My mom married on a very sunny, beautiful and breezy Sunday afternoon, September 4th, in my hometown. It was a small wedding – only about 12 of us. I couldn’t wrap my brain around this and ended up purchasing 8 bottles of white wine and 3 bottles of champagne. Whoops. Needless to say I have some wine left over. Party at my house!
My hometown is small. Only about 1,600 people. When I am there, I slow down. My third day back home, I finally felt relaxed enough to take a few shots around town with my polaroid. I had a fresh pack of film just dying to be instantly developed. But something went terribly wrong with this packet. All of my photos turned out overexposed and fuzzy. The chemicals leaked across the film – and not in a good way. This was no abstract art. This was just plain bad photography.
I want to share this with you though. Because talking about “failure” is important. Not in a let’s all get down on each other kind of way. What I mean is, people make mistakes. Things don’t always turn out as planned. While I’m deeply inclined to show only the best parts of myself and what I do, this does not a whole person make. I am wounded and flawed. But thank god. As my zen teacher says, wounds are openings to the heart. I like to think mistakes are too.
