doorwaystraveler

The Doorways Project. Uganda. An appeal. And a giveaway!

Grab a cup of something. This is a long one. I need your help. We have a chance to do something great. To connect. To experience beauty. To serve. And my friends have donated some gorgeous things to give away in support of unlocking this dream.

In exactly one month, on Saturday April 3rd, I have the opportunity to travel for two weeks in Uganda to do the work I most want and love to do: photograph and gather stories of women bravely walking through doorways toward greater freedom in their lives. This is the continuation of my ongoing (dream) project, the Doorways Project, that began with the trip I took to India last fall with SalaamGarage. And, as my theme word for this year is CLEAR, I felt it was high time that the definition of this project be stated, clearly, here.

The Doorways Project combines my passions for travel, beauty, and connection in a mission to capture images and share stories of women from around the world who recognized and then walked through doorways toward greater freedom in their lives.The doorways I speak of involve subtle or significant life decisions that defy logic, reason, and traditional choices; and that lead to greater peace, happiness, connection, and, ultimately, freedom from suffering.

It is my hope that the images and stories shared through this project will inspire women who may not yet feel they have found their doorway (or who may have been too afraid to pass through) to begin to look for their own unique passages to freedom from the suffering they experience. Further, it is my vision that the Doorways Project will create new doorways through the featuring and promotion of compassionate international humanitarian organizations and the populations they serve; namely, those women who may not have the strength or resources to open the door for themselves.

The photographs and stories captured through the Doorways Project will be shared through a devoted project website (currently being developed) and other social media outlets; and images will always be gifted freely to the people and organizations featured. It is my intent to have the first printed collection of Doorways Project s photographs and stories available for publication in Winter 2012. 

The Doorways Project is my way of paying it forward. Of offering myself and my ability to capture images of the things I see. Of finding my own doorways to freedom in the connection and convergence of my story with the stories of women around the world. And of finding that we are truly all the same.

I am thrilled to have the opportunity to make the next stop of the Doorways Project in Uganda, where I will follow, photograph and listen to the stories of the individuals and communities supported by the work of the Community Action Fund for Women in Africa (CAFWA). CAFWA's executive director, Linda Cole, is a friend that I have admired for quite some time. She and her husband, Tom (the director of Save the Children in Uganda) are the kind of people that make me want to be better. Simply put, Linda lives passionately through her work with CAFWA, which, to date, has opened doors for over 7,000 women through the various partner programs that CAFWA invests in. These include things like microfinance, skills training, income generation, adult education, gender-based violence prevention and victim support, health services, human rights awareness, peace building and conflict management; all focused on improving the lives of women and girls in conflict and post-conflict affected areas. I look forward to following Linda as she oversees these various programs, as well as creating photoessays featuring "a day in the life" with one or two of the women whose lives have been changed since participating in CAFWA's programs.

The photographs and stories I collect in Uganda will be given freely to CAFWA for use toward their promotion, awareness, and fundraising efforts. I will also co-create a fundraising event upon my return, where we will feature the photographs captured and, as always, I will donate proceeds from the sale of any print materials created with the images of women and children served by CAFWA's programs.

And here is the part where I ask for your help.

I need to raise $2000 to cover my travel expenses and to make this trip a reality. I am asking for donations of any amount toward making this happen. I sincerely believe that the images and stories that your donations will enable me to capture and share will give back with interest to the women served by CAFWA.

So, what do you say? Will you help me live my dream?

It's easy. There's a button at the bottom of this post.

As a way to thank you for your contributions, I am offering anyone who donates the chance to participate in a fantastic giveaway. My friends have generously donated their beautiful creations to be given away in support of my dream to do this work. I am so grateful for their talent and their generosity. 

We are giving away:

From Leonie Wise, poet, photographer, and a woman with a brave open heart: 

one copy of "All Of A Sudden", Leonie's newly released book of poems.

