Over the past several months, I’ve been avoiding photography. Why? I couldn’t tell you. I closed my business when we left Florida, and just haven’t felt like picking it back up again. In fact, the longer I went without shooting, the easier it was to just ignore it. Sure, I grabbed my camera once or twice to photograph some of the animals that came into our yard, through the window, but I don’t call that “photography.” That’s taking a snapshot with an expensive camera.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve felt more and more anxious about it. No, I don’t think I’m ready to run a full-fledged portrait business again, but I’ve been craving the need to create. I truly miss shooting people. It’s that tingling feeling that goes down your spine when you know you’ve immortalized something REAL…. that feeling is addictive. I want it back.

But… what happens when you take a long break from something? You’re more and more and more obsessed/worried/anxious about the idea that you will utterly BOMB the first time you try. So… you continue to put it off… day after day. You fill your life with other things to take your mind off of it, but it doesn’t make that nagging feeling go away…

The other night, Adrian brought home the industry magazine he received in the mail from Professional Photographers of America, where he advertises his software company. I began flipping through the magazine and was both surprised and thrilled to see an article featuring my absolute favorite nature photographer, Clyde Butcher, who takes incredible, iconic images of Florida and the United States. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Butcher in person and seeing his beautiful silver gelatin prints at a gallery showing in South Florida shortly before we moved. The article didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, or show me photos that I have never seen before… but something clicked in my head. I had to try again… I had to give myself another chance.

The next morning, I came home from my Orangetheory class, grabbed my camera and my 100mm lens, and went out to the backyard to see what I could see.

This is what I found.

No, it’s not an example of amazing artistry… but it was huge relief to let my brain slip back into those familiar ways of “seeing differently.” It was fun. And today… I’m going to do it again. 🙂