Hi Everyone!

I just called my dearest friend of thirty something years. We have been through it all and the test of time has proven that it is a real, honest to goodness friendship. I called her this morning and said "Merry Christmas, dear Judy." I instantly felt bad when I heard her heavy voice say "Oh, Merry Christmas, Julieann." Immediately I said "I am so sorry I said that trite greeting. Please forgive me." She said that's all right. Judy just lost her oldest son, Greg, just before Thanksgiving. I was in Colorado on a week long photo shoot when she called and told me this horrible event. She found him dead at his computer. He was 40 years old. They are still doing an inquiry into his death but it doesn't matter. He is gone. Judy is suffering the worst agony a parent can experience. I can't take it from her.

 I have a hard time titling my blog "Merry Christmas!" because there are so many out there who are having a day of red red pain. Many of us have had those kinds of Christmas's and it seems as if the world outside is all happy. Sometimes, time heals and helps. Sometimes it never does. In my case, time has really helped. This is the first Christmas in a long time, I have felt a deep peace and joy throughout the month and especially today, Christmas 2008. This didn't come by chance either. I will explain at another time.

Christmas 2008...it is what it is and I am doing my part in putting some pictures up of the world I live in and see, that might warm your heart in a special way.

                                    always...Julieann...always

This is the world I live in. It's for real. I look outside my bedroom window and I see the barn ...

and it just takes a few minutes to walk up there. There are all these sweet animals up there and the amazing thing is they love each other. In my fantasy, I have always wanted to live a life like the painting John Hicks did "The Peaceable Kingdom." Where the lion lies with the sheep and so forth.

I call mine  "The Juiceable Kingdom" because it all seems to blend so well. I bring people out here who are sad or need something special to happen and they pet all these little animals and they become like children. I hope by sharing them, you will feel like a child as well.

One morning in October, I had the coffee brewing and I walked over to the kitchen window as I always do. I saw something was very different in the paddock behind my cottage. I tried to make out what it was and I suddenly realized there were about sixty large pumpkins laying all over the place. I smiled as a little girl because it felt like the "Pumpkin Fairy" had visited me. It turned out the man that owns the farm was going to sell pumpkins this year. All month I enjoyed this wonderful scene. My grandchildren were elated and said "Our Nina has almost 100 pumpkins growing in her backyard!" I am sure their little friends hardly believe any of their stories but they are all true. Can you imagine how cool this was for me and then to see the little animals around them. sigh

Hi Space Friends!

It seems like FOREVER since I shared my life with you. I have truly missed you. Thanks for leaving me your loving notes.

I made some personal decisions, followed my heart and listened to my inner voice. These decisions have effected my life in positive ways. I stopped blogging in order to see if staying off the computer screen would help heal my eyes, if that were possible.  I could not stay completely away from the computer because I am a professional photographer and have no choice. I NOW have a part time assistant, Dan, and he is a huge help. I also have some personal friends who have brain tumors and other trials and I concentrated on helping and encouraging them.

When my vision was the worst, I was wearing high powered glasses and they helped sometimes. I panicked without them. I am "light blind" which means "lights" hurt my eyes and I wear sunglasses most of the time. More people who are blind are "light Blind" then seeing dark.

I was very discouraged because this limited my life and took away the independence I have fought so hard for all my life. I wanted to jump in a car and drive anywhere at anytime I wanted. I went to a friend of mine who is part Cherokee Indian and a natural healer and I asked her if there was anything I could do to bring energy and healing to my eyes. I told her that the pressure wasn't coming back and the doctor was puzzled to why this was. She said that I needed to do two things.

1. Take the powerful glasses off and allow my eyes to heal on their own. That made sense, so I took them off even though it put me back a little. 

2. She told me to dance as often as I could and I have done that. I dance alone in the cottage, in the fields and am now taking my second course in ballroom dancing. YEAH!! They dim the dance floor just for me so it doesn't hurt my eyes.

Pics of a client

My The Third Eye and the Pineal Gland is very powerful and it feels the picture. A fact from a pro...feeling is more important than clarity in photography and that applies to other things in life. If the photographer feels, the feeling embeds in the image.

My focus would change from day to day, according to how long I was in bright light, on the computer, how many pictures I took, if I cried hard...lots of circumstances. Each day unexpected. Very frustrating and at times I would want to scream. Deep inside I felt I had been given a gift of knowledge and I have been given a chance to share it with the world and give hope, so I kept on and kept on and I never considered quitting even though a few "friends" encouraged me to do so and to find another profession. I got rid of those "friends" quickly. My life expanded with that action.

My vision has improved to the degree that I am able to drive safely at certain times with very special sunglasses that were specifically made for me. This is HUGE. My gratitude can fill oceans.

There is so much more I want to share but it will be too long. I am glad to be back. I can't wait to catch up with you, space friends and share once again our sorrows, joys and triumphs and pictures of the people and things we  value . 

with love,

Julieann

Guess what? I got a dog! His name is Foxy.

I have been waiting years for another little friend. I will put pictures up of him and his first day on the farm when to my shock, some of the horses attacked poor Foxy. I have never seen this before. I will add them to the blog later after I have rested my eyes.

Hi Everyone!

Someone asked me at a dinner party about a month ago, "Juicy, have you always been so wild?" The woman was close to seventy and was a very respected horse trainer. Everyone at the table, about 12, stopped talking when she asked this. I looked at everyone and said, "Do you all think I am wild?" They all nodded their heads yes and one said "Hell yes!" I asked the woman what she meant by "wild."

She said "So passinate...so alive...so energetic...so affectionate." I laughed because I almost took this as an insult thinking she meant slutty or something negative and realized she meant it in a positive way. I told everyone that I didn't think of myself as being wild but I did think most people are kinda dried up, boring and that they sold themselves out somewhere along the way. Everyone agreed and it led to an interesting discussion.

I believe that because I suffer from PTSS that it has enhanced me in a way that wouldn't be there unless I had known trauma. I see things differently. I feel love more deeply, kindness, goodness and I  embrace it fully when I come upon these moments. Because I have known black despair, I see and appreciate the white moments. I am grateful to have been given another go-around...so to speak.  I think ingratitude is the unforgivable sin. I am so grateful that it has made me wild with gratitude. I hope everyone can feel this alive. Some of us have been given another chance and so let's live it wildly and dance.

By the way, I took my first dance lesson a little more than a month ago. I used to be a really good dancer in jr high and high school.  My first husband was insanely jealous and possessive. If a guy looked at me as if he thought I was attractive, my Sicilian husband would reach under his three piece pin-striped suit and pull a gun out of his holster and point it at him and threaten him because he looked at his wife "with lust." I was a Soprano wife.

Since I have been single for the last ten years, I have had several very attractive boyfriends who wanted to take me dancing. I panicked each time and I just couldn't do it. I have wanted so much to get through this barrier.

An Indian woman friend of mine told me that if I wanted to have healing in my eyes, I should dance. She said "Dance as often as you can. Your eyes will get better. I remembered this slide show I made where I took all these sea birds and put them to this song like they were line dancing and stuff. I have always liked to watch people dance and letting go. if you would like to watch it, just click  Everybody Dance Now.