From Susannah Conway, writer, photographer, and creator of the Unravelling e-courses (and overall awesome wellspring of inspiration):

Anemones: an ORIGINAL POLAROID (!)

8x8 print of the original polaroid "Cupcakes of Happiness" 

8x8 print of the original polaroid, "The Path"

From Stacy de La Rosa, BellaWish jewelry designer, writer, photographer, and gorgeous being:

BellaWish original necklace: hand stamped sterling silver teardrop pendant with brass oxidized skeleton key and two healing gemstones.The moonstone supports feminine energy and manifesting desires, and facilitates spiritual growth. The garnet represents passion and success.

And, lastly,  from ME:

an 8x10 original Doorways Project fine art gicleé print of the image of your choice captured on my journey to Uganda.

The giveaway is open to all donors.

All you need to do is:

*Donate any amount below, or in the sidebar, toward my journey to Uganda by clicking on the "ChipIn" button.

*Then leave a comment in the comment section of this post.

That's ALL!

*Winners will be chosen at random. One giveaway item per winner. Six chances to win!

*Comments close at 9pm PST on March 19, 2010.

*Winners will be announced Saturday, March 20, 2010.

I thank you, sincerely and truly, for anything you can offer toward supporting this project, unlocking dreams, and opening doors...

now.

 

i sit in the bathtub barely aware that all the water has drained out. my heart is beating fast from the heat of the water, that whirring sound is in my ears. my entire being is heavy with the gravity that only a taste of weightlessness can bring. i haven’t been here in a long time. here. in my body. in a moment. awake. and with it all. this awareness startles me, finds me with those shuddering kinds of tears that we can only share with ourselves. i’ve missed me. i’ve missed feeling free to be whatever i am-apart from the calendar, the plans, the barriers, the trappings. i’ve missed the knowing that i am enough. so much easier to believe the opposite. even now, as i am moving deeper into my dream. even now, as i am taking more risks than ever before. i have been seeking validation,my own, that i am really enough. that my pictures are pretty, powerful. that my words suggest intelligence, or at least sincerity. that my heart is pure.

there’s effort. too much fucking effort going into it. this is not freedom. i feel spread thin. i am tired. certainly that wasn't part of the plan.

and so here i am again. naked. breathing. sobbing. in a bathtub. with god.

ready to try a new way.

one year.

hugging sugan. photo by the lovey ponzi pirillo.

this is pretty much it. if i hadn't started blogging, one year ago yesterday, the moment captured above would not have happened. nor would have countless other moments that have blown my mind and blasted open my heart. 

the risks were worth it.

there have been doorways, opportunities, new friendships, and profound connections.

funny things, deep things, tearful and scary things.

i've been found. i've been seen. and i have experienced purpose.

i thank you, information superhighway, and those who stopped by here, for one hell of a year.

(i must say, though, that i find the word blogiversary a bit queer. can we come up with something else?)

stumped.

i feel i should write something. something useful, translucent, or at the very least, a little entertaining. a tidbit. a morsel. possibly a semi-precious gem. i just want to be able to say anything, really, to fill the gap in this space. to appease the extended pause that pokes incessantly on my back with the ticker countdown of how long it's been since the last. so i am uneasy in the conjuring. it feels a little forced. and i don't like forced.

the keys rattle under my fingertips with emptiness, with backspaces, with expectation, and with long sighs.

some days i am just stumped. and those days seem to string themselves in a row like a conspiracy.

i don't have the energy to tell you an old story. besides, that would feel like a cheap shot. and to attempt to reveal a new one before it is ready would be clumsy and contrived at best.

my commitment here is to tell the truth of what is real in the moment. to sit in the freedom that is the present.

so this is all i've got this morning:  damp, fogged, fluttering, stretched, sun-warming, ripe citrus, and a blank page. 

morning walk in the cotswalds.

