It’s quite silly, I suppose. But the day I snapped those photographs is a moment in history. It will forever be the moment I captured my greatest fears on film…

I set out that day to define my purpose, determined to share with the world what makes me tick and talk. I was forty-five years old and had been in hiding long enough. I vowed to share my stories in the hope of encouraging others to step out. Sometimes your voice shouts the truth to be heard; other voices are loudest when the silence fills the room.

As a young girl, I often felt pushed aside and shushed as if my voice wasn’t necessary. I frequently hid behind the tears that laced my lower eyelids but couldn’t fall for fear of being noticed. Screaming on the inside for someone, anyone to listen and yet not wishing to draw any attention to my insecurity.

Walking loosened my joints in addition to the cobwebs I had allowed to collect on the pages of my mind. Armed with my camera, my notebook, and my deepest longing to be accepted, I began my journey that day.

Along the pathway, I noticed a rather large ant hill. Remembering the Aesop fable about the ant that worked hard to store away for winter, made me realize I carried most of my burdens alone. In order to relieve some of the pressure I was dealing with, it would require me giving up my need for control. Just like it took a team of ants to carry a kernel of corn, I would need companions to start living my dreams that had been buried beneath my library of books. 

I soon passed a restless river where salmon were battling their swim upstream.  I paused and thought about how I often felt like I was climbing moutains and never getting anywhere. I allowed fear and doubt to overshadow my desire to write my stories. The story of the disciples fishing and catching nothing came to mind. Jesus came and told them to “cast their nets on the other side.” It was that moment I realized I needed to change where I cast my net for readers, not give up writing and go home. 

While walking back the way I had come, I observed a tree I had missed while going the other way. I recalled Birch trees are covered in bark that peels in layers. Just like the Birch trees continue to photosynthesize and grow stronger by peeling away layers, it began to make sense that I would grow stronger and more resilient as I learned to peel away the layers of self-doubt, fear of rejection, and not being good enough. My soul longed to be comfortable in a new skin.

So many analogies along my walk in nature that day. But the most important was still to come. As I proceeded to head home, the deep color of violet caught my eye. Amidst a bed of rocks, a lone iris had bloomed. Tears instantly streamed down my face as my grandma’s words rang in my ear…“Grow where you are planted even if you must stand alone. Be strong and know you have a purpose and live in such a way that people feel loved by your words.”

I wanted so much to pick that iris. It was her favorite flower, and I wanted to hold on to it forever. But, I chose to look away and know it was a gift to remind me to keep growing, dig my roots deep, and let my color shine. 

When I got back to my desk after that long walk, I quickly loaded my camera card into my laptop to view all that nature had revealed to me that day. Crushed at first, when there was no evidence of photos, I sat there stunned. Then I literally laughed outloud as it became clear I had made the common photographer error of not checking for batteries. 

I guess everything would remain “hidden” to the rest of the world since I had no images to post of my adventures. But, to this day, I have an envelope simply marked, RAW. It contains only four photographic prints. They are all black. But if enough light were added and enough layers exposed, bits and pieces of me could be explained.