I met someone who is very special.  One of the sweetest men I have ever known.. He arranged for me to have lessons and I am being taught in the dark, with no lights on. It's so much easier to dance without looking at the steps in front of you and let your body feel the music. It's good and healthy to feel senuous, to feel wild and passinate, no matter what your age. Allow yourself to be loved just because you are you. Don't settle for anything less. Dancing in the dark is as close to the stars as you can get and suddenly you start to shine and you dance on and never look back. You just have to be willing to take that first step.

I have done some other REALLY different things in my life lately. I am going to share them with you later because the computer screen hurts my eyes right now. My life style has changed and I feel something wonderful occurring within me as if I am going through a new and better passageway.

I have to leave right now. I have taken up cycling and am going with a friend down to the beautiful river and ride by it as the sun comes up. When it is dark, it is impossible for me to see so I need help and verbal instructions, like "Watch out!!! There is a wall in front of you!

I was on Tybee Island Beach and saw this couple who were very much in love. She was taking Tango lessons and was a beginner. He was really good. I asked them if they would do the Tango and dance in the sand early in the morning. when the sun is coming ip. They said "Sure! We would LOVE that!!" So they met me and I took these pictures and put them to music and gave it to them as a present. They both went to Boston University. Very much in love!!!!! I LOVE WHAT I DO!!!!!!   I do WHATEVER I WANT and I GIVE WHENEVER I CAN and I LOVE WITH ALL MY HEART...always and forever, sick or well, blind or sighted, sighted or blind.... Come and enjoy this moment I had with these two wonderful and passinate people. Sand Dancing

P.S. In my last blog, I wrote about having an "Atonement" with my ex husband. Since I wrote that, his ex wife, the one he got his 8 year marriage annulled from because she did not have a biblical divorce, called me and shared with me some things that my husband was saying and has been doing. I thought I couldn't be shocked anymore but I was.  And I learned other things that other family members have said. So all hell broke loose. No screaming on my part but a new "understanding" I have now. All I can say is Watch out when two ex-wives get together and share notes. Wish I could give you a "happily ever after " but it's life. it is what it is.

Seeing with better eyes "We can recognize that the offender 
is a valuable human being who struggles with the same needs, 
pressures, and confusions that we struggle with. We will recognize 
that the incident really may not have been about us in the first place. 
Instead it was about the wrongdoer’s misguided attempt to meet his 
or her own needs. 
As we regard offenders from this point of view 
(regardless of whether they repent and regardless of what
they have done or suffered), 
we will be in a position to forgive them.

Holmgren

It is freeing to become aware that we do not have to be victims of our past 
and can learn new ways of responding. But there is a step beyond 
this recognition... It is the step of forgiveness. Forgiveness is love 
practiced among people who love poorly. It sets us free without 
wanting anything in return.

Henry Nouwen

I have been going through a mighty struggle within myself.  I was sitting on the porch of my cottage a few mornings ago, watching the sun rise and the birds appearing one by one. It has been really hot here and so I take full advantage of the early morning coolness before the heat impregnates it.

I have been obsessed with watching the hummingbirds everyday trying to drink from their feeder with the wasps and bees taking it over. I have sat for hours with my telephoto lens, clicking hundreds of pictures of the birds and the insects trying to replenish themselves with the sugared water. I have held my breath, hoping that the little hummingbird doesn't get stung. I have asked so many people "Can a hummingbird get stung and if it does, can it die?" Seems like no one has seen it happen but they think so.

So I have been clicking picture after picture and blowing it up on my screen to see what exactly is going on. I have some really cool pictures to put up for you to see that will surprise and amaze you like they have me. I can't put them up yet because I have not converted them to small files.

What really shocked me were several dozen images of the hummingbird, the wasps and the bees all drinking at the same time. I sighed when I saw it and thought "It's about time they all got along and made peace with each other." That caused me to think "Have I made peace with those who have stung me?"  The other question that I am always asking myself is "What can I do on this earth to make my children's lifes better?"

Their father and step-father, my ex-husband and I ( the preacher) have not really spoken very much for 12 years. I have wanted the two of us to be at the children's functions, like graduating, birthdays, grand-babies being born and any of their celebrations but he hasn't agreed to this for whatever reasons. It must be too painful and bitter still. He hurt me and I hurt him.

As I saw the bird and stinging insects drinking together, I thought, "Its time. It's time for an atonement. To make peace and do the right thing."

My ex and I talked on the phone and I told him that we could leave our children a million dollars when we die but the best gift would be for them to see us together and for us to be friends." He was surprised and didn't argue with this. I guess he thought the same. He asked me why and I said "It's the right thing to do. For the children and grandchildren and for us. "

He has agreed and so TODAY we are seeing each other for the first time in ten years at our granddaughter, Chloe's 3rd birthday. I have to leave in a moment to be there on time.

They say you can learn alot of wisdom from watching the birds and the insects. I know five children and four grandchildren who will benefit from the knowledge I gleamed that morning.

It's time for an atonement. to take place. Remember, if I can do it, you can do it too.

I love you all and value your friendship and the love you leave on this space.

always...Julieann...always

There Was a Child Went Forth

Walt Whitman

Poem lyrics of There Was a Child Went Forth by Walt Whitman.

There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of
the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.
The early lilacs became part of this child,
And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and red clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird,
And the Third-month lambs, and the sow's pink-faint litter, and the mare's foal, and the cow's calf,
And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire of the pond-side,
And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there--and the beautiful curious liquid,
And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads--all became part of him.
The field-sprouts of Fourth-month and Fifth-month became part of him;
Winter-grain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow corn, and the esculent roots of the garden,
And the apple-trees cover'd with blossoms, and the fruit afterward,
and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds by the road;
And the old drunkard staggering home from the out-house of the tavern, whence he had lately risen,
And the school-mistress that pass'd on her way to the school,
And the friendly boys that pass'd--and the quarrelsome boys,
And the tidy and fresh-cheek'd girls--and the barefoot negro boy and girl,
And all the changes of city and country, wherever he went.
His own parents,
He that had father'd him, and she that had conceiv'd him in her womb, and birth'd him,
They gave this child more of themselves than that;
They gave him afterward every day--they became part of him.

P.S.  I just got back from Chloe's birthda party and my ex wasn't there. My daughter said he was sick. So what matters hear is "intention" and my children see it and each of them hugged me and assured me they knew very well my intention and they thanked me.  sigh. May the force be with me...sigh

"If you bring forth that which is within you,

Then that which is within you will be your salvation.

If you do not bring forth that which is within you,

Then that which is within you will destroy you.

__from the Gnostic Gospels

As I wrote in my last blog about the effects the rape had on me and how it effected my personal and professional life, I realized that I might not have given any concrete hope. That happened about four years ago. I can't be precise about the date because my memory won't go there. All I know is that it brought back other acts that were done to me earlier on in my life. Things I thought I had closure in. I was diagnosed with PTSD in the late 80's after an attempted suicide. Trauma has a shelf life and the longest it can sit there is about ten years. For me, it came off the shelf around the tenth year. Losing my eye-sight the last few years and the invasive eye surgeries also brought back memories of traumatic events and a feeling that I couldn't protect myself like I use to.

