a new endeavor | from behind the lens

Photographs really are lovely relics.  They capture moments as though frozen in time, spur on memories sparked by an instant, and relive smiles that remind us what joy looks like.  I have always loved taking photographs, with what started as the view through an oblong Kodak camera, and made it's way to thick, floral print albums filled with sticky backings and plastic coverings.  I was simply enamored with finding a moment and catching it, like you would fireflies on a summer's evening, hopeful that such light would illuminate your glass jar even after letting them go.  Songwriting, in certain ways, holds to the same aspiration; a beautiful seizing of life and the emotion that makes it so.  Although I never intended to study photography, examining light and shadows and angles, or researching lenses and camera bodies, I somehow find myself closer to that reality.  Traveling the country this past year took my love for photographs beyond what I had yet known, and after an impromptu engagement session for my sister and her fiancé, I found myself diving into a craft I least expected.

In brief, it looks like my hobby is extending beyond those bounds, and I'm quite excited by the idea!  So I wanted to give you a literal look into what I've been up to, which has so far culminated into two photo shoots, but of course, every endeavor needs some sort of beginning.  These are just a few of my favorites from each session, and though I am most certainly a work in progress, it has been rejuvenating to turn yet another love into a way of life.

saratoga stables | from behind the lens

My love for horses, like most girls, started rather young.  Then I met my best friend at the age of nine, and she lived on a small horse farm.  I was hooked.  We groomed them, fed them, galloped them, even competed with them.  Granted, they were homegrown competitions involving twinkies and bike helmets, but we loved our time together... both my dear friend and the horses :)  At one point, my family started taking day trips to the Saratoga Race Track in Saratoga Springs, NY where we were each given $10, of which my dad had to make our bets for us; bets called according to the horses name or color.  There may have been some strategy involved in this most recent, more "adult" day to the races. . . although we still lost our money, so I wouldn't put too much stock in the stats.  In any case, different worlds, these small town farms and high society stables.  Riding western in a dusty paddock versus english saddles pushing each horse to her limit.  Even so, the love for these exquisite creatures has always remained.  Though now I am far from any rural New York horse farms and haven't ridden along the wooded trails in years, every glimpse of a horse keeps me mesmerized by their beauty. 

"Do you give the horse its strength or clothe its neck with a  flowing mane?  Do you make it leap like a locust, striking terror with its proud snorting?  It paws fiercely, rejoicing in its strength, and charges into the fray.  It laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; it does not shy away from the sword.  The quiver rattles against its side, along with the flashing spear and lance.  In frenzied excitement it eats up the ground; it cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds." Job 39:19-24

 

Summer's Saga - The Question of Modesty

'Tis the season!  That is, for swimsuits.  And it seems that along with summer cheer comes conversations that revolve around the bikini.  At least the bikini is merely an originating point, but rather well-suited to somewhat stuck, yet blog-happy conversations of "Whose fault is it?"  Well before scantily clad women became rather publicly accepted, the blame was being passed and the finger being pointed.  Women should be able to wear whatever they want.  It's the guys fault for not being able to keep his eye's inside his own head.  Or on the other token, men, if women dress provocatively, swimsuit season included, they're looking to give an eyeful, so cover up ladies.  No one wants to be told what they can or cannot do, and so in essence, everyone would rather be the victim.  So which one is it?  Who should really "take the blame"?

I have seen and heard many posts, interviews, and opinions spewed over the topic.  Rarely do I cast my thoughts on rather quarrelsome driven subjects, as most of the time people read blogs and articles not really to learn or gain another perspective, but to either merely affirm what they already believe or selfishly find a point that they can refute.  So perhaps I can appease both sides of the summer saga and put the feud to rest.  Well, at least one can hope.  So here's my resolution, and perhaps you'll keep the one thing everyone seems to want to see more of.  An open mind.

Ladies and gentlemen.  The potential fault of lustful eyes, adulterous spouses, and objectifying women is ... yours.  Please allow me the reader's digest version, because I think it's safe to assume that you'll find several one-sided articles with all the points you need.  (Although I'll give you my two favorites.)

