one photo a day.
Inside the Harpa Opera House in downtown Reykjavik, Iceland.

Inside the Harpa Opera House in downtown Reykjavik, Iceland.

Taken on the Nile River, Egypt in January 2011. I remember being hustled across a dew-covered, foot-wide plank, several meters long that was teetering precariously from land to felucca (traditional wooden sailboat used in Egypt etc.) and resting high above a pile of sharp rocks below. Five strangers took turns grabbing my hands, holding the shaky plank and loudly cajoled me across using Arabic intermixed with English words. Despite the chaotic, and exhilarating entry onto the boat, we spent the next few hours, drifting slowly along the Nile. Our veteran captain sits on the enormous wooden tiller in the photo, he maintained astonishing focus the entire journey. What an incredible feeling it was to sail along such an important historic laneway, in complete awe, and just take it all in. To just be. Pretty restorative if you ask me.



 



 

Taken on the Nile River, Egypt in January 2011. I remember being hustled across a dew-covered, foot-wide plank, several meters long that was teetering precariously from land to felucca (traditional wooden sailboat used in Egypt etc.) and resting high above a pile of sharp rocks below. Five strangers took turns grabbing my hands, holding the shaky plank and loudly cajoled me across using Arabic intermixed with English words. Despite the chaotic, and exhilarating entry onto the boat, we spent the next few hours, drifting slowly along the Nile. Our veteran captain sits on the enormous wooden tiller in the photo, he maintained astonishing focus the entire journey. What an incredible feeling it was to sail along such an important historic laneway, in complete awe, and just take it all in. To just be. Pretty restorative if you ask me.

 

Taken near Ouarzazate, Morrocco (in the Saharan Desert bordering Algeria) in December 2009. “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” (Lao Tzu). These are not my words of course, but I did superimpose them atop this particular photo for a Christmas card collection I made for an “Energy Exchange” (where-by you trade your home-made gifts i.e. knit scarfs, soaps, Christmas cards etc. for others’) at my old yoga studio in 2012. Evidently, the photo or perhaps the actual experience of spending a night with nomads in the Saharan desert, arriving/leaving by camel, has always reminded me that, in order to accomplish anything you simply need to start, and then move forward one step at a time. 

Taken near Ouarzazate, Morrocco (in the Saharan Desert bordering Algeria) in December 2009. “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” (Lao Tzu). These are not my words of course, but I did superimpose them atop this particular photo for a Christmas card collection I made for an “Energy Exchange” (where-by you trade your home-made gifts i.e. knit scarfs, soaps, Christmas cards etc. for others’) at my old yoga studio in 2012. Evidently, the photo or perhaps the actual experience of spending a night with nomads in the Saharan desert, arriving/leaving by camel, has always reminded me that, in order to accomplish anything you simply need to start, and then move forward one step at a time. 

Taken on Boshkung Lake, Algonquin Highlands in August 2013. There is something unarguably romantic and mesmerizing about fire: watching the embers glow and fade, the flames winding and dancing around logs, branches or kindling, its cozy warmth. Campfires remind me of my many summers spent under the stars (camping, the family cottage, and as a camper and counselor at overnight camp), where a campfire marked a (now) rare chance to share stories, reflect, laugh and celebrate the start, middle or end to our weekend, week, two weeks, month, two months, four months, years… of growing together.

Taken on Boshkung Lake, Algonquin Highlands in August 2013. There is something unarguably romantic and mesmerizing about fire: watching the embers glow and fade, the flames winding and dancing around logs, branches or kindling, its cozy warmth. Campfires remind me of my many summers spent under the stars (camping, the family cottage, and as a camper and counselor at overnight camp), where a campfire marked a (now) rare chance to share stories, reflect, laugh and celebrate the start, middle or end to our weekend, week, two weeks, month, two months, four months, years… of growing together.

Taken in Hamilton, Ontario at The Cannon on Ottawa Street North in late November 2013. There is something so incredibly awesome about walking outdoors, finding a new coffee shop, escaping the snowfall and wintery chill, enjoying a delicious cappuccino and just stopping for a few moments to appreciate and enjoy the company of someone you truly adore and respect, in this case (and his hand makes a guest appearance in the photo), my best friend and boyfriend.  I am sure many more trips to The Cannon will be made to try out their breakfast menu, filled with creatively partnered waffles. After all, it is the little things. 

Taken in Hamilton, Ontario at The Cannon on Ottawa Street North in late November 2013. There is something so incredibly awesome about walking outdoors, finding a new coffee shop, escaping the snowfall and wintery chill, enjoying a delicious cappuccino and just stopping for a few moments to appreciate and enjoy the company of someone you truly adore and respect, in this case (and his hand makes a guest appearance in the photo), my best friend and boyfriend.  I am sure many more trips to The Cannon will be made to try out their breakfast menu, filled with creatively partnered waffles. After all, it is the little things. 

Taken on St. Pete’s Beach, Florida. It was a lovely, calming way to celebrate the close of Christmas 2013 with my mother. I am always amazed by the power of a sunrise or a sunset to instill feelings of hope, reflection, and inner-peace, gratitude, new-beginnings, happy endings, joy. This particular sunset, for me, marked the first Christmas season without my father, and although it continues to be a challenge learning to adapt to his absence, I was reminded that his spirit and memory will continue to be a part of me, and for that I am always thankful.

Taken on St. Pete’s Beach, Florida. It was a lovely, calming way to celebrate the close of Christmas 2013 with my mother. I am always amazed by the power of a sunrise or a sunset to instill feelings of hope, reflection, and inner-peace, gratitude, new-beginnings, happy endings, joy. This particular sunset, for me, marked the first Christmas season without my father, and although it continues to be a challenge learning to adapt to his absence, I was reminded that his spirit and memory will continue to be a part of me, and for that I am always thankful.