May 25, 2015
The Idea
Have you ever had an idea that you couldn’t empty from your mind? What was once just a passing thought soon turned into an all-out obsession? Then maybe you continue to push it away; it’s impossible, it’s out of your comfort zone, someone else should do it. Until that thought plagues you for so long you realize it’s not going anywhere, and the only way to get rid of it is to make it happen, as Nike would say, “Just Do It.”
That idea for me is My Rescue Rocks.
A Story About Fear
It was fear that kept it locked up for nearly a year. I flash back to my LGBT class in college, when Ester called me to the front of the room to read my essay. Maybe I wrote an excellent essay, but being the only heterosexual girl in the class, I never expected to be put in the spotlight for my perspective. As it shook in my hands, my paper made more noise than my meek, stuttering voice did. Ester stopped me, told me everything was ok, and to relax, but pointing out my anxiety just intensified it; I read faster and shook even more. It’s easy for me to write, but ask me to read what I’ve just written aloud to crowd of strangers and prey instinct takes over.
When I did my first test recording, just me and the mic, my finger froze above the record button. Even though I knew no one would ever hear it, I still had to coax myself to speak. The reality of “I’m actually doing this” overwhelmed me all at once and, as if an elephant were standing on my chest, I couldn’t breathe.
Little by little, I’m getting over it. These moments of fear may seem unbearable in the moment, but once I’m past it, it’s over, and I’m still alive. The only way past fear is straight through it and, now, I’m determined to come out on the other side.
Excuses to Fight the Fear
From a broad perspective, fear is just another excuse to run. So I just need a more important excuse to keep walking forward, and I have plenty of them:
- Innocent animals are killed everyday and many animal lovers are totally oblivious to the facts.
- Telling stories is the most powerful way to make a connection with people and spread ideas.
- Hearing a story, first-hand from the source, is even more powerful than reading it second-hand.
- Very few people have extra time to read these days, and more people are turning to audio for entertainment.
- I know too many people with amazing rescue stories that NEED to be told.
- Sharing these stories can inspire more people to support rescue, seek change, and save more lives.
Something Much Scarier
I look at my Gracie Lou lounging on the bed, I pat her pink belly, stroke her soft fur, and think about all the other dogs that weren’t as lucky as her. My imagination puts her back in the shelter, walking down a cold, cement-floored corridor towards a room full of strangers intending to steal her life. I want to cry, but I bring myself back into reality and envelop my dog in a hug, grateful to have her. She picks her head up and licks my nose, and I know she’s grateful to have me too.
The thought of Gracie’s right to live and love being snatched away from her is much scarier than talking into a mic. That’s all the excuse I need.
My Rescue Rocks, the podcast featuring stories about love, tragedy, and survival, will launch this summer! Get on the listener’s list to be notified when the first stories are available to download.
If you have your own rescue story to share please don’t hesitate to submit it here: rescue story submissions.
Join the Listener’s List OR Share Your Rescue Story
May 22, 2015 |
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I remember the exact moment when I discovered the creative flower photographer in me.
I had just gotten back from my annual ohmygoditsspringletsgoforawalk tradition with overflowing handfuls of periwinkles. This was also the first time I brought the flowers to the camera, probably to spare Nick from the inevitable lag time of dating a photographer.
I had had my “strobist” lighting kit (recommended by David Hobby) for awhile by then, but I had never experimented with the color effects gels in the kit. Since I was working with white tulle for my background, I decided to try it. I chose a hot pink gel to tint my flash and, when the image popped up, I oooohhhed and aaaahhhed like the audience of a magic show. I couldn’t believe that the photo I was looking at was mine!
I’ve never been a huge fan of green, but it’s only since that day I began to avoid the ubiquitous green background, ever-present in traditional nature photography, altogether. It’s the flowers that intrigue me, not the grass they grow in!
Could you imagine how these cute green flowers would drown in a sea of grass? A purple sky is much more fitting!
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
May 15, 2015 |
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It was only a few years ago that my camera spent more time in the corner of my closet than in my hands… but spring always inspired me to dig it out again.
I’d go out for a walk, always intrigued by the first daffodil of the season. The burst of yellow like a beam of hope, cutting through the chilly air, and warming up my mood in an instant.
The resulting photos are just snapshots, though – beautiful to the sentimental me, but ugly to the critic I’ve turned into. So many snapshots with busy green backgrounds and unflattering midday sunlight.
My photos never stood out back then… back then I took photos, but now I make them. I used to go searching for pre-made scenes, but now I only search for the ingredients to cook up my own.
