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when I come home filthy, covered in mud, bleeding from my brush with thorns and other sharp things of nature and smelling of the earth that I was crawling around on. There are few things in this life that renew … Continue reading
has many challenges. I’m not a new parent. My daughter is twenty-two years old, but that fact has no bearing what-so-ever on reality. I look at the people around me who have small children and I, on some level, feel sorry for them.
The only bloody nose I ever gave anyone was my girl’s elementary school principal. It’s funny, in a sick sort of way, that I will take it and take it, whatever it may be, but when my child is threatened, I become a different human. Or maybe I become less human and more animal, a mama bear, a she-wolf … whatever works. What I do know is that I would go to the ends of the earth for her.
I am certain, beyond anything else, that were she to know I speak so of her, she would be mortified. I don’t care. Not one whit. What I do care about is that she is happy. That she is safe. That she is where she is supposed to be at this particular moment. I, in some ways, live vicariously through her. She is so much of what I wanted to be. A musician, a fighter, confident and brainy. I always hoped, as she grew up, that she would be herself and not like me. That sounds overdramatic, I’m sure, but it is true.
I was so backward. Being one who was bullied and too shy to stand up for myself, I spent much of my life alone. I learned to be alone and, at some point, began to thrive on it. I decided early on that I didn’t deserve to be loved and when someone said they did, I immediately assumed they were lying. The sad truth is that they usually were. It is like a line from a Billy Joel song that says “she’ll ask for the truth but she’ll never believe you”.
But all of that being said, it doesn’t matter how old our children become, they are still our babies. My mom said that to me, but until I had my own, I couldn’t understand it. She is a wise woman, my mom. A wise woman indeed.
Posted in a photographer's heart, a woman's tears, blog, child, courage, daughter, emotions, faith, family, from my heart, hope, Life, life experiences, love, parent, Photography, tears, Time, words
Tagged beauty, blog, child, courage, daughter, emotions, encouragement, faith, family, fear, friends, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, life, love, parent, words
to look over decisions that we’ve made, roads we have taken, choices we have labored over only to find that they weren’t the right decisions, were the wrong turns and were bad choices. But it is a constant in our lives. Not every crossroad we come to will have an outcome that is favorable. Sometimes, the results can be downright devastating.
If the only person such things effected was ourselves, it wouldn’t, I suppose, matter, quite so much. But our decisions, our outbursts, our tantrums, our misdirects … they, like a long, intricate line of dominoes, fall, one against another, starting a chain reaction that can last for years and through multiple lifetimes. Purity and innocence can be taken away so quickly that it would seem as though they never existed.
I have a wealth of understanding on making mistakes and living with them; learning from them. Some of my mistakes have hurt no one but myself, others have touched the people I love the most, causing pain that was never intended, hurt that, though time has surely layered with a cushion, can never, ever, be completely erased.
I understand pain and insecurity. I have known joy and heartache with equal measure. I have lain, curled in a ball while sobs wracked my body to the point that I feared my bones would break and didn’t care if they did. I have known despair and felt the icy fingers of death claw at my mind. I have thought long and hard about how easy it would be to simply drift away into nothingness where life could no longer kick me senseless.
It is because of these things that I have more understanding than I wish to, that I stand now, with my head up and my spirit intact. Life did not break me. It bent me, at times nearly beyond redemption, but it did not break me. I look around and see others that have been bruised and bent themselves. They weren’t broken either, but none of us came out of the fire unscathed. None of us came away from it all whole, but full of holes that left room for the pain and suffering of others to fill.
Because of my broken road, I have found compassion, I have found empathy and I have found beauty that is so stunning that, at times, it nearly breaks my heart. And along the path strewn with shards of brokenness, I have found others, stumbling along trying to find their way. And through discouragement, faith and determination, I was encouraged. We are all, in one way or another, broken and simply knowing that makes me feel less alone.
Matthew 12:20 ~ A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench
Posted in a photographer's heart, being myself, believer, bible verse, blog, brokenness, choices, cry, death, depression, disallusionment, disappointment, dreamer, dreams, emotions, Encouragement, faith, fear, feelings, joy, knowledge, Life, life experiences, love, Photography, strength, strong in body and mind, tears, Time, words
Tagged beauty, blog, brokenness, choices, compassion, courage, death, emotions, encouragement, faith, fear, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, grace, life, love, spiritual encouragement, words
so I suppose I am due. It has been a peacefully wonderful time in which my mind has been moving at a pace that is within the realm that is called, by the rational world, normal. Unprecedented would be the word that comes to mind to describe the amount of time that has passed since the last episode. I knew, however, that it couldn’t last forever. It never does. And curiously, I am glad to have my old friend back, at least for a time.
