Bear River Before Sunrise -II.

When I arrived at Bear river it was still dark and I had to wait for sunrise for almost an hour. I miscalculated the time when the sun would rise and found myself in the odd situation of not knowing what to do.  Should I have a nap in my car and wait for sunrise or walk? I chose to walk. 

Walking in the dark desert was a very odd and powerful experience. The moment I got out of my car I found myself in a very noisy environment. Birds were singing everywhere, the desert was slowly awaking from the sleep and the sky was getting patches of light colors.  I walked and didn't feel fear at all, just tried to feel the desert.  

When I returned back to my car the sky was getting lighter. At some moment I was startled by an odd mourning voice. I looked around and saw a cow in the tall grass across the road. Was she lonely? Or she didn't like my presence? I want to believe that she was lonely.

I took these and other photographs listening to a lonely cow a long cry. Sometimes she stopped and I was grateful for this little break. 

At first I was scared that a cow would charge to my car but later I stopped paying attention to her. We shared one space and we were not alone.

Soon geese started to leave their night roost heading South and I forgot about everything. They were so beautiful!

Friends

There is a saying, "Tell me who is your friend and I will tell who you are."

I don't believe in this saying anymore because sometimes friends come in our lives without invitation and you accept them as they are or not.

Alex. An old hippie and a lost soul. Alex is our neighbor and a friend.  He is the only one who talks to us.  When our dog Tasha died he brought to us a bottle of wine and spent with us the whole evening talking.  

Alex is a loner but sometimes he tries to reach people, mostly homeless and help them. Thus, last summer he brought Teddy the Boy help him to plant some trees and to do landscaping. 

Teddy the Boy.  I don't know for how long he was on the streets and how he managed not to lose his kindness and trust with people. Teddy's mother was very poor and she died from pancreatic cancer. Teddy never talked about his father and I never asked him. 

Kimberly. She is homeless, a drug addict and Alex's girlfriend. Something is very touching and fragile about her. I like her a lot. When Kimberly has a fight with Alex we bring her to the old hotel where she can stay till ten o'clock at night and then she is out on the streets again. She is young, in her early thirties.

These are our friends.  If we honestly ask ourselves which person means something to us, we often find that it those who instead of giving advice or solutions have rather chosen to share our pain and wounds and who care. 
Yes, friends care...

Introduction

The friend of mine gave us, his friends, an assignment to write on Facebook about ourselves and gave us two choices. You can write about ten things people don't know about you or introduce yourself.  I chose the second topic and after struggling for one day I came with this introduction and decided to post it here.

I never knew how to introduce myself properly to a stranger, I was always mumbling something like that “I am from… and then like this “Oh, my native country is near Germany.” And if I would see a questioning look on the face of stranger I would “move” my country a little bit North on the map and would mention another country. Sometimes when I was in a mischievous mood, I went into a game saying two words “just guess”. Some people were eager to guess and had fun, some were too serious and demanded a direct answer. Well it was in real life. But how to introduce myself here, on this blog?

Should I tell something about my family?  Or write how I love birds or say about my amateurish paintings. Should I mention that English is my second language or skip it?

I am ordinary person who likes to read, think and sometimes to have fun with photography and paintings. That is it. So far the prelude was longer than introduction itself. Sometimes it happens.

One Little Step Toward Being Brave

For a long time I believed that vulnerability is a weakness, until I took a deep breath and  posted here on this blog my first painting.

Next day I regretted what I have done. I wanted to delete it immediately. Then something  happened. I thought about being vulnerable but also about being brave and I am not the bravest person in the world. Posting my first painting was one little step toward being brave.

We are all vulnerable.  

You are vulnerable when you are standing up for yourself, 
when you are asking for help, 
when you share your art or photography with the world, 
when you are writing on your blog about your illness or struggles with addiction hoping that someone out there will understand what you are going through,
you are vulnerable when you go to gym in not perfect shape to get healthier, 
when you ask for forgiveness.

Do these sound like weaknesses? I don’t think so. Vulnerability is not weakness, it is courage.

I am trying to embrace my vulnerability and be proud of it.

A Picture Memory

Our memories are so unreliable.  When time goes by they sometimes change or fade away, or suddenly get some inexplicable twists that puzzle us. 

When I was ten years old I believed that you could create picture memories and they will stay with you for as long as you wish. Picture memories were so simple, you only have to look at something for a long time and it will be imprinted into your memory.  

I remember how hard I tried to create a picture memory of tall maple trees just starring at them. I thought if I look a little longer I will remember them for the rest of my life. Next to me on the bench was sitting my grandmother and time from time I took a break and looked at her. 

If you ask me what kind of picture memory I created I would tell that I don't remember my favorite maple trees but I remember my grandmother, her blue scarf and plain raincoat, her simple and modest handbag, her kind wrinkled face and a broad smile.  

Well, Well...

One week on the Big Social Media was a very interesting experience.

First, I was hugely surprised that my bird photography blog on Wordpress got on the list of interesting blogs about birds. I was pleased but not overly excited. Nothing is permanent in this life.

I am among those whose blogs are not read only viewed.  Yes, sometimes it sucks but most of the time I am perfectly OK with it. It's not that I don't care about my audience. I do but only a little bit.  I write, photograph and paint for myself.

I do a lot of mistakes while blogging. Probably, you can write a classic textbook based on my mistakes and title it " Why no one reads your blog."

post too much. My quality sometimes compromised by quantity.

don't promote my posts.  And never will. Not because I don't know how but because it takes tremendous time, day after day, month after month. I don't want to waste time doing this.

write and post my photographs of birds for an (almost) non-existing audience.  I am aware that not everyone can become overly excited about my birds and animals.

I respect people who blog for their own pleasure and don't worry who would read them or not read. I don't respect people when I see a huge button on their blogs with the word "DONATE". You don't pay money for reading someone's post. 

The end.