On my last morning in Joshua Tree, which was yesterday morning, I woke up before the sun as usual. I took a few shots before the sun began to rise, but they felt a little bit lackluster. It might have been because the sun rose so red and big on the mountain, or because I was feeling energized by the rising warmth in the air. Whatever the reason, I wanted to shoot with the sun behind me, to get that glow that I finally captured. I never shoot in that way, so it was a departure from what I’m used to. Isn’t it incredible how something so small and insignificant as taking a picture in a slightly different way than usual can stir up so many emotions – feelings of doubt and insecurity and excitement?

This month is for trying those new things, both for the experience and to see how I handle them. That is always the trick with trying something new; anyone can do it, but not everyone will handle it the same way. This month I’ve been tweaking the way I work while shooting, editing, and even writing. I’m stretching.

Something as simple as photographing into the sun might seem trivial and banal, and honestly, it is, quite. But for me something so simple represents a shift in the way I think and what possibilities my mind is open to. It excites me because I get a glimpse of the person I might become, and she is free and willing and eager, even in the face of the rising sun…which, by the way, she never would have been okay with even a few months ago.

I wish you lots of growth today. I’m off to shoot my next concept and video and edit that all together, because I’m a day of uploading behind thanks to no Internet and a malfunctioning computer! So, I’ll be back later today with Day 19!

Well Folks, it was quite a morning!

I woke up at 4am knowing I had an hour drive ahead of me to get to my favorite lake. I shot out the door, having packed the night before, and as I was driving I ran into a fire on the side of the road. That delayed me for a little while and I found myself chasing the sunrise, hoping that I wouldn’t miss the good light. Thankful for me, the lake was behind a mountain and the sun wasn’t up yet when I arrived. Not so thankful for me, the lake was almost entirely dried up. I had to switch to Plan B…

…Which was, essentially, to use what I had and to not complain about it. I was even slightly excited, since I wanted to challenge myself as to what I would do this month when things didn’t go my way. The weather was chilly at 50 degrees Fahrenheit (hey, I live in the Southwest), but surprisingly the water was warm. Usually that lake is absolutely frigid with cold and ice, so I was counting my blessings.

In it’s own way the lake was beautiful; reeds chased the sun everywhere, shooting out toward the sky. The mud was freezing so the water felt good on my toes and soon the stinging in my soles went away. I found myself giggling and smiling uncontrollably in that way that only happens when I am completely alone doing what I love.

My lesson today, at every step of the way, was to see the beauty in the mistakes. Because I was delayed on the road I got to watch the magnificent sunrise. Because the lake was dried up it was warm. Because I was open to experimentation I got images that I really liked, instead of ones I would  only settle for.

I dared myself into into the water and saw the brightness and magic of what creating does; it opens your heart to every experience, big or small, and lets you see what wasn’t there before. On the muddied edge of my lake I sat looking at the fireflies dance on top of the water, and everything was perfect.

I sent everyone out on errands as I stood in the giant ballroom by myself. The lights were dimmed and the quiet was echoing in my mind. I walked slowly to my computer and put on my favorite song, and then looked up at the giant screens that projected my biggest fear and greatest accomplishment. As the music swirled I did too. The emptiness was astounding, and the melody filled the vast chamber with life. I walked to the middle of the room and stood under the skylights as the light bit of daylight crept through them, arching my back to look up several stories above my head.

As the chorus of the song kicked in I spun in a circle, my white cape twirling with me, and I smiled and cried at the same time, in awe of where I found myself in that moment. To retreat within and manifest that feeling outward – it was a release. All of the hardship that had come earlier (and oh, there was so much…so much) that day melted away. I was alone waiting to be filled; I was empty but receptive.

And then the doors opened, in what felt like hours instead of minutes, as my nerves crept back to me. I heard the first shy footsteps walking through the threshold and saw the first face looking back at me, recognizing that she was in the right place, and I ran toward her and embraced her in a hug so big. I didn’t want to let go. It’s like the Doctor says – hugs are good for when you don’t want someone to see your face. I had tears in my eyes but I wanted to be strong. I was scared but I wanted to seem fearless. And then, I let it all go.

