Week one again! It’s thrilling – I’ve missed the webinars, the wisdom, the automatic companionship with other MKMMA members. It’s intimidating – working full time plus, in addition to a daily photographic project and related blog, will I remain faithful to the exercises? Haven’t always been so, in the past when my schedule was easier, though I’ve muddled through, muddled through.
And it’s promising. Because it’s a human truth that if you don’t know where you’re going, then
- any road will get you there, and
- you won’t actually know when you’ve arrived.
After two years of asking myself, over and over, what do I want?, two years of retraining myself to believe that I can have what I truly and deeply want, the answer is crystallizing. I know myself better now, understand more of what my gift to the world actually is… and how to most effectively give it away.
And to think the realization had its roots in a chance comment of mine, that once I wouId have paid no attention to, a comment I wouldn’t have been in a position to even make, if not for the past two years of studying Haanel and Og and Emerson.
Since January the 1st, I’ve been taking pictures of the sunrise from the eastern overlook of Barn Bluff in Red Wing, MN. Barn Bluff is a local landmark overlooking the mighty Mississippi; from the easternmost point of the bluff, you can see for ten-twelve miles – which is a feat in southeast Minnesota, let me tell you! By the end of the year I’ll have photos of 366 consecutive sunrises, all from the same spot!
And word’s been getting around; I was recently interviewed by a writer from the Rochester Post-Bulletin about the project. One of the questions he asked was why. Why the project, why Barn Bluff, why every single sunrise for a year.
“I want to show people how pretty the world is,” was what I said.
It was a flippant, off-the-cuff answer meant to sound good for the interview… and yet it resonated with every layer of my being, from conscious to subconscious. The voice of my deepest self seized an unguarded moment and spoke clearly. We miss so much of beauty, particularly in our own back yards, because we never look up from our technology and stress and hectic schedules long enough to notice what’s right there – the liquid ice sculpture of a dew-covered spiderweb in the morning sunlight; the first flowers of spring, poking up through a late snow; the constantly-shifting, fathomless patterns in the clouds on a stormy day; a baby’s laugh; the warm and steady rumble of a cat’s purr.
Time to get all these new realizations down in my DMP!