One morning, looking at a very smiling picture of myself, I realized that it was not at all how I felt at that moment… I was surprised, then, to find myself, really without thinking at all about the why of it, taking down all the photographs in our house, putting them in a bag, and taking them to our storage space. I am still not sure if I can say why this act felt so important, but it did. There was so much freedom in it. It was as if I was completely honoring the present, not looking back to a previous version of myself for any hope or meaning or story. I still haven’t put them back up. Nor have I added any new ones. And I laugh at myself, because I still take quite a few pictures of my family. And it gives me great pleasure, this act of capturing them as they play on the beach or dance in a recital. Ah, paradox. So for now, the only faces of my son, daughter, husband and myself to be found in our house are the ones that we wear. Note ...
Women's Spiritual Poetry