I pulled back and looked each person in the face that came in after enveloping them in a big hug, and I let myself feel everything in those moments. I let myself cry with people and laugh with people and authentically find the connections I had been so desperately searching for. The Promoting Passion Convention started that evening, and as it did, I saw something that I had longed for my whole life – a room filled with people who had the same soul that I did. I was amongst the weird ones in the world, the ones who would, could and will change the world in their own unique ways. And I was part of that. I was home.

Over the next few days I experienced every emotion. I hardly ate and I hardly slept and I knew I should be doing better for myself but I couldn’t help but put everyone first. At night when I would lay next to my friend Kelly I would whisper, “I’m so worried for everyone, I hope they are okay – I hope they feel loved”. And she would reassure me and tell me that they did, and that I couldn’t do any more than what I was doing, and then I would calm down enough to sleep.

We spoke so much at the convention about our fears, and mine is, undoubtedly, letting people down. My heart wants so badly to love everyone and make sure they know they are loved, and that was one big reason why I felt so passionately about putting on the event. I wanted to love people. I wanted people to feel loved. Through love comes our greatest potential, and I certainly began to see mine through the misty fog that surrounded us.

When the convention began, the rain was heavy. A hurricane was coming and we were going to feel the outskirts of it. And so, on top of a tall mountain at the most beautiful retreat center, we lived inside a cloud for 4 days straight. We couldn’t see past the few buildings we were staying in. The air was constantly damp or raining, and we couldn’t see the forest for the trees. We learned so much together. We grew in unimaginable ways together. And on the final day, after we had said our goodbyes the night before, something incredible happened.

When I awoke the day after my convention the air hung heavy as it had previous days, but this time it turned pink. The sun was rising and we could see it for the first time. The clouds burned off and we witnessed the rolling mountains, the fog settling in between the trees, and the fire-streaked sky that woke us up and made us feel alive.

I can’t help but think of it as a metaphor. So many lives were touched that weekend. There was so much to be learned, to soak in, to work through. And by the time it was over, the sun had come up on our adventure. The clouds parted and we could see what we knew was there all along, yet that we could not find. And we all stood watching with the greatest expectations.

#promotingpassion2015

I instructed all of the retreat attendees to be up by 5AM and ready to go on a partially moonlit 45-minute walk to a waterfall where, at sunrise, we would all jump in. Needless to say, I wasn’t entirely sure what the turnout would be.

But, to my surprise, everyone gathered at about 5:15AM and we began our walk to the waterfall. They didn’t know what to expect. I had scouted the location before and, since I was in complete awe, I knew they would love it. As we walked a few people came up to me and said, “But we aren’t really jumping in, are we?” To which I replied, “Do I look like I’m joking?”

And I wasn’t. When we got to the waterfall we lined up on the edge, some holding hands, and I counted to three.

1…2………..3!

And we jumped. We didn’t think about the consequences and we didn’t try to think about the shock of it all. We just did it. We climbed to the edge and we jumped in water so cold it was shocking, but also exhilarating. We screamed and clung to one another and tested our limits. And when we were finished, we felt like we could do anything.

That is the beauty of being in the moment and truly being present in your life. You take each challenge as it comes, and you find yourself more and more grateful for the small moments that make up our life story.

Every moment we have is a gift, and to fully appreciate those gifts we must recognize each one as being unique, individual, and inspiring. No one else can be responsible for making your life incredible. By becoming present and focused on the task at hand, there is less time to talk yourself out of adventures, or to dwell on past events. By thinking presently, we are training ourselves in the art of gratitude.

Life is one big story, and if we don’t choose to live it we are choosing to write the same story again and again. Take a moment today to do something that excites, inspires, or invigorates you. Do something unusual. Do something that you love. And above all, promote your passion, for doing so will write the most meaningful lines of the story of your life.

Model: Jen Brook <– Lovebug!