First foto of 2012: Two of my favorite Geminis in the world.

First meal of 2012: Kung Pao Shrimp

First drink of 2012: Cheap Pilsner

First album of 2012: Black Star

First movie of 2012: Ghost Dog

First cig of 2012: 3 1/2 month old Nat Sherman Menthol

First wish upon a star of 2012: Something about friendship...

I thought I'd have it figured out by now, this "knowing yourself" business. And yet here I am, once again questioning and challenging the construct of self that I've held onto for so long. I've been stripping away the layers of how others define me, how I've been socialized to define myself, and I'm trying to piece it all back together again. I am learning to embrace my unfinishedness and to walk comfortably with the idea that my identify is more fluid and flexible than I give it credit for and that I will never be done with the work of self-discovery and reflection...

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I wrote a version of the post above for Shutter Sisters yesterday. These thoughts were spurred by two separate conversations I had Sunday with a couple of my friends. I never expected to have these conversations, mainly because there are some aspects of my identity that I had just accepted my whole life without questioning whether they were the real me or not. Recently, however, I've found myself being unsure, and that's where I am now. Unsure about so much. And I'm actually ok with that. I am also aware that this is possible because of the safe space I operate in within my community, something I know I'm incredibly lucky and blessed to have.

I'm seeking wholeness and authenticity. I know it will require radically changing the way I view myself. I don't know where I'm going with all this, but I'm sooo grateful for those who have been beautifully supportive--old friends and brand new ones.

Today, Cadence turns 7. It hardly seems possible to me. Those days and nights of nursing and dancing and singing her back to sleep don't seem that distant in the past. I can still hear her toddler voice squealing and babbling away. And it wasn't so long ago that I was seeing her off on her first day of kindergarten.

And look at her now. She looks like she's posing for her senior portraits. I already see in her glimpses of the person she is growing up to be, and I can honestly say that I totally look up to this child.

Cadence is definitely a force to be reckoned with. She has singlehandedly turned my life upside down and rightside up, and I would not be the person I am today if it weren't for her presence in my life.

Happy 7th bday, Cadence!

I caught the happy virus last night
When I was out singing beneath the stars.
It's remarkably contagious--
So kiss me.

- Hafiz

It's easy to forget about stars when you live in a light polluted metropolis like Chicago. Lately I have been trying to find that first star of the night so i can make a wish, like I did as a little girl. There is something strangely comforting about this simple act. Perhaps this is why I am so often compelled to go to the beach at night. It's the one place in the city where the sky is big and {relatively} dark enough for me to actually stargaze. The rhythm of the waves lapping upon the shore as the soundtrack is an added bonus.

Moby is right. We are all made of stars. Billions of years within each of us. So the stars that I gaze and wish and hope and love upon today, that light which took a gazillion years to reach my eyes, these stars may someday be the very stuff within our future selves. Thinking about that helps me to resist cynicism. When what we do and who we are seem so insignificant, I'll think of those stars and believe that the light we shine now will someday be seen, and that the stuff we are essentially made of--not just the physical but the emotional and intellectual and spiritual as well--will still be around in some shape or fashion even though we ourselves may be long gone.

Y'all really should come to the beach with me one night...

The motor of the camera’s lens spins and whirs, straining to make sense of the darkness. Sometimes, autofocus is plain futile, and you just have to switch to manual. Even then, your eyes struggle and squint through the tiny viewfinder, and so, out of frustration, you give in and let everything go out of focus and click. And that’s when you breathe deep, relax and see the beauty in the blur. You had no idea. THIS is what you wanted to see tonight.

Life is like that too sometimes, isn’t it? You work so hard trying to maintain clarity, to keep things in focus, utilizing the light you have. Maybe sometimes you just have to give in to the blur, to the unknown and the unknowing. Maybe sometimes you just need to stop struggling so hard to see, to have that perfect vision. For those of us who like to remain in control at all times, the mere thought of letting go in such a way can be an unsettling experience. And yet maybe it can be beautiful. Maybe it is beautiful…

I had a post up on Shutter Sisters yesterday using this foto. I've taken a similar foto at this spot almost 2 1/2 years ago at night. I have these places in Chicago where I like to go by myself at night, and it's always a different experience to be in those spaces in the light of day when other people are around and I am not cloaked in the safe anonymity of the night.

