There’s one phrase that keeps rising to the surface when I look back at November:
I am allowed.
I don’t yet fully understand what I’m allowing myself to do or to be, but I feel it is moving through me like those bare branches reaching toward the sky—determined and grounded even in this season of letting go.
The Practice
My idea is that photos are reflecting my inner world. So I go on what I call mindful photo walks:
Alone, with my camera, incorporating meditation into the practice. Sometimes it’s walking meditation. Sometimes I pause at a place, calm down, set an intention: What do I want to notice today? This could be a colour, light, shapes and patterns ore something completely different Then I follow that intention and take pictures from it.
Later, when I look at the images, I try to see them as they are and notice what comes up within me.
Last month I visited cemeteries nearby. I live in the city, and cemeteries are the easiest way for me to find calm, to look at what’s going on within me, to connect with nature.
Four Images, Four Truths
The Dark Presence
The first photograph unsettles me most. Branches of a plant, I don’t know what it is, photographed against the light. Very, very dark. Some lines of light on the leaves. Even though the dark shape is so prominent and present it does not block the light – on the contrary: It embraces the light to show its power.
In this darkness, the plant is powerfully present. At the top, at the end of the branch, are little dots, maybe faded blossoms or berries. There’s an upward movement that draws me, holds me. The shadow is so present, so powerful.
When I look at this image, it makes me feel uncomfortable. The sharp edges of the leaves, the dark presence makes me feel like the shadow can cut me from inside.
Between Heaven and Earth
The second picture is different. In the foreground, a well with a water tap, water running. A clear view. In the background, blue sky and naked trees reaching upward.
This picture feels calm. Clear. The horizon divides it into two halves with earthly tones in the foreground, clear blue sky above. And the trees, reaching from earth into sky.
Even in the phase of letting go everything, preparing for winter, they still carry this inherent purpose of growing, reaching upward. Like fingers coming from the earth, connecting us to something higher.
Stone Roses
The third image shows a sculpture of roses in front of a tombstone. Yellow fallen leaves rest upon them like little blankets.
Here’s what strikes me: though this sculpture is made of stone, the roses look alive. The leaves emphasize this contrast: something made from stone feels vital, breathing.
This is a picture of hope. I can imagine myself leaning on these roses, being carried, resting there, knowing I’m taken care of. That beauty will come through.
Light Through the Cracks
The last one is a very dark black background with a blurry line of branch in subtle purple. These branches seem to glow. They crack the darkness and light shines through.
I can see myself right there.
A Milestone
In November, I achieved something that felt like a huge step forward on my journey: I created my first zine of pictures I’ve taken over the last two years during these mindful walks.
I shared it with some fellow photographers. I had dinner with my wife and an artist we know and appreciate. Just watching her go through the zine, seeing how she calmed down when she looked at it was confirmation I’m on the right path.
The zine has become my Instagram now. When someone asks what I do, I can show them this instead of pulling out my phone. And taking time is key here.
At a workshop, someone looked through it and said: “These pictures hold me. They got me thinking” – not intellectual thinking, but thinking with the heart, feeling.”
These responses reassured me.
November whispered: You are allowed.
I don’t fit in the mold. I don’t have formal photography training. I’m not a certified mindfulness coach. All I have is my lived experience. Yet here’s what I’m discovering: I already guide others. I’m already doing the work I seek permission for. I just don’t always recognize it as such.
What works for me is creating a habit, a routine, being consistent in this artistic process I’ve found.
One part of that routine is sharing these images every month. Creating space for pause. For looking inward. For honest reflection. I’m still learning what this permission means. I’m still afraid of where this journey leads. I still question if this is enough. This mantra will support me on my journey:
I am allowed!
- Allowed to walk your unconventional path.
- Allowed to trust your lived experience.
- Allowed to be a guide without certificates.
- Allowed to let the shadow be powerful and present.
If these reflections resonate with you, I’d be grateful to hear from you. This practice of sharing is part of how I learn what it means to be allowed.