That doesn’t mean that in a few days I won’t be wishing for silence and a functionality that I can live with, but I have (and I can’t believe I am saying this) missed the wild and random thoughts that roll though my brain like an out-of-control revolving door. Since I started art class, however, I have been in a state of normalcy. It is foreign to me, this normal thought process, and it took a couple of weeks to realize that I could control what entered into my brain pan. I am certain, as I have been certain of little else, that my friends haven’t missed the random, rambling, incoherent and often off the wall messages that they usually receive when I am on overdrive.
I was, I must say, somewhat surprised that a complete meltdown did not occur last weekend after taking my nieces to Chuck E. Cheese. There are few things that have everything conducive to a manic attack as the flashing lights, loud, repetitive sounds and cacophony of smells and voices to induce a full blown manic attack. I was rather perplexed that it did not trigger an episode; perplexed, and yet grateful as there was much to do during the limited hours of that particular weekend.
In my experience, which unfortunately, is vast, sudden, unexpected change seems to be the biggest catalyst. While I have gone through many changes in the past few months, I say again that an art class that I began in February has had an amazing impact on the ability to focus and thwart manic swings. My art teacher, an enigma unto himself and a genius in his own right, has had more of an impact than he could ever know, on my officiousness to harness my thoughts into interpretive ideas. Art has, without doubt, changed the way my mind works.
But as anything else in life, it has it’s limits and eventually, the substance that makes me who I am will become evident. I have spent many months thriving on the racing thoughts and have learned to cope with what most people would find overwhelming and unbearable. The things that seem intrusive to others, I thrive on.
There is nothing wrong with being different from everyone else. As time passes, I realize that being the “odd person out” is more of an attribute than a handicap. Imagine, for a moment, a world where everyone was exactly the same. It would be a slow and arduous form of torture. I can’t even fathom a world with people just like me. I am certain that, were that true, we would brain ourselves with a hammer within a week’s time.
I knew yesterday, when I caved and began listen to Billy Joel’s “Always A Woman” that times, according to Bob, they were a changin’. I had refrained for a long time from the over and over and over, et al, replaying of that particular song and the moment that I made a conscious decision to play it was like admitting that I was warped. It has been on repeat now for the past 36 hours. It isn’t that it is my favorite song of all time, but that seems to have little relevance.
I suppose, more than anything else, I am talking to the millions of others who face themselves on a regular basis and run, screaming, in the other direction. We are who we are. We live as we live. We think as we think. We cope as we cope. There is nothing, inherently, wrong with us. We are who we are and if the world cannot handle us as we are, then the insecurity lies within the world, not within ourselves. I am me. The music I dance to is mine. Regrets are useless as nothing that has passed can be changed. I am comfortable in my own skin, even when my skin seems odd.
Love me or hate me, I am who I am and irregardless of others’ opinions of me, will continue to march to the drum that my God plays for me. I am not ashamed of who I was for without my past, my future would be irrelevant.
Romans 12:2 ~ And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.
Posted in a photographer's heart, art, being myself, believer, bible verse, bipolar, blessings, blog, choices, courage, creation, dreamer, dreams, hypomania, joy, knowledge, laughing at myself, Life, life experiences, manic, manic depressive disorder, meltdown, Moving on, Pentaxian, Photography, Time, vulnerable, words
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changed my life, as well as the lives of many, many others. Five years ago, my youngest niece was born with Down’s Syndrome. She was a tiny, fragile thing who looked as though she would break with the slightest touch. Her fragility, however, was short lived. Before we knew what hit us, Gracie was not only growing and thriving, but had managed to wrap everyone who met her around her sweet little finger. The first time she smiled at me, tears filled my eyes. The first time she called me Nini, I cried. The first time she put those precious little arms around my neck and lay her head on my shoulder, I lost it completely.