 

 

the wanderer is hungry again. insatiable, really. dumbfounded and speechless. restless and prowling.

and when the words are hiding underneath desire, i find it is good to go back and visit with the imagery.

just to be with the glimpses, the takeaway, of slipping on ice in a new world, early in the morning, before anyone else is awake.

before i make dinner.

the light. daughter at vatsalya's clinic for commercial sex workers. ajmer, india. september 2009.

it's been a while.

usually when it comes i am quick to find a place to put it. somewhere that begs for gluing or shredding.

but i don't think i will this time.

for now,  it is just sitting on my chest. on a most ordinary day. swelling, cavernous, and like a i could fold into it a thousand times over. perhaps never to return.

maybe i will evaporate.

this thing is infinite, at the edge of pain. exquisite and fierce.

agonizing, blinding, and faithful.

but this time i won't try to pull its strings.

there will be no clawing. or digging. excavating or explaining.

because i know

that after a familiar barter for a rush of oxygen and a few salty tears,

it will leave me soon enough.

kneaded.

reconstituted.

risen.

in love.

and longing for it to return.

indebted.

the train to bath, iphone, january  2010

the feeling is there all the time. owing. the checks and balances of give and take. have i said thank you enough? do they know how grateful i am? have i offered back, in equal measure, what i have received?  it is a constricted feeling attached to receiving that sometimes darkens the whole exchange. it comes from inside. and it is getting ready to die.

i know that i am not alone in this. i hear it often, especially from mothers. that there is an unspoken construct that shadows their walk in the world; one that dictates that for everything good that happens, something good is owed in return. that for every "break", indulgence, gifted moment of solitude, we are left with something to "make-up" for. and so limits are set. we impose self inflicted restrictions on how much is too much to take for ourselves: how many nights away, how much money spent (or earned), how good we are allowed to feel. for me, it used to bleed into just about any aspect of self-care; to any time or resources i took just for myself. whatever it was, the relaxation or restoration i received in the moment was almost immediately negated by the feeling of debt i was left with.

while there is much less of it in my psyche now, this feeling still persists at a very base level. and i know it comes down to those bottom-dwelling fundamental ideas i have about worth. and shame. and greed. and the kinds of ugly that we don't like to show one another. it has also become blazingly apparent that this is one of those barricade sorts of doorways that is really ready to be busted down. because it stands in the way of freely experiencing pleasure, of valuing my own contributions, and of my worthiness itself.

i'm pretty sure that there really isn't a master spreadsheet up in the heavens keeping track of all that flows. and even if there was, my guess is that it is all balanced perfectly and that it is up to us to trust it. so that's the ideal i'm leaning toward. and i'm thinking that somewhere in this faith is where truly free abundance is found.

come out when you are ready.

window on flanders road, london. january 2010

it's coming up often this week. freshly out of a bout of a it myself, i am hearing the malaise of several of my beloved friends. feelings of self-sabotage. the shame that comes with the greediness of insecurity. the dark clouds that suck the soul and send us deeper under the rock. vitality lost and that sense that we are selfishly robbing the world of our gifts, our service, our compassion. or, worse yet, that we have nothing that great to offer anyway. the boredom with ourselves, our stories, the loops and tangles that repeat.

honestly, i'm not that interested in people who don't confess to their shadows. so i am nothing but proud of these women for being willing to admit that they are wearing "the heavy gray coat" (as one so perfectly put it). and the more and more clear i become, the more i am aware that the choice in these times is in our consciousness. in discerning illusion from the truth. and in being kind to ourselves for as long as it takes to tell one from the other. (the kindness part is hardest of all)

stripped of the shame and feelings of being a pathetic loser, the funk is a doorway. and that doorway just might lead to transcendence.

and so what if we have to sit with the blah a thousand times until we are so OVER ourselves that we actually walk through.

what if that is just fine and exactly the way it is supposed to be?

the women i love who are expressing these murky self-doubting spells are dynamic, powerful, brilliant and all that. they make me feel worth it just to share a room with them. and so, as i step out into the sunshine today, i guess all i really want to do is send a little message their way that i hereby grant permission to stay in it as long as you like. wrap it around you, serve it tea, tell it dirty jokes, sob with it, tell it to fuck off. be loud with it, silent in it, embrace it and let it go.

but while you are there, do take a little look around and see that you are so much more than this moment. just pay attention. offer some loving care to yourself in a way that makes you feel valuable. whatever that is. i know you know.

and remember, i'll be right here, waiting beside the rock, for whenever you are ready to come out.

take your time.

it's ok.

really.

