Let the Parties Begin….

These are from wedding shower #1. All I can say is that I am amazingly blessed.  

SHOW SHOW SHOW!!!

Back in the Saddle Again…

This is pathetic. I have realized that I haven’t blogged since Christmas. That is a problem. One that will be fixed!

We started recording Ryan’s music project last night. I haven’t tracked anything since I moved back to Colorado at the end of May. The aspect of recording has been burning in my veins and now I finally was able to do what I love once more. The project is going to be good! I mean very, very good!!!

More goodness to come…..

When People are in Love….

They do crazy things.

I cooked dinner.

I know shocking.

Yes, you read correctly. I COOKED. Despite the belief that I am completely unable to complete such a feat of domestication and depth.

And it was pretty darn good.

Ryan and I, both being photographers, also went on an adventure yesterday afternoon in an attempt to shoot our own engagement photos.

Might I add that is was one degree outside.

ONE FREAKING DEGREE.

I couldn’t feel my toes or nose by the end of it. But I think they turned out just swell.

Being in love is awesome.

Ghosts

“A man’s reputation is what other people think of him; his character is what he really is.”

The ghosts of my past weigh heavy upon my frame in these past few weeks.

The stirring up of dust and grime that covers my forgiven past still creeps its way into my current life at times.

I shall have no more it.

It is said that one can take 20 years to build a reputation and 5 minutes to quickly lose it. How in one single moment or comprimise, all that was once so carefully built will be as dust in the passing wind.

I know of the things I have done. I know of the things I ran far away from. And I know of the souls that I let down.

I wish only that the ghosts of my past would no longer look towards the brokenness of my once perfected reputation and be able to again realize the drastic changes that God has been doing within my character.

I am not the woman I used to be.

Far from it.

I know that I can not buy back my time, or one’s respect, but I can be the one to bring about the changes in my life; as I have been since my fateful move back to Colorado.

I’m no longer focusing upon the bitter remains of my reputation, but the building of the new foundation of my redeemed character.

“Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.”

-A. Lincoln

I’m focusing upon the growth of a tree, no matter how shattered and tired it may have become.

I am a new creation, only by the sheer grace of God.

The ghosts of my past may never truly understand, yet someday I hope they will be able to see.

The tree instead of the shadow.

Thankful

I’m so thankful for the newest additions to my family.

And for the man I get to spend the rest of my life with.

Hands

Is one what one creates?

Or does one create what one is?

Does our success come from our progression in life or in the moments of peace when all rests in silence?

Are my hands building and creating something of worth or a waste of time?

Can these beat up and calloused hands create to make a difference in this broken world? Can they help mold light into the darkness and realities of this life? Can these hands bring about change? Are these hands willing to take that cause and run with it?

Or shall they simply do what they have always done, what they have always been told to do, what’s safe, and predictable?

These hands long for freedom and flow, for the unknown and the untouched, the unseen; for the light and the beauty that can be found in this world when one takes the time to breathe and rest, and also to create and do.

Our hands tell our story. Through every scar and scrape, every ring or lack there of, every inked message or undecipherable, scribbled note and to do. Every nail chipped and every unkempt cuticle.

These hands represent my drive, my ambition, my hope, my dreams.

Every calloused finger significant of every chord pressed and then strummed. Every note left to echo in the crevices of our longing souls.

Every patch of dry, tattered skin reflective of every latte created and sold, of every dish washed and dried.

Or the way a dent has permanently formed where my pen does rest and sway, as words scatter a blank page and paint a picture with words from the longing well of my aching soul.

Or the ring that rests upon my left hand, never leaving, never absent. Always there to remind of commitment to love, to true love, the love that changes people, the love that breaks barriers and lives only where grace and restoration do dwell.

These hands mold themselves to the curves and shape of a camera. They are part of the process in which one seeks to capture a moment in time, to freeze a piece of existence that is not meant to ever be forgotten. The open and the close of the shutter is the way in which we can begin to see all of our world.

With every scrape and every scar,

with every callous and scribbled to do….

These hands are a small part of a much larger story.

A story that will change the world.

A story that is far bigger than any of us.

But together, these hands…

These hands will change the world.

Matthew Roberts and the Katy Janes

I did this photo shoot this afternoon, on this glorious, cold November day.

Please. Go listen now. You’ll thank me later.

LISTEN NOW!

Random Inspiration…

I’m absolutely in love with random trips to the thrift stores around town.

Just the other day, I discovered this sweet jacket for 13 bucks.

And I’ve created a display of some of my prints. They are a constant encouragement of why I do what I do.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been working through this book. It’s a 12 week course all about finding your creativity once again. It is nothing short of inspiring! I wake up everyday so excited to just create. I have so many new goals floating around in my head and heart lately!

Check it:

<The Artist’s Way

Some current goals…

1. Fix my Protools rig and start recording again.

2. Get out of debt.

3. Thrift Stores!!

4. Start a full fledged photography business.

5. Business cards

6. Play atleast one show a month.

7. Visit Portland

8. Read lots!

9. Update my photo equipment and macbook.

10. Learn lead guitar.

11. Actually master the art of the latte!

So many things, and so little time.

I love my life.

“If you want to work on your art, work on your life.” Chekhov

Dear L-town……

Why the intense silence? It is a silence that has crept into my bones, as a ghost or a shadow of what once was that will never live to be seen again. Why no words now? Why the dropping off of all communication, of all hope, of all light into this darkened world?

I fear your opinion of my consequence, of my decisions, of my move. I fear that you have the wrong idea of my reason for leaving, for escaping before I, myself, would have destroyed everything and all that I had left in my aching bones. If I had stayed, if I would have endured, and continued to burn in that place, I would have been reduced to nothing. I would have been brought to the place of choosing, the path of light and the path of darkness; my heart knows which pathway I would have chosen.  I was still choosing the darkness, still aching for the light once again, and realizing that all would never be the same.

Which is why I had to run.

Which I why I had to return back to the edge of all beginnings and start over.

Yet, I fear you believe that I left in the wrong way.
That I was running for all of the wrong reasons.
That I burned so brightly, only to awake one day in May and leave it all behind.

I pray that you understand my decision. That your heart, your mind, and your soul will grasp the reasons in which I have not returned to stay. That you could understand that one-day I shall return and I hope and pray that we shall still be friends.

I only wish I didn’t wake with all of these questions, these unanswered phone calls, these emails that you have left unopened and unanswered.

I only wish that you would know how much I cherish the seasons in time that I spent walking upon your ground, creating within your broken walls, and embarking upon the era that changed me forever. I shall never be the same and no thing and no one shall ever replace you.

Yet you remain silent.
And I wait in the silence.
I wait broken and torn.
Yet, I also wait in a place where I am no longer settling or destroying myself.

I am happy.
My life is beautiful.
And none of it would be so if I had never experienced life with you.

And, one day, when I return, I hope that all is not lost and the shadows and the silence will be nowhere to be seen.

I have not forgotten you, yet why have you forgotten me?

I wait in the silence.
Can you hear me?