The fact that Gracie has Down’s Syndrome is irrelevant to everyone who meets her. Her charismatic personality and over-the-top laughter make it impossible to see anything but the beautiful spirit she exudes. She laughs. She loves. She thrives. She plays. She cries. She gets mad. She is everything she’s supposed to be, but because of that little, bitty, extra chromosome, she is so much more.
Just by being herself, she is an encourager. It is simply not possible to be in Gracie’s presence and not feel a sense of love and acceptance. It was evident from the start that she was one of God’s special gifts. She is blessed in a way that makes her appear larger than life. Her very being commands attention without ever saying a word and people migrate to her, surround her, find solace in her. She is, without doubt or reservation, a formidable weapon against everything negative.
She possesses an innate ability to turn lives around with her genuineness. She is guileless in everything she does, having no agenda or premeditation. Her sense of self is unrivaled and her confidence unwavering; that, in itself, is a testament to the strength and beauty that is part of what makes her who she is. There are many things I would change in my life were I given the chance to do so. Gracie is not one of them.
March 21 is Down’s Syndrome Awareness Day and the purpose of this post is as much to help raise awareness as it is to sing the song of Gracie. I am more than I was before she came into my life, but not nearly as much as I will be in another five years. My life changed, for the better, the day she was born and I will never be the same.
To read Watching Gracie Grow, click on the photo below:
Posted in a photographer's heart, believer, blessings, blog, courage, cry, Down's Syndrome, Down's Syndrome, Photography, emotions, Encouragement, from my heart, God, Gracie, Life, love, photographer, Photography, strength, Time, words
Tagged beautiful, beauty, blog, courage, Down's Syndrome, emotions, encouragement, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, God, life, love, photographer, photography, strength, words
while Barry Manilow played in the background, I spent some time catching up on photo editing. I culled through landscapes, portraits and random shots of various things that caught my eye.
The photographs are often exactly what I expect them to be, but not always. Sometimes, there is more to them than I saw with my eyes; images within images that make me realize, again, just how much there is to see.
The intimacy of holding wonder and beauty in the lens of my camera with nothing but light and shadow in between is profound; the effect it has on me is sometimes startling. Just as a piece of music that soars and resonates takes my breath, so do the images.
Contrast, light, shadow, color, reflection … they capture my imagination and intrigue me, teaching me something new every time. The same shot taken a hundred times will always yield a different result as nothing, not air nor wind nor water nor light, stays the same from one moment to the next.
I find, on occasion, that I have missed shots because I have become so mesmerized by what I was seeing that I forgot to click the shutter. At these times, the magnificence of nature or the human spirit permeate my very being and make me more than I was before; more aware, more real, more emotional, more grounded. Simply more.
There will always be, no matter where I go or what I do, more to see and experience. There will be new ways to feel old emotions and catalysts that will throw me where I never thought I could go. That is the beauty of photography. Every shot is an original. Every shutter click is a memory kept. Every image is a monument to a single, solitary moment in time. The wonder of that knowledge never fades and it never, ever gets old.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: 2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace ~ Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8
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Tagged beautiful, beauty, blog, contrast, creation, emotions, excitement, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, God's creation, image, images, knowledge, life, light, mountains, music, nature, Pentax, photographer, photography, shadow, Through the Eyes of the Spirit, words, worship
and snow BIG, then I am officially done with winter. I am filled to overflowing with frosty windshields in the early, still dark mornings. I am finished with the cold wind whistling through trees that have been bare for too long. Winter weather advisories that never come to fruition and the forecasters who get my hopes up are now on my short list.
Since I love lists so much, it is time to make a new one; a warm weather one. This new and improved list will not include heavy winter coats, gloves or scarves. It won’t include three layers of clothes or multiple pairs of socks worn under fur-lined boots. It also won’t include walking home because the ice is too thick to drive in.
I was recently reminded by a friend that boating season is just around the corner. It took less than two seconds for the image of skimming across the lake with the sun hot on my skin and the wind in my face to fill my warmth starved brain. I foresee cold drinks and much laughter as we frolic in the lake. Actually, I suppose I should clarify; I foresee much laughter as THEY frolic in the lake as I’m not really box-ankled about jumping into water that I can’t see through. I’m more of a “float-on-the-top” kind of gal.
