Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Our Son's Smile
My son has the most beautiful smile. I know. Every mother says that about her child. And we all should. The problem is, I used to be able to capture that smile in photographs. Then, my son's school hired a new school photographer. You know, the person who comes once a year to take school photographs. This guy stole my son's smile. Or drove it away. One way or another, my son could no longer smile naturally for a photograph. He complained bitterly about the photographer. "He makes us pose in unnatural poses." "He wants me to show my teeth and I don't feel comfortable smiling with my teeth."
It's true. I taught at my son's school and I witnessed this guy, firsthand, with the children in my class. One little boy with the most angelic smile came outside for his turn on a lovely October day to be photographed for a school portrait. He sat down where he'd seen the previous victim get up at the end of her turn. I wondered what Josh was thinking of, because his smile looked so loving and natural. I thought, "Wow! He must be thinking of his mom looking at this picture. She is going to just melt when she see's this face." Then Mr. Photographer wiped it out with one sentence: "Okay, show me some teeth!" Instantly, Josh pulled his lips back in the most mechanical way to "smile" for the camera. I cringed. The shutter snapped. Picture ruined.
So it must have gone with my son in his sessions with this man. And for years now, we haven't ordered school portraits. They just don't look like our child. He doesn't like them and neither do we. You can imagine how concerned I was about his bar mitzvah* photos. Candid shots often came out looking great. Posed shots did not. Ever. It was really hard to get my son to smile naturally if he knew a photo was being taken.
Because the use of cameras is not permitted in our congregation on the Sabbath, we arranged with our photographer to take pictures in the sanctuary the Sunday morning before my son's big day. Marla Michele Must of Enchanted Photography (southeastern Michigan) agreed to meet us at Congregation Beth Ahm at 11:00 that Sunday morning. When we arrived, she was already there, reveling in the beauty of our sanctuary, snapping pictures, and smiling broadly. Her son, a school friend of our son's, was there, too.
We began our photo shoot. And something happened. Our son's smile came back. I don't know for certain what combination of factors caused him to be able to relax and be himself in front of the camera. Was it Marla's excitement? Was it ours? His? Was it the presence of a friend watching and interacting with him from the side? I won't ever know. All I do know is that it felt magical that morning—really spiritual and joyful. It felt to me like Marla was the key, the linchpin, that brought a sense of true celebration to all the moments she captured on "film." Thank you, Marla, for helping us recover our son's smile.
*Bar/bat mitzvah--Jewish rite of passage at which a child becomes, for ritual/liturgical purposes, a fully responsible adult in the community.
It's true. I taught at my son's school and I witnessed this guy, firsthand, with the children in my class. One little boy with the most angelic smile came outside for his turn on a lovely October day to be photographed for a school portrait. He sat down where he'd seen the previous victim get up at the end of her turn. I wondered what Josh was thinking of, because his smile looked so loving and natural. I thought, "Wow! He must be thinking of his mom looking at this picture. She is going to just melt when she see's this face." Then Mr. Photographer wiped it out with one sentence: "Okay, show me some teeth!" Instantly, Josh pulled his lips back in the most mechanical way to "smile" for the camera. I cringed. The shutter snapped. Picture ruined.
So it must have gone with my son in his sessions with this man. And for years now, we haven't ordered school portraits. They just don't look like our child. He doesn't like them and neither do we. You can imagine how concerned I was about his bar mitzvah* photos. Candid shots often came out looking great. Posed shots did not. Ever. It was really hard to get my son to smile naturally if he knew a photo was being taken.
Because the use of cameras is not permitted in our congregation on the Sabbath, we arranged with our photographer to take pictures in the sanctuary the Sunday morning before my son's big day. Marla Michele Must of Enchanted Photography (southeastern Michigan) agreed to meet us at Congregation Beth Ahm at 11:00 that Sunday morning. When we arrived, she was already there, reveling in the beauty of our sanctuary, snapping pictures, and smiling broadly. Her son, a school friend of our son's, was there, too.
We began our photo shoot. And something happened. Our son's smile came back. I don't know for certain what combination of factors caused him to be able to relax and be himself in front of the camera. Was it Marla's excitement? Was it ours? His? Was it the presence of a friend watching and interacting with him from the side? I won't ever know. All I do know is that it felt magical that morning—really spiritual and joyful. It felt to me like Marla was the key, the linchpin, that brought a sense of true celebration to all the moments she captured on "film." Thank you, Marla, for helping us recover our son's smile.
*Bar/bat mitzvah--Jewish rite of passage at which a child becomes, for ritual/liturgical purposes, a fully responsible adult in the community.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Catalyst
I am amazed at how one event, one moment in time with a unique confluence of factors, can catalyze positive energy that results in a cascade of life changes. Here's what I'm talking about.
Almost two years ago, I was laid off from a job I once loved, but which hadn't been enjoyable for a long time. The environment I was working in was painfully full of fear, conflict, hypocrisy, and disappointment. It left me spent, deeply discouraged, just surviving through the aftermath: two years of self-doubt, self-loathing, fighting for my dignity as I applied for one job after another and rarely heard anything. Suffice it to say that, although I had turned around some aspects of my life on my own, to do so took a tremendous expense of energy, which often flagged. The resulting state of mind did not qualify me as a healthy, never mind happy, person. I was depressed. Deeply so at times.
