckled pink nose and the biggest saucer eyes I've ever seen appeared from the side.  

I cannot explain the relief.  I just don't know the words for that heart language. 

I've never lost a kid in a mall or anything, but I can maybe understand a little bit how those parents feel.

This is Sherman at 7:01 a.m., not only bewildered as to where and why of his current existence, but now wondering why his human friend is sitting against the wall, openly weeping.

but let's be honest, sherms.  that's nothing new.

looking at the coffin- terrified

The 5 Stages of Loss and Grief

By JULIE AXELROD

 1. Denial and Isolation                                                               X (& several circles back) 
The first reaction to learning of terminal illness or death of a cherished loved one is to deny the reality of the situation. It is a normal reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions. It is a defense mechanism that buffers the immediate shock. We block out the words and hide from the facts. This is a temporary response that carries us through the first wave of pain.

 2. Anger                                                                                                     XXXXXXXXXXX

As the masking effects of denial and isolation begin to wear, reality and its pain re-emerge. We are not ready. The intense emotion is deflected from our vulnerable core, redirected and expressed instead as anger. The anger may be aimed at inanimate objects, complete strangers, friends or family. Anger may be directed at our dying or deceased loved one. Rationally, we know the person is not to be blamed. Emotionally, however, we may resent the person for causing us pain or for leaving us. We feel guilty for being angry, and this makes us more angry.

3. Bargaining                            X  (The last few weeks.  As soon as it starts to seem real).
The normal reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability is often a need to regain control–

• If only we had sought medical attention sooner…
• If only we got a second opinion from another doctor…
• If only we had tried to be a better person toward them…

Secretly, we may make a deal with God or our higher power each other in an attempt to postpone the inevitable. This is a weaker line of defense to protect us from the painful reality.

4. Depression                                                                                               bracing myself
Two types of depression are associated with mourning. The first one is a reaction to practical implications relating to the loss. Sadness and regret predominate this type of depression. We worry about the costs and burial. We worry that, in our grief, we have spent less time with others that depend on us. This phase may be eased by simple clarification and reassurance. We may need a bit of helpful cooperation and a few kind words. The second type of depression is more subtle and, in a sense, perhaps more private. It is our quiet preparation to separate and to bid our loved one farewell. Sometimes all we really need is a hug.

5. Acceptance                                                                          little glimpses, hard to grasp
Reaching this stage of mourning is a gift not afforded to everyone. Death may be sudden and unexpected or we may never see beyond our anger or denial. It is not necessarily a mark of bravery to resist the inevitable and to deny ourselves the opportunity to make our peace. This phase is marked by withdrawal and calm. This is not a period of happiness and must be distinguished from depression.

Loved ones that are terminally ill or aging appear to go through a final period of withdrawal. This is by no means a suggestion that they are aware of their own impending death or such, only that physical decline may be sufficient to produce a similar response. Their behavior implies that it is natural to reach a stage at which social interaction is limited. The dignity and grace shown by our dying loved ones may well be their last gift to us.

Coping with loss is a ultimately a deeply personal and singular experience — nobody can help you go through it more easily or understand all the emotions that you’re going through. But others can be there for you and help comfort you through this process. The best thing you can do is to allow yourself to feel the grief as it comes over you. Resisting it only will prolong the natural process of healing.


http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-5-stages-of-loss-and-grief/000617

play goes on

we are scripted species
our little lives circling around the same talking points-
maybe altered slightly, depending on the mood.
revolutions sans evolution
(no one really listens to each other very well.)

it does not matter what IS real,
reality is created in the repetition and the dramatization of the repeated drama
memory is a fickle thing
(be careful!  she is not to be trusted!  she can be welcome company, but she tends to overstay her welcome.)

the powerful play goes on! and on! and on!
for weeks.

the center of some drama
the spotlight wavering

and shadows near the curtains
that do not quite exit
remain indiscernible
for lack of illumination.



and once in a generous while- a revelation
(but be careful!  they can cripple!  they can turn the world over!)

life with lenses: year 1

A little over a year ago (July 20), a few weeks after having purchased and fallen in love my first fancy camera, I posed these questions to my future self.  Here's the verdict-

Dear awesome and interesting and stable and overall contented future self:
1.  will i become more adept in focus and flash?
yep.  definitely with focus.  still need to dust off the expensive flash i bought and start experimenting, but yes.

