Beautiful! Love it! Wish you were here! Northern Minnesota - #NoFilter

Camping in the forests of northern Minnesota may have its drawbacks: no electricity, no running water, no indoor plumbing, (no outdoor plumbing either), no cell service. But at the same time, it has its distinct positives - quiet moments of peace and moments of laughter with no distractions...and no cell service - a chance to tune out to what doesn't matter and tune in to what does. 

I had the opportunity to tune out this past weekend - enjoying the beauty of this place with many of the people that I love most in this world. And it was while sitting around the campfire with them that I was reminded of something very important.  With the fire keeping us warm and providing just enough light for us to see each other as we talked, I looked up to the night sky and was amazed at the hundreds of stars overhead. With the nearest town nearly 20 miles away and none of the light pollution that a town provides...and with the benefit of a clear sky, the stars were like none I've seen before. I grabbed my camera, set for a long exposure, and took a picture of the sky above me. However, what I saw in the picture was not what I saw that evening. In fact, the picture revealed not only the hundreds of stars that I saw...but also hundreds and hundreds more that I could not see with my eyes. Maybe my eyes or my mind could not comprehend the wealth of them in the sky. But the camera, which has no preconceptions and no idealizations and no "filters", was able to see everything that I was not able to see. (#No Filter)  Looking up into the sky, I wasn't able to see all the stars that were sparkling there. But through the lens of my camera, I was able to see so much more. 

In much the same way, conversations around a campfire tend to remove all filters. As you stare into the flames, sometimes you find yourself without a filter as well. As you reminisce and share stories, you might also share a little bit about yourself  - bits and pieces that aren't always readily apparent to others. Insecurities, fears, maybe even triumphs... are more easily shared around a fire. Even with those we love most, there are things we work hard not to let people see but occasionally, when our filters are removed, we open up and let people see who we really are. And what a beautiful world it makes. 

Beautiful! Gorgeous! Wish you were here... Chicago

Sometimes it hits you when you least expect it. You might be driving down the road listening to a song on the radio, you might be paging through an old photo album, you might be watching your favorite show on TV, or you might be traveling somewhere away from home. It's that feeling that reminds you of someone. It's that feeling that makes you wish they were here.

I often share stories of the places that I have been blessed to visit with the tag line stolen from a Meg Ryan movie "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Wish you were here!" This is a sentiment that I often feel when traveling as I think about how someone that I know would so love to be where I am at that moment, seeing what I'm seeing, feeling the sun on their face, or watching it set into the water. I've hoped that in sharing my stories with you that in some ways, I've brought you along  - happy to give you a taste of these places and making me feel like I've experienced these stories with people that I love. This past weekend, John and I had the opportunity to visit Chicago for the Chicago Air and Water Show. We've gone to this show many times over the years and have had different experiences each visit. And, we were fortunate this past weekend to enjoy one of the best trips ever. The weather, though hot, was near perfect and we very much enjoyed watching the heroic feats over the air and water.

However, upon returning home, we heard the very sad news that one of the young men who had been a part of the show - a parachutist with the Golden Knights - suffered grave injuries during an accident at the show, and tragically lost his life today. We saw the moment that something went wrong but as we stood on North Avenue Beach with the announcer telling us that everything was going beautifully, we ignored our instincts that something had gone wrong and assumed that we had misunderstood. We went about our afternoon, cheering as this young man's team-mates safely landed in front of us, and had no idea that only a short distance away, this young man was in such a dire and fatal situation.

We didn't know this young man of course. Though the Golden Knights in fact were staying at the same hotel that we were - and we had just seen a large group of them the evening before in the hotel lobby - looking so incredibly strong, and young, and...confident. I'm sure they were very excited about the opportunity in the weekend ahead to showcase their talents during this amazing show in Chicago.

I didn't know this young man. But I've been honored to know some like him. Young men who stand tall and strong and do the right things. Young men who hold the door open for ladies and address you as "yes, ma'am". Young men who follow their dreams - sometimes living dangerously - but living with such intense passion that you can't fault them for pursuing what they love. They are an inspiration to us all and if you  have ever been lucky enough to know one of these kind of men, count yourself among the blessed fortunate.

I know that this young man's family will have a lifetime ahead of them now of moments. Driving in cars, hearing a song, watching a show, traveling to a new place - where they will think "I wish you were here." My prayers go out to them.

