Straight Edge Life

Coming in from the cold night air and a rush of exhaustion hits me, killing all will to work. Tonight is a night that should be spent in quiet reflection. Too much has happened. No, too much is about to happen. I’ve felt this feeling before. When I was younger is was almost ever-present. It was always there, telling me what to do, when to do it, and most importantly, why. It drove me, as it drives me now, to follow my heart. To do what I love and nothing more.

I thought tonight about when my mother told my father to tell me that she wanted me to be a photographer. To give up everything else and do it. She told him this when she was very close to the end of her life. I think I know why. It all makes sense to me in retrospect. She spent a lot of her life unhappy. It wasn’t for lack of passion or interest in life. She wasn’t bored with her life, or full of regret for a life unlived. It was nothing like that… She was unhappy because of a strange belief in fate I think… And I think she said this to my father because she saw in me an incomprehensible capacity for joy while making photos. And simply, she wanted me to be happy, and photography was one of the few places she saw that happen. She couldn’t handle watching me climb, and I don’t blame her. What mother wants to watch their child risk life and limb, right? As much as she knew it made me happy, it wasn’t pleasant for her to think about or watch.

So I feel it… I feel the truth and honesty in what she said… Now, I feel the restlessness growing almost out of control. I feel cornered emotionally. I feel quietly, almost pathologically focused. I feel that nothing in the world has a chance of stopping me. Of getting between me and photography. Not because I’m following a dying wish, but because I’ve spent too much time unhappy, and I’m sick of it. My mom was clear enough while in incredible pain to see how important it really was. And perhaps it was because she simply wanted to live some of her own dreams but knew that she wouldn’t get the chance. Perhaps she simply loved me as I loved her. Regardless, there comes a time when enough is enough, and you have to consciously choose to live and simply let life take you where it’s going to take you.

I’m not sure I’m making sense here. I’m writing thoughts that have origins in things you don’t know about. And this isn’t a life story, it’s a journal. Out of context it may not make any sense at all. But for what it’s worth, this is where I’m at. Moving forward in my life. Gaining ground. Listening to my heart. Following my passion. Choosing to live.