366: Week 2

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January 8: Here is this week's self portrait. It's a "C" chord. Chris starts with "C." And so does cookie.

I taught myself to play the piano several years ago, and it all started with the "C" -- it's the only note I can identify by sound.

9/366

January 9: Sean and Gus, the Psych Bobble Heads -- you know dat's right!

If you grew up in the 1980's and you don't watch Psych, you're missing out on the funniest show on television.

Seriously, what's wrong with you?

10/366

January 10: Fire and Ice.

And chain link.

One of the things I love about this project is how it opens my eyes to the world around me -- especially in the winter, when daylight is scarce. I see light and lines and shapes in places that I would normally pass them by. I saw this little chunk of ice hanging on a fence at work and, yes, I stopped everything I was doing, grabbed the camera from my car, and spent five minutes exploring the scene.

Hey! This isn't the Employee of the Month Project.

11/366

January 11: I swear, there was nothing important happening in FRONT of my car. This is what happens if I don't take pictures at work in January -- I'm limited to shooting out the window on the commute or taking pictures on my kitchen counter.

Both of which are in evidence this week.

12/366

January 12: We're going to Disneyland in October, for my (cough, cough) fortieth birthday, and we started planning this week. I love Disneyland. I want to marry it.

Actually, I need to pace myself, because I am fully capable of going right off the rails with enthusiasm.

Hold me back.

13/366

January 13: The thirteenth day of the year seems a little early (and desperate) to be taking pictures of the backyard fence already...but look at those lines... they were calling to me. 

"Chris...." said the fence, "Chriiiiiiissssssss....look at my pretty, straight lines...look at the nail pattern...and when are you going to stain me...?"

14/366

January 14: You know what I love most about this picture? It's not the sunburst. It's not the silhouetted conifer. It's not even the subtle lighting on the mountain peak...it's the OBVIOUS dust spots on my camera's sensor!

Sheesh. 

Bonus

Pam, over at No-Ordinary Life, and who's heading up the Facebook portion of the 366 Project this year, challenged us this week to "Look Up." Here's my contribution: Mr. Fredricksen's house, from the movie "Up."

It's authentic, inside and out.

So there  :)

366: Week 1

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January 1: A new year and a new beginning.

In 2009, I took a picture (almost) every day, for the entire year. It was quite a year -- my wife was diagnosed with cancer, we went to Disneyland, and I lost my job.  It was as tedious as it was rewarding. By December 31, of that year I was ready for a break -- and then some friends talked me into doing it again. So...in 2010, I took a picture (almost) every day, for the entire year. Again. By the end of 2010, I was done. I put the camera down for almost six months. I lost myself in the beauty of life, without feeling compelled to document it.

It was liberating.

But, by the end of 2011, I found that I was ready to start looking for moments again. The first moment I wanted to see through my lens was sunrise on New Year's Day.

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January 2: We went to the Clark Planetarium, and everyone got mood rings (go figure). Blue/green indicates that my teenage daughter is relaxed.

Evidently she was asleep.

3/366

January 3: The First Dance.

4/366

January 4: Spending my last day of Christmas Vacation shooting a wedding, necessitated my calling in sick my first day back to work.

I spell relief N-Y-Q-U-I-L

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January 5: And so it begins. This will not be the last picture I take while hanging my camera out the window, on the drive home.

Maybe I should do a series...

6/366

January 6: Self Portrait.

I'm thinking about participating in my friend Corey's year long experiment in weekly self portraits, but since I can't stomach the idea of looking at fifty-two images of my own face, I thought I would take a self portrait of the inner me  :)

7/366

January 7: SMILE!

 I paid a visit to the new Natural History Museum of Utah today.

(Along with 95% of the rest of the state)

There were skinny jeans wearing, scraggly beard growing granola types and uber-moms trying desperately to educate their over stimulated children, there were teenagers plugged in and tuned out to the centuries of wonder they were passing through, and dads rushing the family along so he could get home to "the game" -- whatever game it was.

Then there was this guy, just begging me to take his picture.

New Year: No Words Left Behind

Do you ever wonder if your best days are behind you?

I don't.

Never have.

But as I sit here, thinking about the turning of the year, I feel like I should express my gratitude for the year that is passing.

Do you ever wonder if you're having more choice experiences in your life -- or if you're just paying better attention?

2011 was the year I lived.

It was the year that I felt.

It was a year of friends. It was a year of memories -- rekindled and refreshed.

It was a year of awe and wonder, of beauty in new and unexpected places.