Once, when traveling with my sisters, we were enjoying a moment and someone said "I wish so-and-so was here." One of my sisters shared that she had said this same thing on a recent trip with my Dad and he said "I know. But I guess I can just be glad that we are here."

We go through our days, hopefully appreciating the moments and often times, wishing that someone else was here with us. But in the end, I guess we all have to just be grateful that we are here and know that wherever our loved one are, they are well also.

As the announcer closed out the presentation of the Golden Knights yesterday afternoon, he said "May your days be prosperous and your Knights be Golden."

Sending prayers to the Golden Knight and to his family...

Can A Quilt Make You Cry?

My sister, Sue, is an artist. She quilts. She takes small pieces of different colored fabrics and puts them together in ways that nobody  has done before creating stunning designs. But that alone isn't what make her an artist. She takes her quilting one step further. Sue is somehow able to stitch emotion into her quilts. Each piece of fabric selected and every placement within the design are significant. She also adds to each of her quilts a special signature - sometimes a photo, or a meaningful quote, that describes the bigger meaning of the quilt design. This is what makes her an artist. She has told me that, for her, quilting can be like therapy. And I believe that as she stitches love into every quilt, she is sharing a bit of her soul. Whoever receives that quilt, can't help but feel the connection to that emotion. I believe that is what art truly is - it's not just a pretty design or a pleasing image. Art is connecting emotion from the artist to another person. Can a quilt make you cry? Oh yes...I've seen it happen many times.

Recently, we were fortunate to take a girls trip to San Francisco. Each of us was responsible for planning one day of the adventure and as a result, each day held its own unique itinerary and feel. We toured the city, drove along the coast, visited the redwoods, and ventured to the wine country. A local guide that we met along the way advised us to stop at Cornerstone Gardens which is a bit of an unknown treasure in the wine country. Cornerstone is an “ever-changing series of walk-through gardens” created as an inspiration for people interested in garden design and art. But I felt like it was something more – it was an exploration of the spirit expressed by various garden designs.

We spent an hour or more walking among the various gardens. Artists had created them each with a different theme and symbolic intent. One woman created a garden in honor of the brother she had lost - where “his whispers could be heard among the leaves”. But my favorite was the Wishing Garden. Each visitor to this garden was encouraged to take a length of ribbon and write a wish on it, and to then hang it on a wishing tree. The artist asked for wishes of “hopes for what is possible” which viewed together will “represent dreams of an entire community.” The tree was filled with wishes that others had left behind – some of them silly and fun, and some of them heartbreaking. We each took our turn. I don’t know what my mom and sisters wrote. I wished that “Days like today could be in slow motion so I could really savor every moment.” I can’t put my finger on it exactly but this garden was both therapy and art. Therapy for all those who entered and shared their wishes, and art because of the connection made with the person who created the vision.

We didn’t know at that time, but in a matter of only a few days, we would be together again – making wishes and sending out prayers for my brother Mike who was ending his journey in this world. My family was about to begin a four-day vigil together during which we promised to not leave him alone. During this time, we were witness to incredible care and emotional healing therapies of prayer, music, and companionship.

Many of you who know me well know that I enjoy photography and have participated in a personal project over the past six years of taking (at least) one photo every day. I’ve often thought of this more as a visual diary as opposed to art. Through those last days with Mike and the days that followed of planning the memorial, I continued my project but often times struggled with wondering “what is the point?” and wondering how I could continue my project on those days when it seemed pretty meaningless and how to do so in a way that was respectful. There were days when I certainly considered not taking a photo. However, I’ve taken a look back at some of the photos that I took over the last couple weeks and find that, for me, photography was my therapy. My visual diary became visual prayer - it forced me each day to truly be in the moment for at least one moment of that day, forced me to be inside myself and to allow myself a moment of peace. I needed those moments of solitude in order to pay honor to what was happening that day. Perhaps some of my photos may resonate with someone else who was there or someone else who has experienced the same emotions, and in that way, they become therapy for us both and perhaps even elevate themselves to becoming “art”.

We experience art and therapy acting together in so many ways every day and each person has their own expression whether it be quilting, photography, music, writing, animals, knitting, wood-working, whatever you are drawn to. I hope that you have art in your life and I hope that your art brings you peace to enjoy the moment.

Fifteen Years From Now....