Anyhoo. I think I need to chew on these two little words "Go Slow" for a bit, even as life continues at breakneck speed here in Chicago, where we try to squeeze the last drop of sunshine and warmth out of our summer days before we wake up one morning and find that summer left without so much as a note goodbye, and winter has already moved in. I'm thinking about this as I nurse a strained ankle which is forcing me to slow down during an extremely event-packed week. I have reasons for still going to these events that I won't get into here, but my ankle is making me think about the space I create for myself when I am at these places.

This might be one of those times that I look for solitude even in the midst of community.

My friends had just finished a soccer game in the gloaming, and we had been taking "team" photos in the fading light of this merry band of futbol players. While I think the posed shots were a ton of fun, I have to say that my heart is drawn to the candids in between the "formal" shots. To me, that's where my favorite stories are in photography--those moments in between people's awareness of the camera, those moments in between the subject's consciously exhibiting the persona that they want the camera to capture, those moments in between the awkwardness for those who are uncomfortable in front of a lens.

I love the light in this photo, that light in between day and night, that last glimmer of sun fading into the darkness. I love the chaos in this photo, everybody doing their own thing or trying to spell the letters AMC [for Allied Media Conference which was where we were at] before the photographers yell at everyone to get in position and to hold still. I love that I can still feel the love and joy and magic of this moment, even now..

And I love this...the exuberance, the energy...and mi chiquita in the middle of it all, feeling totally at home w/ mama's friends. And so this is what I read in between the lines, this is what I remember between here and there--that feeling of gratitude for community and friends who "get" my daughter and still love her, because it is a sign that they "get" me and love me too, and I love them back fiercely.

And so my heart melts, again and again, for there is no better way for you to show your love and friendship for me than by showing the same to my child, to treat her with respect, to let her sit in the lap of The Community, totally safe and free to be herself (even when that means her Ornery Self). And this is one reason that I take fotos...to remember these moments that remind me of how much we are loved and how much I love in return.

Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino, y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino,
sino estelas en la mar.

Wanderer, your footsteps are
the road, and nothing more;
wanderer, there is no road,
the road is made by walking.
By walking one makes the road,
and upon glancing behind
one sees the path
that never will be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no road--
Only wakes upon the sea.

~ "Proverbios y cantares XXIX" by Antonio Machado

And so this is how it feels now. In struggle, in life, in friendship. There is no marked path for me to walk, just my feet still trodding on. Those who speak the truth (even when it's hard to hear), with grace and with love--they are welcome to hold my hand along the way. Those who remind me of who I really am and help me clear away the cobwebs of lies-they are welcome to link arms with me in solidarity. Those who believe in dismantling fear and breaking down the self-made fortresses around our hearts--they are welcome to hold me and to be held by me.

I'm gonna lighten the load and leave the naysayers behind. I ain't got time for them.

When I put my camera to my eye at just the right moment and click. When I slice, slice, slice vidalia onions until the pores of my hands sweat out their scent. When I gingerly place filling in the middle of the dough, fold and tenderly seal w/ the graceful twist of la repulge. When I rub her 6 1/2 year old back as she finally drifts off to sleep. When I drive through Chicago in the middle of the night without destination but with a full heart. When I sit by the edge of the water in darkness and let the sound of the waves wash over me. When I lay down in the grass of Humboldt Park as we talk of heart matters until the sky turns morning pink. When I "move to the rhythm that we call resistance." When I speak with my eyes because I cannot find the words.

Do you see me kneeling and kissing the ground? Because I am.

Friday night, late enough to technically be Saturday, I was walking down the street on my own, shuffling through my mixed bag of thoughts, reflecting on the events of the night. I was feeling kinda down, truth be told, and that's probably why my head and eyes were lowered towards the ground. That's how I saw this bit of stencil art on the sidewalk in the photo above. I immediately stopped in my tracks. My initial reaction was, "Aw, how sweeet," (semi-sarcastic) until I saw the note scrawled beneath the stenciling ("No, no, I love you, I LOVE YOU"), and then I laughed out loud. This little exchange between anonymous street artist and anonymous passerby reminded me of a Facebook exchange I had with my fotohermano B that went along the lines of "You da BEST" "No, YOU da BEST!" "No, YOU!" and so on...That memory put a smile on my face.

Had I been walking with my head up and a spring in my step, I probably would have walked right over this little message from the universe. I'm not saying that just because I saw this note, I immediately felt embraced and loved by humankind. What it DID do was to remind me that just a block away was a taqueria where some beloved friends were waiting for me, and for the moment, that was more than enough.