 It was the first year that my age has ever profoundly affected me.

It was the year that I saw and heard and sang and laughed and thought and breathed and believed and prayed and watched and smiled and sighed and cheered. It was the year I held closer to what is important and the year that I began to learn to let go of what is not. 

2011 is a year that I am profoundly grateful to have spent on this planet with all of you. 

And finally, a toast to the year before us...

May the New Year find you in a better place than the old. May all that blessed you before, bless you twice again. May the roads you walk be as full of joy and beauty as the destination they lead you to. May your sorrows remind you that life is precious and that experience is a treasure. May your thoughts be noble and your words be kind. May you be a light that brings hope. 

And may your life be as choice as your friendship. 

Happy New Year.

A picture a day....ARE YOU NUTS?!

Hosted by Cecily and Lolli So, it's the new year, and you're full of ambition and excitement. The world is your oyster. There is nothing that you can't do.

"I think," you say to yourself, "that I'm going to take a picture, every day, for the entire year."

WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!

I'm kidding. I'm sure you were just born that way.

Ha ha, really, I'm kidding. I applaud you for taking on this challenge. It's going to be a very rewarding experience, but there are some things you need to know...

First, and foremost, you should understand -- this is going to take a YEAR!!!! You know how it seems like the older you get, the faster the years go by? Well, that's absolutely true in every aspect of your life...except this one. Actually, though the year can really drag, the days and hours will fly by -- you will take more than one picture at 11:59 pm. You may even resort to some wishful thinking/time zone manipulation ("it's still Friday in Hawaii"). By February (or maybe the second week of January) you're going to feel overwhelmed, but stay true. You CAN do this.

Second: You will not take 366 (this is Leap Year) award winning pictures. You will not take sixty-six award winning pictures. You will take a LOT of mundane shots. You will take a fair amount of GOOD shots. You will take a respectable number of extraordinary shots. And you will take a handful of take-your-breath-away-blow-the-doors-off-stand-in-wide-eyed-amazement-this-is-why-I-started-taking-pictures-in-the-first-place-my-neighbor-WISHES-she-could-take-pictures-like-this shots. And that's the payoff.

Part of it, anyway.

TIPS

1. Take your camera with you. EVERYWHERE. Never put your camera away. Leave it by the door, or your car keys. I hang mine on the stair railing, by the front door.

If you ever forget your camera, snap something with your cell phone camera. You can just lump that picture in the "mundane" category.

2. Take pictures. Duh.

But seriously folks, take pictures. There are going to be days -- many days -- when you feel uninspired. Don't wait for your muse -- she has a notoriously bad sense of direction, and is frequently lost. Something magical happens when you place your eye up to the view finder -- the more you try to create, the greater your capacity TO create will grow. I truly believe that. Shoot something. In fact...

3. Shoot 'em all!

Shoot ANYTHING that catches your eye: lines, shapes, smiles, tears, clouds, weeds, messes, cars, hands, fences, shadows, cookies, household appliances...well, you get the idea.  You may find something better later on. Actually, I can't can't count the number of times that I have worked, painstakingly, for a shot -- shooting several dozen pictures to get the right image -- only to stumble, serendipitously, upon something better later on that day. Taking A picture relieves the pressure of that day's obligation, and opens up your senses to find and take THE picture.

4. Most importantly, if you miss a day, DO NOT STOP! One year I shot faithfully, everyday, until mid-April. Then one Friday I forgot.

I just forgot.

I was watching a marathon of Diners, Drive-ins and Dives, on the Food Network, fell asleep on the couch, and woke up a failure. I did it again in August.  I blame Guy Fieri.

Don't think of this as a project to take one picture per day for 366 days, think of it as a year long project to document your life in pictures. If you miss a day, pick up and start again. The great pay off, in the end, is not the sense of accomplishment at surviving, but the amazing documentation of your life's journey over the previous year.

5. Share your pictures on a regular basis (I recommend weekly) -- it's easier to stay committed once you know people are planning on dropping by to see your pictures.

6. Know that I am here for you! If you feel like dropping by and berating me for talking you into this project, that's okay  -- as long as you keep taking pictures. And not just me -- others WILL find your pictures, and you will meet new and wonderful people.

And last of all, remember that even though 2012 is leap year, if the Mayans were right, there's a good chance the world will end in December -- so you get off easy!

Good Luck!

Photostory Friday: Now

Hosted by Cecily and Lolli Have you ever taken a picture that taught you a lesson?