2.  will i go semi-pro in the next year?  will i make some dollars to support this love?  $10?  $100?  $1,000? 
YES, and hope to further it even more this year.  i tried totaling it in my head the other day and came up with somewhere around $7,500.  A lot of that went toward equipment this year, but still.  i wouldn't have anticipated this for myself last year.  let's do that again... and then some.

3.  if i do move in the direction of for profit, will photography lose it's charm? 
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  a RESOUNDING no.

4.  will i look back at the pictures i'm taking now and think they are amateurish or alright?  (i can already see a lot of little things i would adjust or fix... focus, lighting.... i just don't always know how)
yes, in some.  still can appreciate some of those first pictures as some of my favorite.... but i have learned a lot and can see that.

5. regarding the casual way i handle my gear:  will it lead to scratched lenses and broken somethings and expensive replacement fees or is my nonchalance just the mark of someone who feels really comfortable and natural in their photographer skin?
no broken equipment... it really does hold up.  probably too much dirt and sand in the cameras, but ah well.

6.  will getting more involved in photography communities make me more critical of myself?  more critical of others?  tired of the whole thing?  inspired about the whole thing?
all of the above- it the best ways.  365 has brought more joy than i could have anticipated, and the challenges have pushed me in ways i wouldn't have otherwise even known to pursue.  i hope to increase my activity this year... and to do some more deliberate self-teaching.

7.  where will my style go?  will i prefer photographing people or places or textures or nature or details or big  things? 
people and events remain my favorite things.  i prefer something that can tell a story... so that can really be anything.  maybe not so in love with big nature scapes... they're just whatever to me.

8.  once i learn more, will i get hungry for new lenses and new cameras and new everything?
increasing my equipment was a little intimidating at first.  i felt like i had to lug around all my options just to leave the house.  i've freed myself from that pressure.  it's mostly just my 50mm on my d800, though i might return to my d5100 during the school year.  i WOULD like some more lenses for my d800... the full lens is just SO good.

9.  will i  get the coveted "Press Pass" into an event?
SJ Press Pass to the basketball game... Architecture for Dogs event...

10.  will i keep up with my 365? even on busy days?  even on sad days?  even on inconvenient days?  even on uninspired days?
YES.  even on busy days, ESPECIALLY on sad days.  yes on inconvenient days, even if the shots weren't stellar.  haven't really encountered too many uninspired days.

there it is.  the state of the union.

how hard we tried

something happened today 

so surreal 

some sort of attempt at understanding 

and something understood

i am so sad.

another dream:

i found myself signed up to do another year with NET ministries. for some reason, i was already in minnesota, and it was the first week of training where we do activities and they put us on teams. on the outside, i was going through the motions, but inside i was so disoriented. what was i doing there? i didn't belong there anymore. i'm an atheist, for christ's sake. how did i find myself here signed up for another year of work for a cause i didn't believe in? there was just this overwhelming feeling like this wasn't a place where i belonged or wanted to be anymore. apparently i had signed up for another year, but i just couldn't feel good about going through with it. i'd outgrown it. everyone around was excited and happy about all the activities, and all i could think was "how do i get back to california? how am i supposed to get back to my life?" i was trying to figure out a way to tell the supervisors that i just didn't belong there anymore. somehow, i had my car with me at the training. rather than tell anyone, i got in my car and drove away. no more thoughts of "what are they going to do without me on the team?" or "but i signed up for a year..." i just knew i needed to get back to california. i was driving on a dirt road surrounded by greenery. i stopped off to look at a map and was trying to decide if i was supposed to fly back on an airplane (but then how would i get my car back to use?) or to try to drive the whole way back by myself (so exhausting and so uncertain). while i was standing on the side of the road a car full of some girls pulled over. i don't know what they were doing, but i explained my situation and asked for help. they were really giggly and distracted. i asked if one of them could give me their phone number so that i could call if i got lost, and one started to tell me a number but stammered, and i could tell she was lying to me- giving me a false number. i quickly ended the conversation and started climbing through the woods a little to see if i could figure out where i was. -my subconscious is working overtime, it seems, to help me make sense of things while i sleep. so much about belonging. so much about finding myself in a familiar place that i no longer feel good about investing in-

from a dream:

A flower is a poem about the death of a seed.