            

I have a profound sadness for people who suffer from PTSD. There is no shame in this. There is a world full of good people who suffer from this syndrome. Hopefully the United States Military will help our women and men who come home from risking their lives for all of us. The very least we can do is help them re-enter the world and find love and acceptance and HELP to sort out the trauma they lived in. Sometimes I feel helpless in what I can personally do. I feel by bringing attention to my own experience with living with PTSD for three decades and displaying my images that prove that one can look at life in a beautiful way again, I might be able to lend hope. This is my purpose in life. There are two links here that I would like you to take a small amount of time out of your day to look at. If our soldiers can live the real trauma than we certainly can watch something that might help them live with it.

This is the link to video of the ABC evening news report of this story:

Wounded Vets http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=3372436

Suicide of soldier http://abcnews.go.com/WNT/WoodruffReports/Story?id=3067983&page=3

Here are a few comments I found in response to these videos. If you would like to make a comment on my blog, please do. I would like to know how you feel about this.

COMMENTS

My sincere prayers go out to all the military men and women and their families. Especially those who have been wounded either physically and/or emotionally. My brother is a Vietnam veteran who served his tour of duty in Vietnam and re-enlisted twice after leaving Nam. Some years later he started to suffer from reoccurring nightmares reliving his experience in Vietnam. He was forced into retirement from the USPS, his wife left him after many years of enduring his episodes of PTSD. He has never rec'd the proper treatment during many times he has been hospitalized at VA hospital even when the hospital know he will not stay on his medication and will eventually end up back in the hospital again and again. His mind has deteriorated to the point where he will no longer take proper care of his personal appearance or care. It is shameful on the VA and our government the way our veterans are treated after serving their country, many losing limbs and their lives. We need to take better care of our men and women in uniform. My brother has suffered and is still suffering, I wouldn't wish what our family have gone through on my worst enemy. I pray each and every night for all the men and women in uniform who are still in harms way.

I HOPE ABC NEWS IS HEARING THE VOICES. I KNOW THAT BOB WOODWARD WOULD BE VERY INTERESTED IN THE VA CARE FOR PTSD. THERE IS SO MUCH THEY CAN DO TO PREVENT LIVES FROM BEING LOST OR DESTROYED. KEY WORD PREVENT!!!!!!!. I HAVE MENTION THIS OVER AND OVER. THE MILITARY MAKES IT MANDATORY FOR THESE YOUNG PEOPLE TO STAY IN AND FINISH BOOT CAMP. THEY TRANSFORM THEM INTO MARINES AND SOLDIERS. THEY OWE THEM THE SAME TIME,CARE AND COMMITMENT. WHEN THEY START TO SUFFER FROM PTSD WETHER IT BE RIGHT AWAY OR YEARS FROM DISCHARGE. THEY NEED TO GRAB THEM UP WITH OPEN ARMS AND HELP THEM GET BACK TO AS NORMAL A LIFE AS POSSIBLE. REMEMBER THEY ARE MENTALLY CHALLENGED AT THE TIME AND THEY DO NEED TO COMMIT THEM AND CARE FOR THEM JUST LIKE THEY DID IN BOOT CAMP. ONCE YOU CHECK INTO BOOT CAMP YOU HAVE TO FINISH THE PROGRAM. THE SAME GOES FOR THE MENTALLY CHALLENGED WITH PTSD. KEEP THEM,TREAT THEM. AND GIVE THEM BACK THE LIFE THEY SO DESERVE. THEY PUT THEIR LIFE ON THE LINE FOR ALL OF US. I WILL CONTINUE TO PRAY FOR ALL MILITARY AND THEIR FAMILIES

My heart breaks for the #### family. It brings up my own demons that I have had to endure for the last 28 years. I am a female Viet-Nam era veteran. I was too young to see combat, but the other atrocities that can be visited upon one leaves me with my own scars. And just think, when I ets the first time, there were no services for female veterans at the v.a. hospitals. So I know what it is like to fall through the cracks. My whole life went by the wayside until 1990 when the experiences took me all the way down. I not only suffered, but, my children suffered as well. Nothing has been or ever will be right in my life because of the lack of care and concern for all of us who suffer from their military experiences.

We can not imagine what the soldiers over there are seeing...their friends being killed in the most gruesome ways, vehicles being blown up, constantly hearing bombs going off, wondering, "is today my day, am I going to live through today?" I know that the soldiers want to appear tough and that they can handle it, and going to see a mental health provider may appear as a sign of weakness but I think it's the military duty to protect these soldiers. Mental heath classes and appts should be mandatory. Going through that, for an extended period of time has to affect people, there is no way it can't affect you. Handing out a "mental health questionnaire" asking if you are suicidal just won't cut it. They need to talk to people whether they request it or not.

My heart goes out to his family and I hope he may rest in peace. I feel this is just another case of PTSD that is not being addressed!!!! There are thousands of men and women who have served and who are now serving that are suffering from this. If someone did research on this they would find hundreds that have committed suicide in Iraq and back at home. They also are suffering from drug abuse and criminal activity. The VA's answer to the problem is when they are ready to get help they will. The problem is they are not in their right minds to know they desperately need the help. I hope the media will not let this story die. There are too many young people they need help and are not getting it! They deserve the best of care. Please keep this and all the PTSD stories alive. It should be on the news every week and maybe something's will changed and lives will be saved. I pray for all families and there sons and daughters who are putting their life on the line everyday. PLEASE HELP THEM!

They need to talk to somebody who will listen and give them the help they need.

always...Julieann...always

“Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or years, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.” Lance Arnstrong

Let's help others not quit. I wanted to quit several times but was so fortunate to have others care enough about me to help me stand and now I am back in the dance.

When I took these pictures of this woman dancing, I was just recovering from my eight or ninth Glaucoma eye surgery.  Everything was blurry. I had to be guided through this private jazz festival I had been invited to. Several were surprised I brought my camera. I could feel this woman's passion and liberation across the crowd. I felt her freedom and I just clicked the camera in sync with her as if I were dancing with her. I remember laughing as I captured her energy. Experientially, one does not have to see to feel. The power of feeling is more powerful than sight.

I say this in hope that if you find you are lacking empathy for others who have been the victims of war and violent acts...just close your eyes and put yourself in their situation and think about how you would want to be treated...if you lived of course.  NO ONE IS EXEMPT OF TRAUMA. If you know someone who has been traumatized, call them and check on them. Kindness can warm a bitter winter in another's soul. I know. I am grateful for all the kind acts that helped me so I can help others. And so it goes.....

                              "Life is a painting of cherries."

Hmmmm.....I know...strange quote but then it's me, you guys. I know that "Life is a bowl of cherries" is a feel good statement and it's a trite statement to make. Tell a mother who just buried her child that and you would break her heart in a thousand more pieces or you would get punched in the face.  My adopted daughter, Yedessa, just gave birth to her first child and buried that child in a cemetery in Yemen this past month. I haven't blogged for a while because I have been spending most of my time trying to comfort my sweet daughter. She has been in red red pain and just yesterday, I heard her laugh for the first time. There is not a piece of music that would make me happier than hearing her laugh. Please keep my angel in your prayers and light many white candles for her.