A few weeks back, I was driving through an unbelievably beautiful scene. Before me, thousands of aspens, just changing from green to gold in the early autumn, stretched away to the horizon. Behind me, the same scene extended back beyond the bend in the road I had come around. Ferns carpeted the meadows on both sides of the road. The beauty and intensity of the moment was overpowering. I jumped out of the car, and tromped through the trees, shooting close shots and long shots. I shot up into the blue sky, and down into the golden meadows. Every picture was full of October beauty, but none was capturing what I was feeling.

What I was experiencing was the unique sensation of being present in the moment.

Sometimes we get caught looking one way or the other, along the path of our lives. We look to where we've come from for reassurance and wisdom. Or we look ahead, searching for hopes and promises.  One is a memory, the other is a dream. There's nothing wrong with either of these -- every journey needs a beginning and an end.

But the most important moment of every day, is the moment you're living in right now.

It's a cliche. It's also true.

Every experience that you have ever had, happened to you in the present. That moment helped to determine what you would be in the future, and what you would remember, when you looked back. But sometimes -- often, in my case -- it seems I'm so focused on what lay ahead or behind me, that I lose track of the beauty I'm passing through.

When I got back in my car and snapped this picture, I thought of the stunning scene that lay before me, and the magnificent beauty I had left behind, and realized how lucky I was to be there, present in the moment.

Between our memories and our dreams, is our life.

Photostory Friday: Thirty-Nine

I turned thirty-nine a month ago.

And all of my dreams have not come true.

The day after my thirty-ninth birthday, Steve Jobs died. I've spent the last month thinking about this man, who revolutionized the world, in a few short years -- and then passed away at the age of fifty-six.  What makes him different from me? What took him to the height of success, and would he define success differently than I do? I suspect that answer might be yes.

I've always been comfortable with my age, but thirty-nine feels like a wake up call. Barring anything catastrophic, I figure I'm about half way there. Or almost half...but not quite.

So, I ask myself, have I ever come close to being the person I am supposed to be? The person I can be? I'm not sure, but I know I've spent a lot of life preparing to live my life and, truthfully, you're never quite ready.

I know I want change -- I want TO change -- but I ask myself what...

See...I don't want to be a better father or a better husband or a better son or a better friend or a better employee or a better neighbor or a better writer or a better photographer...

I want to be a better father AND a better husband AND a better son AND a better friend AND a better employee AND a better neighbor AND a better writer AND a better photographer...

It's time to learn to live. I think it's time to do a few things differently.

It's time to walk the beautiful paths, beyond where the roads bend, and to see where they lead.  

It's time to find the source of life. 

It's time for perspective. When you have perspective you can find beauty in the highest peaks AND the lowest valleys. 

It's time to learn to put reflection to good use.

It's time to look at things from a different angle...

...and maybe find the light, hidden in the darkness...

It's time to let the colors of life run together.

It's time to see what lies across these bridges that I've been standing at, for most of my life.  

Hosted by Cecily and Lolli

To the Skyline High School Class of 1991

I'm not quite ready for this night to end.

Like so many of you, I approached this weekend with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. Would I be remembered in a positive way? Would I be remembered at all? What if those I was closest to don't show, who will I talk to? I came right up to the doors of Skyline Friday night, and almost turned around and walked away. What lay beyond those doors, that was of any value to me? My life, as I hope is the case with all of you, has been far more interesting and far more fulfilling in the last twenty years of my life, than in the first eighteen. But I took a deep breath, and walked in, and I'll always be grateful that I did.

What I found beyond the doors Friday night, and at the family picnic this afternoon, and the final presentation this evening, was a group of old friends, who have had the widest range of experiences, but who also share the common challenge of making our way in this world, of raising the next generation, of trying to leave the world a little better than we found it. I found friends to whom I was once tied by the bonds of school spirit, and the Blue and Gold, and the struggles and joys of adolescence, but to whom I am now bound by the greater shared experiences of life.

Every new generation faces the challenges we have faced, it was our lot to face them together. Twenty years ago, we stood together at the edge of childhood, and faced forward. Then, together, we took that first step into adulthood.

So, to you, the Skyline High School Class of 1991, to you who once walked those halls, who wore the Blue and Gold with pride, to you who shone in the spotlight, and to you who stayed in the shadows, to you who came, and to you who wish you could have, to you who have soared, and to you who have your feet firmly planted on the ground, and to you, timeless friends, I say thank you.

Thank you for this weekend. Thank you for twenty years ago. Thank you for remembering with us. Thank you for being extraordinary.

It is honor to be counted among you.