I look at my pale, winter skin and think of sunning myself like a lizard and admiring my tan lines (after the redness fades). I love the sun and, unlike many people I know, don’t mind the 90 plus temperatures of a steamy Appalachian summer. I long for the thunderstorms that come out of nowhere, bringing with them the stunning display of lightning and sky that only God can provide.
I look forward to long hikes along shaded trails and wading in the clear, cold pool at the foot of my favorite waterfall; speeding with the top down over curvy mountain roads to get there. My sister’s pool with the shimmering water and full-sized slide call to me like a siren’s song. Trips to the ocean and embracing the sunrise in the wee hours then sipping boat drinks at sunset will find their place at the top of my list.
Yes, I am officially done with winter and realize as I write this post and compose my list that I am going to need more paper. Now, if I can only get Mother Nature to cooperate, all will be well with the world and I can stop shivering.
Posted in a photographer's heart, Beach, blog, dreamer, dreams, earth, facebook, family, friends, fun, Greeting Card Universe, hiker, Hiking, Life, life experiences, lightning, Mountains, nature, Nature Photographer, Pentaxian, Photography, snow, Time, weather, words
Tagged beach, beautiful, beauty, blog, creation, excitement, family, friends, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, God's creation, greeting cards, life, lightning, mountains, nature, Pentax, pentaxian, photographer, photography, pool, summer, Through the Eyes of the Spirit, weather, words
from a musical journey that altered the perception I have of music and, perhaps more importantly, the percipience I have of myself.
A few months ago, I was introduced to the musical genius of Gustav Mahler. I was taken aback by the way his music touched me, moved me and the joy that it brought to my soul. The profound effect that it had on me was, however, inexplicably isolating; moreso, in some ways, than the other eccentricities that keep me balancing just on the cusp of the world around me.
I had a burning desire to share the brilliance and excitement of it. I found, though, that I could no more explain the way it touched my spirit than I could the way that words and images fill me up. After a time, I spoke of it less and less and held the wonder of it inside myself like a caged bird. I spent many nights lying in bed thinking of it and praying that when the morning dawned, comprehension of its magnitude would become evident.
I made plans to attend The Cleveland Orchestra for their performance of Mahler’s First Symphony and thought I would go mad waiting for the day to arrive. Having listened to tens of dozens of hours of his compositions, I was, in my mind, prepared for what I would experience; I wasn’t even close.
From the first bars, I was riveted. The music soared through the grand concert hall, covering me with a power that I simply wasn’t expecting. Hearing it performed live was like nothing I could have imagined. It moved me so esoterically that I wondered, at times, if I would lose control completely and be asked to leave. I was overcome with emotion and was left, by the end of the concert, beautifully, wonderfully, unimaginably drained.
For a time, I was unable to speak more than a few words about it as it swirled and churned inside me, weaving itself into the very core of my being in a way I didn’t realize was possible. At some point during this time, I was reminded that to fully understand music is to have no real understanding of it at all. It is its own language and changes even as it stays the same.
I ascertained that sharing the overwhelming impact it had on my life was irrelevant for even if I could put my thoughts into words, the intimacy I shared with the music was mine alone. I was, in that singularly, enlightening moment, set free from my own expectations. I knew then that I didn’t need anyone’s understanding of my perception of the music or how it moved me or touched me or sustained me.
I was, in an instant, irrevocably changed for the better and for that, I am thankful.
Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise ~ Psalms 98:4
Posted in being myself, bible verse, blog, Cleveland Orchestra, emotions, excitement, feelings, friends, from my heart, God, Gustav Mahler, joy, Life, life experiences, music, Photography, Time, travel, words, worship
Tagged beautiful, beauty, blog, blogger, emotions, excitement, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, God, life, photographer, photography, travel, words
is how Merriam-Webster defines adventure. I believe that to be an apt definition and find myself in such situations regularly. I love driving along deserted country roads where flowers spring up in the hot days of summer. Putting the convertible top down and heading to the high places with the sun on my face is sheer ecstasy.
I have favorites; roads, bridges, trees, rocks, trails. I love them all, but I do have favorites. Often, I start to one place and find that, without actually being aware of it, end up somewhere else entirely. It is these times I like best for I end up where I need to be to find that which I seek. Sometimes it’s a photograph, other times, it is nothing more than silence ensconced in the beauty and rhythm of nature. In these places of solitude, shadow and light, I think my thoughts and dream my dreams. These are the quiet, lovely adventures that leave my mind clear and my body strong.