Men, yes, you are visual, sex-driven beings.  Women are as well, but not in the same way, so let's not try to dispute this out merely for the sake of argument.  We're talking about men here, and a man's awareness of male tendencies is important.  Your sexuality should not be a point of oppression, as it is intended to be celebrated - might I add, with one forever lady - but it should most certainly be a point of self-control, of wisdom, and of integrity.  Our culture is beyond confused about the beautifully original intent of sexuality, mainly by an intense lack of overall character, and yes your surroundings, from public beaches to media, are confusing the matter even more.  No one is protecting your eyes, or better yet, your mind, from an onslaught of images that turn a stranger into a sex object or a friend into an affair.  So the question then remains.  Who is responsible?  You.

Allow me to share an example of one man who I deeply respect and who shows character less frequently seen by men his age:  My husband.  There is no doubt that he loves my intellect and my body, but he is discerning enough to know that he is not fully immune to lust if  his eyes fall upon another beautiful sight.  Occasionally I will shop at Victoria's Secret, and if there is one store that flaunts the curves and appeal of a beautiful woman... or two or three... it's this one.  So when my husband and I are in the mall, which is pretty much around Christmas time, and I decide to pop on into VS, Jordan chooses - without my prodding mind you - to sit on a bench a little ways down and wait.  In part, he has no desire to see another woman besides myself in seductive lingerie, although more in full, his head is making a conscious choice to refuse his eyes the satisfaction of seeing these women as sexual objects, even though these ladies know full well that images of their bodies are going to be blown up for any man's viewing pleasure in store window malls across America.  Without even knowing the names of these women, he is respecting them, and by keeping his thoughts pure, he is respecting me.

Now let's make a big old u-turn to the other side of this noisy highway.  I'll run with the same story, if you don't mind.  At one time I received a "free VS panty" card in the mail.  My husband was needing to be out and about, and so I asked him if he would run in and use up the card for me.  He gently reminded me that if he doesn't like to stand outside of the store, then why would he go in?  Point taken.  I felt rather foolish, and realized that I was asking him to do what many of us women ask men to do all the time.  Just don't look.  Does anyone else see the idiocity in this request? I obviously don't want him to have eyes for another woman, and yet I am willing to let him walk into a storehouse of eye candy, believing that with his strong sense of self-control, he can handle it.  Yes, perhaps he could, but why in the world would I want to, in essence, put him in harms way?  Why would I choose to tempt him, removing myself from any blame (even though I was the one who made the request), while simultaneously acknowledging the fact that men need to take full responsibility for their sexual driven tendencies?

It's called "playing the victim" and to be honest, it infuriates me how widespread this selfish foundation has become.  Women, let's talk about our bodies.  They're beautiful and worthy of respect, and honestly, you have the freedom to display your body in whatever way you choose.  Although there's something pretty intense about freedom.  It may mean all things are permissible, but it doesn't make all things beneficial.  We often use such freedom to express ourselves.  For instance, perhaps you think that displaying your body is to the empowerment of women who have been considered less than men for far too long, or perhaps the confidence you draw from a stranger catching a glimpse is a form of self-affirmation.  You have needs, we all do, and the intense power of the female body is readily a gateway to that end by whatever form your motivation takes.  So let's at least be honest with ourselves in saying that we ladies argue to show some skin not for the sake of men, but for the sake of women, or more honestly yet, for the sake of ourselves.  That in mind, here's a question to consider in the scope of this thing called freedom.  Might it be worthwhile, and might you even let some form of character show through, by choosing to cover up a bit more for the sake of the men around you, rather than using the full extent of your freedom for the sake of yourself?

As the old adage goes, "Love your neighbor as yourself", keeping in mind that the origination of this quote didn't stop there.  The author goes on to say, "If you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other."