The one thing that we can do is paint some cherries on a canvas when times are tough. I think red cherries are yummy and when I was a little girl, my father always gave me the cherry from his drink. I felt loved. Red is my favorite color too. I had the best Mother's Day this year. All five of my children and my four grandchildren, came out to the farm. My four daughters are amazing cooks and they brought delicious food and we all sat around the fire pit and ate and loved each other. My children are very affectionate with each other and with me. There was the usual political debates and then trying to talk one of the girls from having a boob job. I recorded the whole thing on video and if they aren't nice to me, I will put it on my blog. LOL! They probably wouldn't mind because they are so open about their life's. They all gave me wonderful gifts. My son Ryan, who is an accomplished painter,  painted a portrait of me when I was a little girl living in Casablanca, Africa.

That's me in Fatna's arms and my mother and brother on the other side of the sign. I think my skills as a photographer in capturing a person's spirit come from having to read Fatna's eyes through her veils. Their are no languages needed when you look deep into the eyes.

My brother and I pretended we had robes on like Fatna, who wrapped us in towels.

This is the painting my son gave me. It's pretty big. I was elated.  Something wonderful happened to me during the years I lived in Africa. Africa is my spiritual continent. I have an incredible burden for Africa and would like to go back one day.

Back to the story behind my painting. When my son,  called me more than a month ago and said "Mom. Today, you are going to paint your first painting and I am going to give you instructions. So let's spend the day at my house and we will sit on the back deck, under the big tree, listen to some beautiful classical music while we paint." I was so excited. I have been wanting to start painting for years but my photography over-powered it. My cottage is small and it's hard enough keeping my computers and the hundreds and hundreds of pictures and disks organized without me having canvases and paint splattered all over the place. 

Ryan asked me what I wanted to paint and I said "Three cherries" and he said that was unusual but than I wasn't your typical ordinary mother either and so he didn't question it. It was a great day and I have this painting hung in my cottage now. So this is my first official painting and I wanted to share it with all of you. TA DA!!!!

I have more to write but this is all I can do right now. Have to rest my eyes.  Will try to catch up this week-end.

I LOVE AND MISS YOU!!!! Don't forget special prayers for my precious Yedessa.

Always…Julieann…always

Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart.
Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.
Carl Jung

This past week I went to another eye doctor for extensive tests to get a second opinion. The pressure in my eyes had reached a five which is the highest it's been since the eye surgeries and the tests showed that the left one had dropped down to a one. My heart sank. One of the tests was very painful and I broke down. I felt tramatized and didn't sleep for two nights. I thought some riding would strengthen me and it did. I rode one day by myself and another day with a friend. I have rolled up my sleeves and concentrated on getting the cottage totally clean and organized this past month. I have thrown about a dozen boxes out just getting rid of stuff. My mind thinks very clear when I clean. I am proud to say my cottage is polished and gleaming and so is my mind. Getting rid of "stuff " has been very healing.

 I spent time with each of my children and one night we all got together to celebrate my grandson, Austin’s 12th birthday at Kim’s house. All of us were together with several new boyfriends, girlfriends and friends. We all played a game where you try to match the emotion to a word. We are very competitive, loud and expressive. The room wasn’t quiet. It was alive.

 One beautiful afternoon, my daughter Kim came out with Julian, four, and Chloe, two. We went to see the baby horse and mommy and went down to the creek to pet the horses and sat in the hay bale while they munched the hay. It was one of those perfect days.

 This past week, I went out to dinner and with a dear friend and two fun people. We laughed and drank in the beauty of the Cirque Du Soleil musical “Corteo.” I felt loved and joy that night.

 I don't believe Love is the greatest emotion. I believe it is relief.  When one is in great physical pain and an injection is given that takes away in seconds, that all encompassing pain…I would say that is powerful.  It’s exactly the same with emotional pain. When one is suffering, the greatest three words in the world… I love you. Instant relief. Especially when you just emotionally vomited all over them. I love you. Relief.  Three words that can immediately break through the damned up red red pain and into the river of white white hope.

 It doesn’t matter if you are 21 years old or a 99-year-old woman. Feelings don’t change because our bodies do. Change in our bodies isn’t a bad thing, either. I can honestly tell you that I love my 56-year-old body now than when I was 18. I think it has grown more beautiful each year of my life. I am not worried in the least how it will look in my 70 ^th year. Even if some body parts are missing, like a limb off a tree.

As a professional photographer, I have taken 10,000 pictures of trees. I am in complete awe each time I see one. Why would I not take a picture of something that is drawing my inner being? The awe is coming through me towards the tree. It's as beautiful as a thoroughbred horse, a champion dog, a mansion, or a glacier. I look at nakedness the same way. I am in awe of the human body that holds a universe of beautiful spirits. It was formed from the same power that made the moon and trees. I experience more awe when I encounter a unashamed naked soul. They are not afraid of what might be seen.

 There’s a reason some of you like my images. It’s not that the tree or person was particularly beautiful.  I look at everything and everybody as a completely unique creation. My eyes might not have the vision that is needed to be totally independent but they spot magnificence like a lazar beam. Magnificence is photographable. It is impossible to manifest it. The difference between two highly skilled photographers photographing the same tree is huge. One has darkness inside of them when they take the picture. They have greed, jealousy, guilt and hate in them. They have not corrected their mistakes as closely as they do their balance in the bank.

 On the other hand, the other photographer cannot photograph anything unless their soul is right. That’s the difference in what the image gives back to you when you look at it. I have a ritual every night when I reach up and shut the light out.  I examine my day and the way I responded to it and the people I encountered. If I didn’t treat them the way I want them to trust me, then it would immediately come up and I will toss all night and make all efforts to make restitution the next day.  I cannot start a new day without an internal shower the night before. I want to feel clean and fresh, both spiritually and physically. My inner is far more important than my outer. 

 We have the same desires we had when we were young and that is “I hope one day that I will meet someone who loves me like I am.”  Every person in the world wishes that, don’t you think ?  You might be 100 lbs overweight and have gobs of wrinkles and yet, he or she finds you the most beautiful person in the world. They show it by their actions. This is called a man or woman of substance. The substance comes from within.

 If you have a man or woman like that…never ever apologize about your body and emotions again. Embrace them and be grateful for this is rare.  They see beyond the surface to the ageless and the formless being. They bow at your divineness and they worship it. Millions of people in the world now are having lazar corrected vision so they will see better and look better without glasses. It’s a risk they are willing to take. There's always a chance of losing their sight. It seems ironic to me that they don’t have the courage to correct their inner vision by looking into their dark places. They are satisfied with artificial lighting because they are scared their own light isn’t bright enough. Beware; they will try to steal your light and they love to leave you in the dark.

 As a single woman who has lived half of a century and six years, and has fought for my freedom and won, I am going to tell you something straight up. The same thing I tell my four daughters and son. Never settle for anything less then adoration and admiration from your man or woman. More importantly, look at yourself with awe. Work on being the kind of person you adore.

 Sometimes when I am photographing a family or some awkward teens and everyone is a little tense, I will peek over the lens and say “Don’t you guys think I am adorable?” I catch them off guard and my fingers start clicking. I have captured the wonderful response in their smiles. They do think I am adorable because I am. You can see it in my children’s eyes from the photographs I just took. An adorable person is someone who sees ewith reverence and it shows in his or her expression. My children are comfortable with me because they trust me.  I adore them and they feel it and they blossom right in front of the lens.  

