Today my To-Do list is longer than my arm. I've got to download and edit the photos from last night's fundraiser (which I had planned on blogging about), keep prepping photos and writing text for the website and a whole list of things that are only relevant to me and I will spare you from having to read about. After dropping my daughter at school this morning I arrived home ready to start the work day. As I was trying to catch up on email/blog/twitter, I heard an unholy series of crashes from downstairs, followed by silence. When I went down to investigate I found a pile of broken glass, tangled frames and some ruined photos at the base of the fireplace.
My dream for my fireplace mantel, up until about 20 minutes ago, was to have white frames in a variety of sizes, layered artfully atop one another, spread across the mantel, leaning against the wall and filled with B&W prints of my personal work. I haven't gotten very far in my project. If I find prepping photos for the web frustrating now, I've found prepping photos for print equally if not more frustrating in the past. Recently, I simply haven't had the time or resources to devote to editing, printing and displaying personal work, even though I've now found a lab who gives me the results I was looking for. Those three lonely prints were the only tangible representation I had of the work I do for myself and no one else.
After locking the animals out of harm's way, I stood there staring down at the broken mess and I wasn't sure how to respond. Part of me wanted to cry at all the lost time and effort and money that went into that venture. Part of me wanted to rail at the kitten, whom I had lovingly adopted last week after finding him and his litter mates behind my garden shed. A kitten who was now hiding under a bookcase after causing this whole commotion. But, another part of me quietly spoke up and reminded me that I hadn't really been happy with the quality of those prints anyway and hadn't I recently thought that I should stop putting my work in IKEA frames? Come to think of it, isn't this like nature's way of reminding me to clear out the old to make room for something new and possibly better to take it's place?
This new Zen part of my consciousness that has suddenly shown up is a bit annoying. I'd rather be angry that I'm having to pick shards of glass out of white brick. I'd rather be sad that I've lost my only printed works. I'd rather be upset that I'm now even further behind in my workflow than I was when I woke up this morning. Instead I find myself looking at the now blank space above the mantel and seeing an opportunity for creativity. I've wanted a tattoo of an Ouroboros ever since I saw Scully get one way back when I actually owned a television and shows like The X-Files were brand new. Destruction begets Creation. Thank you for reminding me Universe, I'll bear that in mind.
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