For some great insight into encouraging women to take a step back into modesty, check out this presentation by Rey Swimwear designer, Jessica Rey: "The Evolution of the Swimsuit"  

*picture above captured from reyswimwear.com

John Pavlovitz does an excellent job in his recent blog challenging men on the issue: "Young Men, Sex, and Urge Ownership"

In the Kitchen with Aaron: Donut Making 101

So I actually had a scone for breakfast, but I still thought you wouldn't mind a little tid-bit on donut making instead.  Yummy!

Back in March I was able to spend some quality time with my family out in New York for just under three weeks.  Donuts seemed to be on the menu a couple of times, first from the ridiculously amazing King's Donut Wagon, an absolute gem of small town goodness right in quaint little Cambridge, NY, and secondly from the hands of two siblings who felt like experimenting.  Mind you, I did just say there was a bit of experimenting going on, so you might need to adjust these as you see fit, should you take the plunge into homemade donut territory!  Although if the time is accompanied with a good friend or a family member, you really can't go wrong.

Here we go then!  [Potato] Donut making 101.

Ingredients:

¼ cup water

¼ cup orange juice


¼ cup butter


¼ tsp salt 


2 medium potatoes, peeled and cooked


1 egg beaten


3-4 cups flour


1 TBSP baking powder

½ can condensed milk 

You will also need oil for frying and cinnamon sugar for dipping the donuts

In a small saucepan, heat the water together with the orange juice. 

Add the butter and salt and heat till almost boiling.  Remove from heat.

Mash up your peeled/cooked potatoes in a larger mixer.  (Gotta love those Kitchen Aid's!)

Add your water and orange juice mix in with the mashed potatoes, along with your one whisked egg, mixing at a low to medium speed.

 In a separate bowl mix your flour and baking powder.  Gradually add to your potato mix, followed by the condensed milk, keeping the mixer at a low speed while you pour.

This is where we switched the mixing utensil to a dough hook.  Mix to form a soft and smooth dough.  If the dough still seems too sticky to the touch (as in it won't come off your fingers with some ease) then simply add more flour, a little bit at a time.  

Here's an example of what your dough would look like if it WASN'T ready :)

Turn dough onto a floured service and gently roll out to ¼ inch thickness.

(Now that's more like it.)

Use a donut cutter, or a glass or tin can (i.e. something circular) to cut your donut shapes.

Fill your frying pan with about ½ an inch of oil.  We used olive oil, since it was on hand, but canola oil is a good way to go.  Wait for your oil to reach a temperature of 350°F and fry dough immediately until they are golden brown on both sides, approximately 2 minutes per side.  Please keep an eye on your hot oil at all times!

Drain excess oil by placing fried donuts on a paper towel covered plate.  

Although while they're still hot, dip each side into your cinnamon sugar mixture.

There ya have it!  Delicious homemade donuts for your eating pleasure.

Of course keep in mind that these are, more specifically, potato donuts.  Faster to make than a standard all flour and yeast donut, although that means you will want to eat them faster as well!  Yes, because they're yummy, but also because the potato will become a bit dense.  Although these donuts keep their flavor the next day, they don't keep their light and fluffy quality.  Still, I have a feeling you won't mind eating seconds on your first sitting :)  Happy eating!

The Copy-&-Paste Friendly View:

Potato Donuts

*bad for the heart, but good for the soul

Ingredients:

¼ cup water

¼ cup orange juice


¼ cup butter


¼ tsp salt 


2 medium potatoes, peeled and cooked


1 egg beaten


3-4 cups flour


1 TBSP baking powder

½ can condensed milk 
Canola Oil for frying
Cinnamon Sugar

Directions:

1. In a small saucepan, heat the water together with the orange juice.  Add the butter and salt and heat until just under boiling.  Remove from heat.
2. Mash up the peeled/cooked potatoes in a larger mixer.  
3. Add water and orange juice mix to the mashed potatoes, along with one whisked egg.
4. In a separate bowl mix your flour and baking powder.  Gradually add flour mix to potato mix while on a low mixing speed.  Follow with condensed milk.
5. Mix to form a soft and smooth dough.  Add more flour as necessary.
6. Turn dough onto a floured surface and gently roll out to ¼ inch thickness.  Use donut cutter to shape dough.
7. Fill frying pan with about ½ an inch of oil.  Bring oil to a temperature of 350°F, and fry dough immediately until golden brown on both sides, approximately 2 minutes per side.
8. Drain excess oil by placing fried donuts on a paper towel covered plate.  
9. While still hot, dip each donut side into cinnamon sugar mixture.
10. Serve warm and enjoy!