 I am a student of expression and know a true one when I see it. By example, my life screams, that expression of emotions is beautiful and acceptable. No expression makes a dry and dead person. They only express themselves when it benefits them.  Express yourself beautifully and nothing less than that is my motto. A friend of mind described me to someone else and said “She is Swedish looking but she has an Italian personality.” My kids are like that and all four of my grandchildren. My fourteen year old granddaughter, Alexia, is off the charts. Incredible expression. They have lots of juice. I like people with juice too. I feel refreshed when I am with them. Pure concentrated juice.

 I think that working on your inner spirit and getting it all scrubbed up, leaves you feeling fresh and clean. Those around you will feel it. It is more important than your home. You will know when it is clean. You will feel a beautiful breeze sweep throughout your soul.  Open your windows and let the darkness out. Keep the innocence in. Make restitution with others and yourself. Get it out of the house and transform it into a temple. When this occurs , people will hear your bells toll.

All my life, I have been obsessed with reading and observing power. I have devoted my life to capturing on film " POWER" in all its forms. The power of LOVE and the power of EVIL, which is really HATE. I am driven to figure out the evil mind and how it grows or where it is birthed. Can’t tell you how many books I have read on the childhoods of what the world considers the most evil minds in history who have sold out for the power that corrupts the human condition. A corrupted mind is far worst than a corrupted computer because it causes suffering in innocent people.

 I have studied the Holocaust for thirty something years. I had a hard time comprehending it. I will never really understand it completely. As the years go by, I am sad to say, that I am beginning to now. As I read the stories and looked at the pictures, I felt sickened with grief for these innocent people, as they stood naked on the edge of the pits or were herded into the gas chambers. Mothers naked in front of their children and in front of their parents. Daughters in front of their grandfathers, fathers, friends and the neighbors they played with in their safe neighborhoods. It was very difficult for me to strip in gym class in Junior High and High school, let alone to in front of my family and community. Can you only imagine? Think about it. We owe that to them. Try to feel what they must have felt. Learn something from it and quit complaining about your life. I catch myself all the time.

 For three decades, I have watched and studied the films and images over and over. There was something beautiful in them. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was there, like a drop of dew that stands out in the morning darkness.  As appalling as the nakedness and shame was, there was beauty in their nakedness.

 I believe they didn’t see each other naked as our eyes would, as an observer. Their eyes saw royal robes of nobleness and crowns of dignity clothed on their loved ones. They were connected by LOVE.  Their souls were stitched together. A quilt that covered the nakedness and covered every one of them. No matter what there peril was, they were united as their eyes told one another, “I love you.” Three words that can relieve pain. The last words I said to my mother as my mother's eyes said them back to me "I love you Julie" before she took the big breath into the next world, just as a she did as a newborn, sixty-nine years before when she entered this world. Why do people have such a hard time saying these words outloud or with their eyes? Why do that hold back something that gives relief ? The people who hold back will never hear the bells toll. They just don't get it because they just don't care. Stay far far away from these people. Do not take it personally. It is not about you. It is about them. Cowards who think their time won't come when they need immediate relief. In the end, they have lived for naught. They might have well been born a bowl of jello.

I feel the love and use my eyes to say I love you.  I say it outloud and often. I see and feel the relief in their souls.  It makes such a difference to the cold naked people out there in pain. When I take a picture of a tree or person,  the words "I love you" is embedded in the image. I hope you all can see and feel this. I see the love and kind words you leave on my space and in my darkess hour, I feel relief.  You have made a difference in my life too, my dear space friends. I want you to feel it and know that I love you very much. Do not suffer alone. Come here and feel the love. Most of these images I take just for you in hope that if your hour is dark, you will leave feeling that beautiful and healing emotion of relief.

always...Julieann...always

“Live this day as if it will be your last. Remember that you will only find ''tomorrow'' on the calendars of fools. Forget yesterday's defeats and ignore the problems of tomorrow. This is it. Doomsday. All you have. Make it the best day of your year. The saddest words you can ever utter are, ''If I had my life to live over again. ''Take the baton, now. Run with it! This is your day! Beginning today, treat everyone you meet, friend or foe, loved one or stranger, as if they were going to be dead at midnight. Extend to each person, no matter how trivial the contact, all the care and kindness and understanding and love that you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.” Og Mandino

When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall - Think of it, always.
Mahatma Gandhi

Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth,

that around every circle another can be drawn;

that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning;

that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon,

and under every deep a lower deep opens.

 Ralph Waldo Emerson

"To be radical is not to be insane,

it's to go to our roots.

This is my ex-boyfriend, Manning. He was an exceptional carpenter, an author of a published book on working with wood and served our country as an air traffic controller during the Vietnam war. He hid all his medals. He understood me and I can honestly say, his mind was beautiful.

He was an amazing artist and his carpentry was something to behold. He could pick up ANYTHING and make art out of it.  He said the same thing about me after he saw my cottage, my pictures and the words I write on the walls. We were deeply connected. He was the first man I met after the rape that put me down for a year. He was the first man who I trusted again. He was gentle and kind and I was in good hands with Manning. He helped me heal and to trust again.

Early one morning, I noticed him looking out my cottage window. He saw nature and the world the way I do. His eyes were stunningly clear and blue...full of kindness and wisdom. I picked my camera up slowly and clicked a few times. He asked me why I was taking his picture? I told him he looked like a mixture of Jesus and a wild John the Baptist.  He laughed and said, "No baby, I am far from being Jesus. But if I were, I would tell this planet a few things.

I always listened with my ears fully open when Manning said ANYTHING. He wasn't a man of many words and when he did say something, it was with few words and rich with TRUTH.  He lived an honest life. He never broke his word to me or to anyone. He was incapable of it. He raised his two little boys, in a little cabin he had built with his own hands and purposely left electricity out. He washed them in a big tub in front of an open fireplace each night and read to them by keresene lanterns. He did not want to raise them in the trappings of this world that corrupt our young ones minds. Since they were babies, he took them to all his jobs and they helped him with their little hands, with the hammer and nails. They had their own little tool boxes.

They are grown now and I really don't know of two finer young men. I was the first woman he dated after more than a decade of finishing raising his boys. He said he didn't want to confuse them with the wrong kind of woman and wanted to give them ALL his concentration and ALL his love. I was honored to be the woman he wanted to be intimate and trusting with.  He told me I had the GIFT and to never give up...NEVER. His sons loved me too and they confided in me. Both of them told me that their father was their hero. They said he never compromised who he was, even if it made his life harder. Because of his integrity, I listened when he said something. "What would you say, Manning, if you were Jesus?" I curiously asked.

"Don't do to others what you don't want them to do to you.  Treat every woman the way you would want your mother and sister to be treated. Be nice and TRY to get along with each other when you use my name. BE NICE!!!!"   I hugged him and said "How true. How true."