Spring still inspires me, but I no longer let my level of inspiration determine whether or not I will work. After 68 weeks of photos, and a bit of retrospect, I can see that my inspired work is never as good, nor as satisfying, as the work I have to push myself through. Inspiration is for lazy artists.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
May 8, 2015
Two siberian squill flowers on a single stalk against an abstract background of surreal pastel rain.
I’ve wandered, awe-struck, through five springs since I began taking flower art seriously, and every year I’m amazed to find flowers I’ve never seen before.
Initially, I’m hip-hopping all the way to my camera with a handful of freshly plucked specimens. I can’t wait to see them up close, make a beautiful photo, and share it with you.
Before posting it, I eagerly flip through my wildflower field guide. Twenty minutes later, groaning, I head to Google. You’d think it’d be a simple search, but it’s more like solving a crime.
First, I have to find an image of the flower I’m trying to identify without having a clue of it’s name. I search combinations of characteristics until I finally find my flower with an accurate name listed. I always do one more Google search with the name to verify it. You’d be surprised how many people just tag photos with whatever flower name they think sounds good, and sometimes I have to start all over again!
Two hours of research makes me proud to present the Wood Squill, AKA Siberian Squill and Scilla Siberica. Mission accomplished!
P.S. Anyone looking for a very part-time job as a wildflower identifier?
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
May 1, 2015 |
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Dreams are like fireworks; the light, the bang… so grand. Then, in seconds, the beauty fizzles out. Nothing but a drifting smoke cloud remains, and soon it’s only a memory.
When I finally see the firework I’m imagining, how quickly will it turn into a puff of smoke drifting into the past? How long will it take for my grand dream about life to turn into everyday monotony? Will it?
When I first dreamt of becoming a photographer, I thought that making a living with a camera was my key to happiness. By the time that dream became a reality, I already had my head in another cloud. My camera isn’t going anywhere – but I’ve become picky about what I want to point it at. So when I blast out of the product photography world as a full-time artist, and the excitement fizzles out… what else will I be chasing?
When my feet are stuck in reality’s mud I gotta keep my head in the clouds. I will dream on, even if I know the euphoria of dreams come true may be as brief as a flash of light in the night sky.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Apr 24, 2015 |
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The rain is so loud it’s like the cable went out with the volume cranked to the max. Nick’s snoozing next to me; the rain is his lullaby. I sigh, wondering if he’ll be sleeping for the next six months.
Gracie is laying on my legs, whining for breakfast, and I contemplate wearing a bathing suit for our walk; I’m sure an umbrella will be about as useful as the t in tsunami.
We’re finally in the land of eternal spring, after five years of planning and saving. We’re in Guatemala, and the first downpour of the rainy season has arrived.
Suddenly an idea strikes me and I kiss Nick awake. “Hi baby,” he whispers, one eye slit open, “what’s up?”
“Let’s dance in the rain!”
“Really?” The slit eye opens a bit more and I’m waiting for him to roll it… Nick is anything but a dancer.
But this is my daydream, so he lets me drag him out of bed as Gracie zoomies around us. I fling the door open and the three of us fly outside to get soaked.
How surreal will it be when we’re actually there? I’d say about as surreal as multi-colored rain.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Apr 17, 2015
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If there’s one problem I find myself running into during this project, it’s presenting seasonal work in a timely manner. We’re now several weeks into Spring and I’m still sending you snowflakes! I’m pretty sure even when I first started sending them, most of you were totally over that magical, winter wonderland euphoria, and ready for the white shit to go away… sorry.
Usually I’m the same way. From the second the temperature starts to drop, so do I. As the daylight hours dwindle more and more, so does my energy, hope, and happiness. I live for spring and summer, long days, and warm sun.
That’s why I saved this photo for last. Even though this is a snowflake and the background came from a snowy scene, it has such a summery feeling. The snowflake reminds me of a sand dollar and the background just screams beach!
Well you know what they say: life’s a beach and then you die… so go out and enjoy the sand! Isn’t that what they say? =P
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Apr 10, 2015
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When I discovered Kenneth G. Libbrecht’s exquisite snowflake photography, I felt I could settle for nothing less in my own.
Then, I read this: “Near-perfect, symmetrical snow crystals are fun to look at, but they are not common.” He wrote. Part of me sighed in discouragement and the other part inhaled a breath of confidence. I would just keep looking until I found perfection.
I almost swept this snowflake off my set and moved on when I saw the crusty edges. Something stopped me, though, something told me to make the image anyway. I could always Photoshop it to beautiful perfection later, I thought.
No two snowflakes are alike, I considered later on in front of my computer, that’s part of their beauty. This tiny ice sculpture formed and it’s the only one of its kind. No one will ever see it again, and I was about to hack it up in Photoshop and mold it into my culturally programmed idea of beauty.