(and when i climb back under, and i most certainly will, you can go ahead and remind me of all this)

willing to begin.

heather, january 2010

after a week of many hours spent behind the camera, i think the term focus has taken on a whole new meaning. it has been about keeping pace with incredibly brave and talented women, finding my footing, trusting my eye, and experiencing a kind of tired i've never felt before.

like bone tired. the kind of tired that comes from holding space, caring deeply, and immersing.

how different it is to really want something. to throw it all in and to have to actually believe i can do it. that i am entitled to be where i am.

and how easy it is to indulge in the idea that i might blow the whole thing and be found out. that i really was a fraud all along.

so continues the unveiling of the obvious. that i am as real and entitled as i believe myself to be. that as i stand in an endless hall of mirrors, and really open my eyes to the friends and colleagues, mentors and muses that are reflected there, i know that it would be nothing short of an insult to them and to myself to reflect back anything less than what i see.

and with that: i humbly proudly share the slideshow from the first of the three photo shoots last week. the subject is a dear friend who radiates the fusion of strength and softness like no other. turn on the speakers or throw on some headphones and spend a few moments celebrating beauty and the willingness to begin.

the one that's been brewing.

the lady of the house, shampura village, rajasthan, india, 2009

so i censor. we all do to some degree. and especially with a blog, because, well, i'm aware of the diverse audience that is reading this. i see my stats, i guess at who's here. i don't want to offend anyone. it's not that i've ever lied, or been inauthentic. it's just that i've kept this place soft. mostly kind. vulnerable. perhaps compartmentalized. while i use words like angst and frustration occasionally,  i haven't  really let on to the unflattering behaviours that accompany these feelings. or the colorful language. the indulgences. the sarcasm. the drama. even the funny.  the underlying layers of real.

maybe you do not want to see these things. maybe if i started dropping f-bombs all over the place, you wouldn't come back. (maybe you'd like me more). what if i admitted that sometimes i am just unapologetically self-absorbed? that sometimes i want so desperately to know myself separate from all that mirrors me (just as much as i want to know myself in all the beauty and connectedness). i crave alone. solitude. division. sometimes i feel over-identified with partner, children, community. i just want to know who i am, stripped away of all that surrounds me.

and, at the same time, i can watch hours of dexter and big love in a futile attempt to forget these things.

same goes for eating chocolate. and staring at walls.

there are doorways that are built for the sole purpose of keeping things out. they're massive and built on assumptions. with motes and scary reptiles. and sometimes it seems that the only way to open them is with pure force. i'm just not sure if the force i am looking for is within or without me. whether i want to rip the fucking thing down brick by brick until i bleed, or if i am longing for someone or some experience strong enough to bust a hole right through it. or, probably truer still, i alternate wanting both. and, at the same time, it is not lost on me that the whole game is built on illusion .

all i know for sure, is that if i truly want to come more completely into an integrated, entitled, worthy, respectable, growed-up version of myself, the traveling seeker of beauty and connection,  i need to ask of myself what i ask of other. and that is to be nothing short of whole. i'm not really interested in just the soft and the pretty. i want to know the throw-down grit, too. where humanity meets blinding light. and wicked jokes sit beside eloquent proverbs. 

and so the obvious is that i best be offering up what it is i ask for. 

less strategy, more reveal.

greater risk and, hopefully, greater reward.