I took a photo of my grandkids recently. The photo was taken at the end of a great day together. Everyone was in good spirits after plenty of time playing outside, a visit to Auntie's cupcake house, and lots of silly play and laughter. They actually even posed for me - a rare occurrence - usually my pictures of them are taken while they are busy and not even aware that they are being watched. I love this photo. Sammy sits with her arm protectively around her "little" brother and her other hand is linked with his between them. I thought to myself, how fun would it be to take this same photo again in fifteen years to see how they've grown up. As I continued to think about that, I found myself thinking about all the things that will happen in their little lives over the course of those years, and also thinking about how quickly it will pass for me - just the blink of an eye.

The year will be 2030. Sammy will be 19 1/2 (I'm sure she will still be counting half years at that point) and Joey will be 18. She will probably be in college and Joey will be preparing for his high school graduation. They will have learned to tie their shoes, write their names, stand in line, read a book, do addition and subtraction, and most likely will surpass me in geometry, algebra, and chemistry. They will have friends and lose them. They will enjoy hundreds of celebrations with their family and they will also know the quiet of sometimes being alone. They will ride a bike (and probably will both also ride dirt bikes) and drive cars. They will break hearts and may have theirs broken as well. They will become more fully who they are - styles, likes, dislikes, interests, passions - and they will make lots of decisions about how they will use their talents as adults. They will have school conferences, concerts, and sporting events that their parents will attend (and probably a few grandparents as well). They will give their parents gray hairs and at least a few sleepless nights. They will receive thousands of hugs from me and I will receive thousands of laughs from them...and endless pride.

How can all of this happen in just fifteen years of time? It doesn't seem like enough time for everything that will fit inside. And yet from my perspective, I know that I will just close my eyes for one moment, and when I look again, it will be 2030 and I'll hope to be standing on this same grassy hill taking their photo once again. They will be grown and I can't wait to see what that looks like on them. I'm guessing that Sammy will probably still have her arm draped around Joey. They will both look confidently into my camera lens with eyes that have seen more than I can even imagine today.

And I know that it will feel like just a blink of an eye...

Beautiful! Gorgeous! Wish you were here...Prague

There is a bridge that stands in Prague connecting Prague Castle with Old Town and providing a means to cross the Vltava River for more than 600 years. Since ancient times, this bridge has been the scene of commerce, battles, political unrest, and celebrations. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people have walked across this bridge and for the most part, they would have enjoyed the same sights that I saw when crossing this bridge just a few weeks ago. I have to admit that I always experience a quiet thrill when walking in the steps of history. For me, it was exciting and humbling to reflect on the knowledge that this bridge has stood for so many hundreds of years before my visit, and likely will stand for many hundreds of years in the future. I like to think that having walked in the footsteps of so many, I am part of that history and part of that future as well. 

It seems that many people might share this same longing to be a part of something permanent. Approximately halfway across the bridge, there is a monument (one of almost thirty that line its walkway) where people attach padlocks with their name, or the name of their loved ones, and the date that they crossed the bridge. I suppose that as they place their lock upon this monument they envision the possibility that it will stand there long after they have left, as a testament to their presence or even as a testament to the relationship with the loved one that they have documented on their padlock. As I first crossed the bridge, I stopped to look at this particular monument and to read some of the inscriptions on the locks left there. "Zaneta + Kuba", "Luisiana + Pasquale". Couples love documented for all time. Or at least that is what they envisioned.

However, on my return journey, I noticed a workman standing at this monument with a bolt cutter that he was using to methodically remove each and every padlock. Of course, the citizens of Prague do not want their monument spoiled with the leave-behinds and remembrances of so many people. And I agree that removing the locks is most logical course of action. However, for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking during my visit about all the people who left their locks anticipating their place in history, only to have them removed on a Tuesday morning by a workman with a bolt cutter.

We walk in the steps of all those who have come before us and sometimes we leave behind things of great permanence. But sometimes our footsteps will only be remembered by ourselves and by the spirits of history rather than through tangible proof that we once walked in this place. 

Prague is a city resonating with the history of hundreds and hundreds of years. And, while visiting, I was honored to feel a part of that history - even if only for a blink in the lifetime of time.

 Prague Castle

 The castle at Cesky Krumlov

 Gothic details overlook the city streets of Prague.

 Swans on the Vltava River.

 Charles Bridge

 Old Town.

 "The Biggest Music Club in Central Europe"? Really?

 Photo bomb at Prague Castle

 Art?

 Street Performers

Prague at Dusk