Unsung Depths

I can recall a simple comment an older gentleman had shared with me after hearing Lucrezio’s “Storybook” album.  Well to be honest, I can’t remember his words exactly, but to paraphrase: “The music sounds like it’s coming from someone who has been through a lot.”  Grateful that he was willing to identify the depth of raw emotion that pours through our music, I took this singular statement as a compliment.  Though it also left me intrigued, for in reality, haven’t we all been through our own share of heartache?  Haven’t we all “been through a lot”?

It seems my husband and I are yet again at another crossroads, and amidst the excitement, there is hurt.  Granted, therein lies a spark of genuine emotion willing to fill the words of a new song or the gracious ear of my husband.  Words are depth to me, and I do wonder if by only listening to lyrics I have written or blogs I have scribbled down, that you would take me as intensely serious, or my life to be fiercely overwhelming.  In many ways I am, and if I were to tell you every story, you might be equally wearied.  I write for the sake of depth, and I smile for the sake of relationship.  So though you might find my interaction with others greeted by a beam and conversation accompanied by a laugh, I find that words at their deepest go beyond the smirks and into the souls.  When writing, there is no one with whom I am laughing, so I cut straight to the heart, and often times where the heart is considered, there is a burden.  A burden surrounded by joys, perhaps, and in some seasons the journey is more prominently lush forest than dry desert, but an ache nonetheless.  An ache in circumstances; an ache challenging character; though if nothing else, may there always be an ache for someone outside of self; whether friend or foe. 

We, at the core of our human nature, are so desperate to find comfort, to love life, that we suppress the very humanness that makes us truly come alive.  Have you seen what relationships look like that are so close in proximity and yet so far in understanding?  Allow me to paint a picture for you.  Words flow out of people’s mouths, but heartbeats are stagnant.  Mirrors are prominent with “selfie-reflections”, while windows are closed off to outward impressions.  There rings clearly a craving for love from every corner, and yet because everyone wants, no one will give.  Instead mouths are filled with obvious tensions, while silence depletes the needs gone unmentioned.   With laughter only ignorance abounds, leaving in its shadow the cheer that erupts from a heart deeply known.  The more I witness this, the more I wonder, do they really not know that hurt grows only deeper when ignored, and mocked when covered over by casual conversation, with a cigarette and a bottle of beer to complete the ensemble of desperation?

One would think it takes courage to stare down needs and rise above them, or even courage to face the aches with the intent to unravel them.  Courage does have its place, but not for the profit of strength.  Rather, courage comes for the benefit of humility; to recognize that you are just as broken as even your enemy and your needs cannot be satisfied until you are willing to submit to the needs of others.  Listen.  It’s a beautiful place to start.  Simply ask and listen to those around you, to those you’ve ignored, to those with whom you’ve complained or gossiped, to those you have hurt and to those who have hurt you.  True, I did just share with you how I love to write, and that is often a one-sided conversation in which I hear my own voice.  Though I think about the comment of that one gentleman, and I think about the immense amount of joy that has encompassed my journey, wondering why then the words would seem to come out so sad.  Certainly I have deep heartache of my own, though perhaps, while joys are incredibly strong, aches too are richly deep upon hearing the needs of others even without being told.  In writing I share my own burdens, but in listening I can write the words that others haven’t yet even known to speak.  The words they are choosing to forego for the sake of self-comfort, and devastatingly at the loss of humility’s perseverance.  That realization alone is a grievance, and to interact with the broken when they won’t even honor their brokenness is like watching a young bird try to fly with a thread attached to the tip of his wing.  Oh but once that string is cut, and the plummeting feathers tumble to the earth, how sweet the ascension to cleaner air and heights otherwise unseen had it not been for a humble plunge into unsung depths.