 I have a friend, Carmin, who is elderly and had a bad fall this past week. I have been with her and spending lots of time talking to her on the phone. I met her last March, as she was taking her little 13 year old poodle for a walk down the street. where Kirven lives. She always seemed sad and somehow I knew she was suffering. I waved to her with my sunglasses on. I had just had my second big eye operation and could not handle the light. She would wave and quickly walk away. I couldn't see her clearly but I saw that her blurred image was stooped.

One day, I walked out and called for her to stop. I introduced myself and she tried to smile but tears were streaming down her face. I asked her what was wrong and she burst into tears. I reached out and embraced her and held her as she sobbed on my shoulder. "Tell me why you are crying" I asked her. She first apologised for running from me and explained she was crying and embarrassed for me to see her. I told her I couldn't see clearly because I had lost my vision. She burst into tears again and said her beloved husband, Michael, who was her life, had died of lung cancer a year ago.  She doesn't want to live without him and is angry he left her. She is having a very difficult time living without him. She told me yesterday, over a sandwich, that she slept on Christmas night, with her arms wrapped around the urn where his ashes lay. I understand. I really do.

I am devoted to her and want to help carry her pain as she is in this transition that I have been several times in my life. Mostly, I listen to her as she pours fouth her memories of her husband, her parents and sister, who passed away and her present realities. I listen because that is what she needs the most. I have found a sincere ear, of a caring person, can change a persons life forever. Just like Manning listening to me, about my rape, by his open fireplace with that Jesus face.

I told Carmin I wanted her to live for me. I need her. I do. She knows that I am sincere, when I say these words. She is Spanish and she apologises for her English. I understand every word she says. She told me that her whole family lives all over the world and that she told all of them about her friend "Juicy" and sent all of them the pictures I insisted on taking of her two months ago, even though she protested, saying she was too old.

I laughed and told her to trust me when I say she's beautiful. Trust me. When I showed her the pictures, she screamed with glee and said "Juicy!!! What did you do to these pictures of me?! I look BEAUTIFUL, Juicy. You are a magician, Juicy! Never have I loved a picture of me in my life like I do these! I am sending them to all my family at Christmas as presents." I tell her, "Carmin, I told you that you were beautiful. didn't I? Now you can see for yourself." She kissed me all over my face, dozens of times, saying "I love you Juicy. I love you, Juicy."   

The message I wanted to leave this coming year, to put it simple, as Manning did, is to tend to your flock, take good care of them and keep an eye out for the lost sheep, like Carmin. Feed and warm them with your loving hands and heart. Give generously to these lambs with souls and quit judging the "black sheep" because they are different. Take the bleeping log out of your own eye, so you can see what I see. There is beauty in EVERYONE... including yourself. There is NO excuse for anyone to be cold, naked, hungry, afraid, shunned or lost. All that is needed is within your reach and sometimes it's just a matter of giving your time and efforts to lead them back to the green pasture, where there is plenty for everyone. This is the message of the sheep.

When I look back on my life, a half century and six years, I realize that I learned most of my truth in the dark. In the pitch black of night. I see things in the dark that others might not see. What my mind sees and my eyes see can be in conflict. Sometimes I see dark forms and for a second, I think they are the monsters that visit me at night. Monsters who rob little girl’s sweet dreams. Monsters who whisper that you are not really here. It’s just an illusion. You are really in the past where you lived in the village of the monsters. They monsters who terrorized you and told you that if you ever left them, they would hunt you down and kill you. You can never get away from us they chanted night and day. Never. If you physically escape, we will find you and you will know we are there because we have a part of your mind and in your mind, we breed and multiply and set up another kind of village that is worst then the one you escaped from. You will never escape us.

 One day I decided to leave. All odds were against me. It was the only way I would ever live an authentic life. An artificial life was death. Might look beautiful. Might look real but like an artificial tree placed in the middle of a beautiful forest, it never grows. That’s how you can tell. It doesn’t grow and it doesn’t bloom. That is death. Two choices I had to make. Life or death. Freedom or permanent imprisonment in an artificial forest.

 I took my children and left the village in the black of the night and we slithered on our stomachs for miles until we knew it was safe to stand and then to run. I never told them there was anything to be afraid of because I was their mother and no one would ever ever hurt them. I would always protect them. I told them we were running to something beautiful and I made it fun. We never looked back. That was the job that was assigned to me before the foundations of the world and I would complete that assignment with my entire being.

 I never told them I would give up my life in a second for them. I never let on that they would ever lose the one person in the world who would love them the way I can love. I made it seem like a game and we laughed and I held them, sang to them and kissed their sweet little faces until I saw that sweet innocent smile in sleep. Their minds I protected more than their physical selves because it was their minds where the monsters wanted in. Fear is the name of this village of monsters. I taught them if they ever felt they saw a monster, there was a trick to make them disappear. All you had to do was say “Boo!” to the monsters and they disappeared. They vanish because they can’t exist in courage and confrontation. Just say BOO! And they leave.

 I am an escapee. There are a few others out there who are too. We seek better worlds and we keep on and keep on until we die. . Only a few ever really escape. We don’t blame the ones who dropped out and hid the rest of their lives.  Many went back to the village of the monsters of who feast and sustain themselves on fear. The doctrines they teach are really lies. They cannot digest truth get very very sick and die.  They know this and so they make their lies look like the truth. Like artificial vegetables.

 It is true that they have been planted in your mind. It is true they never leave. The truth is they are harmless. They only breathe if you give them power. The power of fear. For thirty-eight years they have disturbed my sleep. My screams wake me up and I wake up in a sweat. My heart is pounding outside my chest and I yell for my "Mommy!" I want to run to her safety but she isn't there. I practice saying a loud “Boo!” and a loud “Leave me!” They do. Sometimes you have to say it several times. It works most of the time. In that moment I realize that I am in the now.

 The truth is that I am alive. I feel my body and sweep my hands through my hair and feel my face and I know that I exist and I am the breath. I breathe deep and blow it slowly out and I give thanks for that breath. Thanks that I did escape. My being means I love myself enough to have the courage to live. Not to exist but to live and have as many moments of beauty as I chose.

 It is my mind that gathers the flowers. It is my mind that looks for beauty. It is my mind that is the church. It is my mind where I dailey sweep out the dirt of greed or bitterness. Many women are prideful and arrogant and flaunt the fact that their homes are immaculate and spotless. That’s the most important thing to them. How their outer bodies and homes look. I have photographed many women and very few say, “Capture my spirit. Capture my love. Capture my age and pride of it. Capture my passion and gratitude.” All they say is “Make me look good” instead of capture my goodness. This is a tragedy that saddens me and disturbs me. I pray my four daughters will never cross the line in what is important in this life.

 I only care what my mind looks like. I have to live in it and I can honestly say it is clean. It is fresh. There is no dirt here. It is a constant job but has many rewards. At least to me. I can sleep with that innocent smile on my face like the one I made sure I saw on my five children’s face before I softly left their rooms. The smile comes from the two questions I ask myself before I close my eyes. These are MY important questions. 

Have I loved this day with everything I that I am capable of giving? Have I told the truth to others and to myself in all its totality? The smile appears when I answer a gentle and honest  “yes.”

 Truth and love is my power. In the black of night I know the truth and the truth has set me free. All knowledge is given me then. If you don’t have love, you have nothing. Nothing. All knowledge comes down to this. Love others, as you desire to be loved. This is the truth I have discovered in the dark.

