A summer in the texas hill country

shot in 35mm fujifilm canon ae-1

Preface

In the midst of one of the darkest, most emotionally intense, turbulent times of my life, my world was rocked and turned completely upside down.

I moved back to my hometown this summer. I felt stuck and unsatisfied with the lavish life I was living; it did not feel genuine.

While I wish with every ounce of my being that I can say that I regret it (I do,) at the time, it was the surest I had been of anything in a very long time.

So how can an intuitive feeling feel so strong and divine at one time, yet leave me feeling empty and broken at a later one?

As I was forced to endure and continue to endure this fiery transformation of my life, I have sought refuge in art. At the lowest point of my life— realizing I didn’t meet my “self-actualization by 25” goal I had set for myself at age 12—I realized that on the contrary, I am FAR down Maslow’s hierarchy chart.

I am enthralled by these photos.

Not only was it challenging to capture beautiful photos in a relatively barren landscape in a boring small town (when I was accustomed to the beautiful gulf coast,) these were taken in a particularly difficult season of my life. One of hurt and regret and hopeless wishful thinking. I did not feel like taking photos—doing the thing I loved. I didn’t really feel like doing anything. I felt my life was coming to a crashing burning end.

But in the midst of the sadness and despair, in the difficult times of my life, I always find that the most beautiful art is fleshed out and created through this.

So in the spirit of transparency, as I sit here writing this, I am not yet 100%. Maybe not even 25%.

But through my pain and grief, I hope I can inspire you to take the hurt, take the grandiose, limitless energy of despair and dejection, and turn it into something beautiful.

This little duck lived in the pond at the park. The duck was always there and was always seemingly happy to see me. They would walk in my direction, swim toward me, and there were multiple times when I would sit on the bench and we would just vibe. The duck and I.

Views from the yard.

Golden Hour

Jazper and I really miss long drives on the beach, windows down, singing our favorite songs. The views here are ok, too. Hills are pretty.

I am thankful for the people I do have in my life. I like coffee and coffee shops. This day was nice

A self portrait of me on my 25th birthday

I am so sorry to Jazper for putting him through all of this. I know this has been hard for him too. He has stuck by my side through all of it. He is so loyal and I love him dearly. I wrote a song about it (sorta)

I love saturated sunsets. They don’t happen here as often as on the coast.

Rocky Roads

Tranquil Train Tracks neatly juxtaposed to the thoughts that remind me of you.

If I have misread the omens, please tell me!

As the seasons change, I remember that life is just that. A series of seasons, with waves that sweep you off your feet. Some of life’s waves are gentle and refreshing, crashing softly on your bare feet in soft sand. Other waves are large, tidal waves. Tsunamis of life. They come after a large life-shaking earthquake and they destroy everything in their path.

Is this for the better good? Is it true what they say, that a sweeping of the old makes room for a season more glorious and prosperous than the old? I don’t know. I will say I am too young to know for sure.

I am believing in God for a glorious season. For it is said that the intensity of one season is a prelude to the season that follows. Life operates in seasons, and I think I can finally say that I have learned that I am in control of my destiny. I will no longer destroy my life out of fear that a wave may come crashing down. Because, the truth is, IT WILL. But, I do not have to be the reason it does.