How could I change anything once I realized this? So, in the end, I altered very little but the color.
There’s nothing unique about perfection. Whether it’s beautiful or not… that’s for your eyes to decide.
Apr 3, 2015
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“Hey Number Six,” Martin, the grillman, greeted me, “what can I make for you today?”
I was a little freaked out. How did he know my lucky number?!
“Number Six?” I asked.
“Yeah, that was the number on your shirt wasn’t it?”
“Oh… yeah,” I said, but I’d only worn it once and that was weeks ago. Martin had a sharp memory, but I often wondered if it was his memory or some other sense he used to zoom in on the things that had more meaning.
Six is my lucky number, my favorite number, and the number that often drives some of my OCD behaviors, like how I set the microwave and how many minutes fast the clock in my car reads.
Up until now I could never associate the number six with anything common. That’s part of the reason I’m drawn to it; I tend to be attracted to all things that seem different.
Snowflake after snowflake came down on my glass, and they all had just one thing in common: six points or six sides, never more, never less.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Mar 30, 2015
My girl’s most recent doggie photo shoot.
Gracie was curled up on the couch, probably exhausted from the trip, and confused about why she was in a room with strangers. She was such a sweet angel, my birthday foster, and just minutes after we got her home we were about to lose her.
Gracie was no one’s first choice as a foster dog, much less a forever dog. She had been in foster care for 9 months and her foster mommy was unable to continue caring for her. Karuna Bully Rescue decided Gracie’s rehoming was a priority and froze all rescue intake until the situation was resolved. The problem was, this girl required some extra care, she had a bad case of anxiety.
A few days earlier I had decided I was ready to start fostering again. It was either foster Gracie, or go through the long process of being approved by another rescue. So, being the impatient person that I am, I decided to inquire about her. She was fearful of men and unfamiliar dogs, and usually reacted loudly to close contact with them.
I remember scrolling through her photos, her ears looked different in every shot. Sometimes they were floppy curious, other times one stood up like she was part radar device; they were very animated and quickly became my favorite thing about her.
When I told Nick about her he agreed to take on the challenge with me. Nick is a go-with-the-flow kinda guy, so I knew he’d be on board, just like I knew Gracie would not have any man-hate issues with him; animals just naturally trust Nick, it’s a gift he has. Nevertheless, we both went to meet Gracie, just in case.
It was only 50 degrees, but in March that may as well be summer. It felt amazing to be outside in nothing but a hoodie. A cool breeze came in off the Long Island Sound and the few clouds in the sky soared over our heads as we got out of the car.
Jen was sitting up against a tree on the grass, and Gracie sat in between her legs. Two of Jen’s friends came along too, and they sat on each side of her.
Gracie wasn’t ecstatic to meet us, but she didn’t freak out either, and she gladly took our treats. Nick and I sat down in the grass and completed the circle surrounding Gracie.
We all hung out for a couple of hours. Jen showed me a tube of cream cheese and explained how she used it to instantly reward Gracie as soon as she sees something scary. Gracie only barked once while we were in the park, it was at a guy about 100 feet away. It wasn’t bad, or crazy, nothing like what I expected from what everyone had prepared me for. This would be easy!
Jen started loading bags and bags of Gracie’s things into the back of our car. Blankets, toys, a brand new bag of food, and finally she led Gracie onto the back seat. I felt a rush of excitement that everything had worked out, and we were getting a new doggie to play with.
As I watched Jen hug and kiss her longest foster dog goodbye, though, a pang of guilt swept over me. As a foster mom who has cried over giving up every one of my dogs and cats, even one who was with me for less than two weeks, I knew the pain she was going through.
Gracie Lou snuggled up on this very comfy set.
Gracie was quiet the entire way home. She laid on the back seat, head between her paws, sad eyes glancing up at us. We soon discovered she was the silent and deadly type… her nervousness came out in gas form and we had to keep the windows cracked for most of the trip.
When we got home it was time for kitty introductions. Callie immediately ran to a high shelf to watch her braver sibling, George, approach the new beast. Gracie stared intently at George, drooled, and smacked her lips. For the first time ever, I was terrified that my new foster dog was envisioning a snack in my cat. Everyone had assured me that she was good with cats, but I never loosened my grip on her leash.
A little while later, the cats were hidden away and Gracie was curled up on the couch. Looking at her there, I couldn’t imagine why this sweet girl hadn’t been adopted yet. Her problems didn’t seem so bad.
That’s when I got the text: someone wanted to adopt Gracie.
“Nooooo!” The voice in my head screamed, “she just got here!”