 That’s why I wake up early when it is still dark and slip out of the bed. I can’t believe I have been given another day of life. Another day!!!! I anticipate the sun and I greet it in the morning with my arms wide open. I embrace that moment with immense gratitude, as a mother, who sees her soldier son coming down the road to the safety of her arms. She sees the truth. Life.

 Don't be discouraged if these monsters visit you too. Try saying "Boo!" and if that doesn't help, visualize me screaming it and holding a sword to it's head so you can sleep until you have that sleepy smile. Use your mind and ask your own question and live each day so you can say "yes" to your question. No one can take your mind. It belongs to you and you alone. Keep it clean and shiny.

 I love you guys. I hope that you are being gentle to yourself at this difficult time of year for so many. Who cares about presents. It's your presense that is the gift.

Thank you for leaving all these gifts of love in my space. Best Christmas I have had in many years because of you. I see you in the dark. You are my Christmas lights this year. Keep shining. You are so beautiful to me. 

I want to be honest about my life right now and to bring you out of the dark about a couple things with me. I am going to tell you what really is going on. The black and white version.

 My eyes have taken a turn for the worst. I feel knocked down. I keep trying to stand but I fall a lot. Reality has many shadows, according to how the sun hits it. My eyes were going to get better. Just a little bit longer and I would independent once again to live the life I thought I deserved. I have worked so hard these past ten years to be free to see all the things I had waited for my whole life. Never did I think I would have fences put around me again  and restrictions and barriers.

 A year has passed since I had the two gigantic operations that took me out of the light and into the dark and shadows. I was afraid of the dark and the Light was my saving grace, especially with PTSD. Every time I am in the light, I pay a price for hours later. I can't see and my eyes hurt. I can't swim or read books. I used to read at least three books a week. Trying to read a book makes me nauseated. I become very disoriented.

 Eight surgeries in five years. Fighting like a soldier to keep my sight. Bartering with docs, going to clinics, and going almost two years without having an eye doctor because I had lost my health insurance. My skilled doctor/friend, Dr. Joseph Manno had retired and moved to South Carolina.

 The day he told me he was retiring, was very mixed for me. I was terrified because he promised he wouldn't let me go blind. Then I was happy for him because he had definitely earned an early retirement. I didn't know another doctor who would barter with   pictures. Thank God Joe, who collects original masterpieces, thought I shoot paintings instead of  photographs. That's what he said. Joe knew his art and was very picky and for him to admire my work was such a compliment.

He was the Master of the Hunt and I ran my ass off to pay for my eye treatments, drops and surgeries. Joe said I didn't have to do that but he admired me because he knew my integrity. I am not a taker in any way. I am a giver and love giving. He has impeccable integrity and he tells me straight up about everything. He's really cool the way he does it too. I talked to him this past week and told him what is going on with my eyes because I was started to wonder if they will get better and not worse.

 I have had to stay in dark places this whole year. I did not chose these places. They were my only options. Each place has it's problems.

I pay a price for being in the light. More lost of sight. I can only compare it to if you have ever been pulled over for speeding at night and how harsh it is when the policeman shines the bright light in your eyes and you put your hands up to protect them. Of course this has never happened to me because I am a very responsible driver all my life. If you believe that than I have some swamp land to sell you.

 I desperately need the light for my soul. I have had to accept this reality in tiny little bites. I didn't even have room in my mind that it could get worse or stay like this. I am a born optimist. There is always hope. Always. Then your mother dies. sigh

 Recently, a dear human being gave me the most incredible gift. I was at my cottage a couple of weeks ago, on the farm. Fall was still beautiful and I wanted to film and photograph it so I spent a week there.

 I wake up every morning at 5:00 a.m. and the first thing I do, after I start the coffee pot, is go to the back door and step out to see what kind of sunrise it will be. My instincts are really good because I have studied nature and weather for years and years. A good professional photographer needs to know the elements well to be prepared.

I have been doing this for almost nine years now, since I made the decision to move from the city to the country to find some of the answers about life and about my past and to make peace with it.   I want to capture the essence of what it is like to live in the middle of nature for those who have never experienced it, to give them the experience. Nature is the teacher of all things, I have found out. If you want to gather the knowledge of all understanding, study nature.

 There is a slight hill with an amazing tree. I have thousands and thousands of images of it in all kinds of weather and lighting.

 This particular morning, I saw pink and blue breaking forth and I quickly got my Nikon and got a ladder back chair and pulled it on the small back deck with the steep 6 stairs and no railing. I pride myself on my balance so I didn't hesitate to step up on the ladder like I always do to shoot the hill. I was so excited because there was a horse silhouetted against the sky. My dream picture I have been waiting for.

 I took two shots (it was still dark but the sun was coming from over the hill) and suddenly the chair moved (I must have had it very close to the edge and didn't know it) and suddenly, I was like Alice in Wonderland falling down a dark hole. It was a bad fall. I went down about five feet and found myself crumbled up on the ground. Pain shot out from my knee and left shoulder. My head hit something. It was very dark and I couldn't see anything. Thankfully, I didn't have my glasses on. They would have broken and then I would be in thick blur all the time. I have three special glasses that I wear all day just to get through on somewhat of a normal day.

Immediately, I started groping on the ground as a mother who had just dropped her baby in a dark lake, trying to find my camera.   I know that sounds dramatic but I am spiritually connected to my cameras and my lens. I cannot trade in old cameras or give them away because they are my friends and have done so much for me since the day I turned pro. They have covered my ass so many times, I can't even tell you. I have saved every penny I have and done without for almost a decade to do what my purpose here on earth is. To bring forth that which has been forgotten and to make it fresh again.

There was no way I could protect it like I have done with other falls. As you know, I take my cameras on the back of horses and climb trees and wade through freezing creeks with it. You have no idea the places I shoot from. Even standing in the ocean up to my waist. That's why I love Nikons, they are so durable and I would have nothing else. They have held up for me for many years and are my best friends.

Back to the fall…

My hands felt around the ground on my stomach and my right hand found the camera. The 200mm Nikon lens, which is my favorite, had broken off the camera and it took me about a minute to find the lens. I knew it was bad. I got up and crawled up the stairs, came into the cottage, turned on the light and to my horror, my camera and lens was totally broken off. I almost screamed but I didn't have time for it. I had to get the picture.

So I grabbed my Canon GL, which I use for filming and sometimes I take pictures with it but the pixels aren't very large, went back on the porch with another chair, made sure it wasn't near the edge and took about 20 pictures. I ALWAYS get the picture. I know that sounds cocky…but I do. I felt I captured the awe and could share it with  others. Something beautiful was on that hill that morning.

 I then sat curled on my plump sofa for hours with my damaged camera in my hands and wept and wept. I have no insurance and no one has been hiring me.   I could not pay for it to be fixed, if that was possible even. Tremendous loss for me. They are the window to my soul and to the world. My cameras keeps me alive. It is a part of me that allows me to connect and express myself.

 A dear and generous friend, called me after I had written her an e-mail and said "Julieann. Are you all right? I was thinking. It's time you had the best there is so that there are no limits on you. I am going to get you the new Nikon D2X. Lets get it now, it's time. It's my privilege to be able to assist you in this way."