In January, unexpectedly, when I certainly didn't feel ready for it, something changed. I attended the bar mitzvah--the ritual of Jewish adulthood--of a camp friend of my son's. My family and I spent the entire weekend with people who seemed to exude love, warmth, and celebration of life--this boy's family. By the end of the weekend, though I didn't know it yet, the self-protective, insulating walls I had built up over years of being knocked down time after time by life's events seemed to crumble. I was vulnerable again. I was feeling my powerful feelings--of all kinds--without cushion or anything to numb me. It was exhilarating and scary. It was exciting and wonderful to feel anything again and, at the moments that what I felt was related to fear or pain, I grieved profoundly. The highs and lows shook me.
It so happened that as soon as we came home from that bar mitzvah, I had to kick myself into high gear for my own son's bar mitzvah, just six weeks away. Anyone who has ever planned a major life event to which many people are invited, and involving multiple gatherings for different sub-groups of invitees, numerous service providers, and complex recordkeeping--this one is coming to this event but not this event, and so on, not to mention last-minute changes--knows that I had my work cut out for me. Add to that the fact that I was my son's coach for all the service skills he had to master for his ceremony, and you've got a recipe for major stress.
Riding on the energy I felt from that weekend in January, I somehow managed not only to get everything I needed into place (with substantial help from my spouse), I seemed to be attracting more positive energy. I still had moments of depression. Self-doubt didn't leave me altogether. Yet, positive energy drove me forward, in large part manifested in the form of service providers who, one after another, reached beyond my high expectations, and made me feel as if we were their only client--or their favorite one--waiving charges, being flexible about numbers and deadlines, and helping with things that were not normally within the definition of their jobs.
All the events of the weekend seemed perfused with light. Even when things went wrong they went right. I felt buoyed by love.
Since then, the trend has continued. Postponing focus on my new business for "after the bar mitzvah is over," I have found a network of new entrepreneurial women who are supporting each other through the learning curves and growing pains of starting a new business in a tough economy. I have found a life coach, inspirational speakers and teachers, old and new friends to talk to, and new clients for my business. Each day, something happens that seems to point in the same direction, with the same message. "The past is over. You are able and worthy. Go forward with confidence. You are not alone; you will be supported."
Timing is everything. In the darkest time of the year, this process began. How fitting. And how fitting that the deluge last night, with an impressive heavenly light and sound display, gave way today to plentiful warmth and sun. I pray that the process continues. You can be sure I'll be doing everything I can to make it do so.
Almost two years ago, I was laid off from a job I once loved, but which hadn't been enjoyable for a long time. The environment I was working in was painfully full of fear, conflict, hypocrisy, and disappointment. It left me spent, deeply discouraged, just surviving through the aftermath: two years of self-doubt, self-loathing, fighting for my dignity as I applied for one job after another and rarely heard anything. Suffice it to say that, although I had turned around some aspects of my life on my own, to do so took a tremendous expense of energy, which often flagged. The resulting state of mind did not qualify me as a healthy, never mind happy, person. I was depressed. Deeply so at times.
In January, unexpectedly, when I certainly didn't feel ready for it, something changed. I attended the bar mitzvah--the ritual of Jewish adulthood--of a camp friend of my son's. My family and I spent the entire weekend with people who seemed to exude love, warmth, and celebration of life--this boy's family. By the end of the weekend, though I didn't know it yet, the self-protective, insulating walls I had built up over years of being knocked down time after time by life's events seemed to crumble. I was vulnerable again. I was feeling my powerful feelings--of all kinds--without cushion or anything to numb me. It was exhilarating and scary. It was exciting and wonderful to feel anything again and, at the moments that what I felt was related to fear or pain, I grieved profoundly. The highs and lows shook me.
It so happened that as soon as we came home from that bar mitzvah, I had to kick myself into high gear for my own son's bar mitzvah, just six weeks away. Anyone who has ever planned a major life event to which many people are invited, and involving multiple gatherings for different sub-groups of invitees, numerous service providers, and complex recordkeeping--this one is coming to this event but not this event, and so on, not to mention last-minute changes--knows that I had my work cut out for me. Add to that the fact that I was my son's coach for all the service skills he had to master for his ceremony, and you've got a recipe for major stress.
Riding on the energy I felt from that weekend in January, I somehow managed not only to get everything I needed into place (with substantial help from my spouse), I seemed to be attracting more positive energy. I still had moments of depression. Self-doubt didn't leave me altogether. Yet, positive energy drove me forward, in large part manifested in the form of service providers who, one after another, reached beyond my high expectations, and made me feel as if we were their only client--or their favorite one--waiving charges, being flexible about numbers and deadlines, and helping with things that were not normally within the definition of their jobs.
All the events of the weekend seemed perfused with light. Even when things went wrong they went right. I felt buoyed by love.
Since then, the trend has continued. Postponing focus on my new business for "after the bar mitzvah is over," I have found a network of new entrepreneurial women who are supporting each other through the learning curves and growing pains of starting a new business in a tough economy. I have found a life coach, inspirational speakers and teachers, old and new friends to talk to, and new clients for my business. Each day, something happens that seems to point in the same direction, with the same message. "The past is over. You are able and worthy. Go forward with confidence. You are not alone; you will be supported."
Timing is everything. In the darkest time of the year, this process began. How fitting. And how fitting that the deluge last night, with an impressive heavenly light and sound display, gave way today to plentiful warmth and sun. I pray that the process continues. You can be sure I'll be doing everything I can to make it do so.
Monday, March 12, 2012
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