After all the discussions, preparations, and the trip out to get her and bring her home, now suddenly someone was interested?!
Luckily, after all was thought over, everyone agreed to let Gracie settle in with us. We all knew she didn’t need the extra stress of yet another move so soon. The potential adopter never reappeared and Gracie got a chance to do more than settle in.
Around the house I kept her leash on for the first two weeks, I wasn’t 100% convinced that she wouldn’t eat the cats. Not until Callie swatted Gracie on the nose one day when she got too close, and Gracie jumped back 5 feet and whimpered. Turned out Gracie was more afraid of the kitties then they were of her.
I started to take her on long walks around the lake I live on. Armed with a bag of cubed mozzarella cheese and roast beef we set out to get Gracie Lou socialized in the neighborhood
It wasn’t long before we came across another dog; I knew she was going to react, but I was not prepared for how intense her fear actually was. There was no time to give her tasty treats when she went off. Barking, lunging, and yanking me toward the other dog, all I could do was hold onto her, and scream my apologies at the wide-eyed man walking his black lab.
I talked to Jen and Liz, my amazing foster coach, at Karuna Bully. They gave me tips and advice. Liz even sent me a training book (Click to Calm by Emma Parsons) and set me up with a local trainer on behalf of the rescue.
Gracie’s favorite toy is this ball she found on the side of the road during one of our walks and brought home. “Ok I posed for the camera, Dad, can we play ball now?”
Even with all the help, though, I started to feel desperate for her adoption day. Things didn’t seem to be getting better, her reactions were getting worse, and I suspected they had a lot to do with my own fear.
When we met with Ali, a local trainer and rescue-mom extraordinaire, a strange thing happened: Gracie didn’t react once. Not one time. Not to any of the three dogs Ali brought out of her car. Not from far away and not even from 5 feet away. This is literally the only experience I’ve ever had of her meeting new dogs calmly.
I started getting up earlier for our walks, but surprises always turned up that neither Gracie nor I could deal with. A new dog I’d never seen would turn a corner and she’d go berserk. Then one day she reacted to a woman, making my caution bar go up another notch. She was terrified of bicycles, and motorcycles, and random cars too.
Our walks got shorter as I decided it was not fair to try and train her with unsuspecting strangers. I enrolled her in a reactive dog class, but it only lasted a few weeks before it stopped running, and I learned to keep Gracie close to home.
Even through all of these struggles, though, Nick and I were falling deeply in love with her. Maybe it was the way she climbed onto us to snuggle. Or the way her kisses to the nose and ear lobes often turned into gentle pibble nibbles.
Maybe it’s the fact that she needs both Nick and I home in order to play with her toys, just one of us won’t do. When our family is complete, though, she’ll often bring a toy up to us and push it into our hands until we agree to tug on it. She’s adorably insistent.
It was six months later when we decided she was already home. After having her for so long we realized that if anyone tried to adopt her we would most likely end up disappointing them… so we didn’t let it get that far.
And here she is, on the day we decided to officially adopt her, right in between us… which is her favorite place. “I can has middle?”
I can’t believe it’s been two years since we brought her home. Happy Gotcha Day, little pibble.
Obviously, her story isn’t over. We still have challenges to overcome, and I’ve just been avoiding the problem for too long now.
Sometimes I still wish I could have adopted any one of my previous fosters. I would walk around the lake everyday and each one of them was always so happy to greet everyone from dogs to people. Then I realize they all had their own problems… no one’s perfect and this goes for dogs too.
Gracie’s already overcome so much. The first time I ran the vacuum, she was so terrified she went into a corner and peed. (Which, I’m proud to say, is the only accident she’s ever had!) With 2 or 3 training sessions, though, the vacuum became her pal and she now follows it around the house, tail wagging, hoping it’ll spit out some treats.
She would barely let me touch her feet when she first got here. We had to work up to it, but now I can give her a full pedi in one sitting!
These little successes give me hope that Gracie can overcome any fear she has. So now it’s time to address my own fears and get involved with a trainer.
I have successfully introduced her to dogs before, the problem is that it’s a slow process, and I can’t just walk right up to new dogs with any measure of success. My ultimate goal would be for Gracie and I to get up to the point where we can just pass other dogs calmly on the opposite side of the street.
Time to stop talking and do it, which is part of the reason why I’m putting this story out here. Now that you know what I should be doing, it gives me a stronger sense of obligation.
Like I said earlier, I don’t want to practice on unsuspecting passers-by, but I want to introduce Gracie to as many dogs as possible. If you want to help, you have a relatively calm dog, and you live in Putnam or Westchester County please get in touch with me. Gracie and I would really appreciate your help!