I can’t compare my solitary escapes into the wilderness to the whirlwind trips to D.C, St. Louis, New York and Las Vegas. Those were very different adventures. They were full of noise, lights, crowds, smells and frenetic energy. There was no peaceful silence or slow, lazy days. In those places of chaos, shadow and light, I tried very hard to hold onto my thoughts as the world unfolded before my eyes. While in Las Vegas, amidst all the opulence and grandeur, there was a welcome respite; a drive through the desert and across Hoover Dam. That was an awesome experience. Even with my mind boggled and my body tired, it was awesome.
I’m certain that none of what I have experienced thus far will be comparable to the one I am on the cusp of experiencing. I am going to a place I’ve never seen in a city I’ve been before. Lord willing, I will have an orchestral experience that has the real potential to blow my mind with its magnitude. I haven’t even left yet and I already feel altered somehow. I suppose it is the excitement. This era of my life is a precious window; my time, my place. I don’t plan to waste a minute just watching it pass.
Posted in a photographer's heart, being myself, blessings, blog, courage, creation, dreamer, dreams, earth, feelings, from my heart, hiker, Life, life experiences, nature, Nature Photographer, New York City, Pentax, Pentaxian, photographer, Photography, Time, travel, words
Tagged beautiful, beauty, blog, creation, emotions, excitement, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, God's creation, life, mountains, music, nature, Pentax, photographer, photography, travel, words
about hands that has the capacity to make my mouth water. Tonight, as I sat by a friend as he played a song on the piano, I was mesmerized; as much by his hands as by the music they made. They rolled effortlessly across the keys, without thought or direction … simply playing. I couldn’t look away and wished for my tripod and a light. I wanted to capture that moment, but I didn’t want it enough to risk losing the magic. I was surrounded by those powerful notes, feeling them touch my skin as they were absorbed into my blood, my bones, my thoughts; that is not something I would risk losing, even for a photograph.
The hands of an artist are mysterious and intriguing. My art teacher has the ability to practically breathe an image onto a page. Each time I go to class, I stop and stare at a portrait he drew. The realism of it makes me shudder as it evokes precise images of a very frightening movie. I fully expect the portrait to come to life and say, in a menacing, crazy-man’s voice, “Heeere’s Johnny!”. But, I digress. The hands. The permanent ink spot on the finger, the darker shade on the pinkie edge, the way one lies flat on the table while the other draws; I sometimes find myself distracted by his hands and forget to pay as close attention as I mean to. I want to photograph those hands, but it isn’t the time. There will come a time. I need to. And I will. When it’s time.
The hands that hold the hammer are strong and sure, yet gentle enough to bottle-feed a newborn lamb. Those hands would belong to my Daddy. He and I didn’t see eye to eye for way too much of my life. I was too soft-hearted to hold my own against such a strong personality and sense of self. I perplexed him, I think, more than anything. At some point in my adult life, we became close; close the way I always wished it would be. It was then that I started noticing his hands. More often than not they were cut and bleeding, the fingers and palms thick with callouses from years of hard work. I have taken many photographs of his hands, have managed to fade in to the background and work, unnoticed, as he does what he does. Working, praying, fishing, gardening. I have hundreds and each time I look at one, I am reminded of the love and strength in them.
There are others’ I wish to see, to photograph. Some of them are musicians, others not. I do find, though, that the musicians and artists have a greater pull to me as their hands are a part of what they create. Just as my eyes are essential instruments to my photography, so are their hands in the paintings they paint and symphonies they play.
Photographing hands is an ethereal experience for me. It is sometimes heartbreaking, the emotion that they invoke. Knowing that I am close enough to that which I seek, to see it clearly through the lens of my camera, is the kind of moment I hope for. I know, when I no longer notice that there is a body attached to the hands, then it is time.
If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men ~ Romans 12:18
Posted in a photographer's heart, art, black and white photography, blog, creation, dreams, emotions, facebook, faith, hands, Life, life experiences, Photography, pianist, piano, words
Tagged beauty, blog, creation, emotions, faith, gina minton kearns, gina minton kearns blog, Gina Minton Kearns Photography, grace, life, words
A Photographer's Heart 