I’m going to let you in on a little secret: I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore.

This medium has cracked me open, and now I’m laying on the pavement, my yolk pooling in yellow waiting to permeate the hard surface. I’m not sure I’ll ever get in. But I no longer think it matters.

What if instead of working so hard to make creativity a job, we just allowed it to move through us. What if I allowed photography to work on me, instead of working for me? What if I just do this for myself, for my family, do document our lives together and show how fucking beautiful we are?

Elizabeth Gilbert says in her book Big Magic that she made a deal with her creativity that she would not put pressure on it to make her money. If it wanted to provide for her financially, she would be grateful, but that she would do it for it’s own sake, regardless. I think I’m going to try that for a while.