 I was speechless. I fell on my knees and cried with gratitude for this incredible woman that God had placed mysteriously in my life. She then drove me to the camera place and that afternoon, I had the camera I thought I would never be able to afford. We were laughing and singing as I clicked away out the window. She stopped at Chastain Horse Stables, where I took the first pictures with the little girls riding. One of the happiest days of my life. With the lack of work that I have had this past year, there is no way I could support myself.

 Word got around that I was blind and the phone stopped ringing. This hurt me so much. I got not one phone call of a client. People didn't give me a chance to prove that you don't need eyes to see because the energy is still there. Or people get really weird about blindness and they don't even want to think it could happen to them even though dying and going blind are the two biggest fears most people have. I understand those fears but if I could bring my mother and my son back, I would hand my eyes and limbs in a New York Second. I would. Or if someone needed a kidney or liver and needed my eyes, I would hand them over because life is too precious. I have proven from the beginning that the Third Eye is powerful and sees energy.

 So I have this amazing camera. I have all the tools I need. Kirven bought my this incredible Dell laptop for my birthday in July and gave me four hard drives. I have held unto his strong arm since the day after each surgery as he led me to the banks of the river and made sure I was sitting in a safe place and has watched me capture the geese in flight.

I have to prove this incredible mystery I have experienced. I just thought it would be temperary. I want to take the wheel of my ship and be my own Captain and steer my way to lands I haven't known about. I now believe the wind and currents will show me the way as I take my tightly grasped hand off the wheel. One finger after another.

 I have continued to try and move forward to move into a spiritual light, even if my eyes have prohibited the natural light that I crave. Sometimes I feel like I am frozen in place, sometimes I feel like I am slipping backwards but I continue to look forward.

 My dear friends, I write this not seeking your pity... NO PITY!  I write this because I know how much you all want to understand.  I know that you come to my space to feel deeply.  I want you to see what I see and maybe this will allow you to feel grateful for the beauty in your lives and empathy for those around you that may be less able to view every moment. To feel every moment is what's important. I offer these moments to you with so much love and gratitude.

Something bad must have happened to her. I will never know. I am sure she wasn’t aware that my father was taking her precious little girl to have her real lessons in the mighty ocean.  His theory was that if I understood the sea and how unpredictable it was, I would be somewhat prepared to face life with all it's currents and undertows.

He was right. The ocean has always been my teacher and my home. Its womb is where I belong. It’s my element. I am a water baby.

My father taught me almost everything I needed to know to be a survivor of war. He taught me strategy. He taught me to be a logical thinker and to understand timing. He taught me fortitude and how essential it is in one's being. Inner bricks of strenght make one's fortress. These bricks are made putting fear to the coals.

He said that honesty was always the answer to all things. Right is right and wrong is wrong. Being a hurricane specialist in the Navy, was a plus for me. He taught me about the elements of nature, which he said is similar to the elements in a human being.

My father taught me that if an unexpected huge wave is before me, not to turn my back because it would take me to places I couldn’t control. He said that once in a while, everything will seem pretty calm on the surface...then unexpectantly, you look up and there is a wall of black standing before you. I have experienced this many times growing up on the ocean. It is scary as hell. There is no way out but in. It is the only choice.

My father told me to wait until the right moment, just when the wave holds still for just a second. Then dive straight into its belly with fingers and feet pointed as in a long dive and most of the time, you can get through it and to the other side. I have found this to be true and many times I have smiled huge at how easy it was. Power only steps back when faced with a stronger power. Power comes from believing in yourself, no matter what. Usually there is another wave, right after it. Then you have to make a fast assumption and sometimes, turn around and go with it’s force and body surf to the sand where you usually end up with a mouth full of sand.

 My relationships with people are handled just like I did with the ocean. Sometimes they are unpredictable and a little scary. I am a risk taker when it comes to life. My very best friends were met by strange circumstances. As well as my enemies. Yes, I have enemies. There are people who probably wish I would drown. I won’t.

 There are people who are afraid of the truth. The Truth is like that great big wave that looks like it will consume you… maybe even kill you. They aren't prepared when the Truth sneeks up on them and taps them on the shoulder. They try to run but there is no running from the Truth. Might as well face it fully and dive right into the belly. Good chance you will come out on the other side.

                                                  The Day of My Son’s Burial

 It was raining the day my little boy was buried. I don’t know if there was any thunder because I could not hear anything. I couldn’t hear what the nurses were saying. I could only hear my tiny son’s weak cry. When I pushed him out after a long and painful labor, I heard a tiny little cry. I started to sit up and couldn't. They had my body strapped to the table. I heard the doctor say that my son was very tiny and they rushed him out the door. A big mask was placed on my face and then black.

Every time I started to come to, I asked how my baby was and to see him.  The nurses rushed over to me and gave me another shot. I fought the injections, pleading with them to bring me my son. help me get to my son and  then after he died, and to my son’s burial. I had the right to bury my own son. That was my God given right and the right of my son too. Who else should bury her child but the mother?

I was heavily sedated by the shots the nurse kept giving me on that day. They wouldn’t listen to my protests.  With each injection, they took away my voice. The screams stayed locked inside. My rightful place was with my child, from the beginning and  until the end.  I had the right to touch him, feed him, stroke him, and soothe him. It was my voice that had the power in it. I could have lent him my powerful will.

I had saved many a little fragile animal in my life. Animals that were hopeless until they were in my hands. How do I make sense of this? I  am a giver of life. My hands were now a mother’s hands. My hands were to gently place the first handful of dirt, on top of his small, white casket with the angels carved on its side. They amputated my hands. The thought of him crying for me and needing the heart he had been safe under and not being allowed to be there, felt like the cruelest of crimes ever committed to me. What slot do I put that in? Is there such a slot?

I was tormented. Struggling in my sleep, to escape from the hospital and get to the funeral of my child. It was if I were lying on the bottom of the ocean. No mattered how hard I tried; I couldn’t swim to the top to be where I belonged.

I didn’t know that babies died.  I didn’t know that sorrow could be one long strangling moment that left me gasping for air. Razors of pain slashed me into a child again and an old ancient woman at the same time. Something sweet had been amputated from me. In my empty womb, winter took its place. I had never known winter before. The harshness caked my soul with frost.

 It was inconceivable that my baby wasn’t being gently placed in his new little cradle in the freshly painted “soft yellow” nursery, with its high ceilings and tall single window.  It had just been completed a little more than a week before.

 The nursery was beautiful and royal. It awaited the presence for my little prince to sleep in his canopy bed with the French lace draping down its sides to the soft white rug.  When he slept under my heart, I was a queen. I wore my nobility to heights I had never known before.

Something terrible happened. After this event, I found myself exiled into some sort of dark dungeon without a window.

 How could it be that his cradle was a grave now, I asked? How could this possibly be? At home, he had everything he needed to grow up to be a happy little boy. There was no reason, no justified explanation.

 Everything happened so fast. My eighteen year old belly was round and beautiful. I couldn't stop touching it. Soon I would bring him into the world and care for him the rest of my life. Then the trauma happened and I was in an ambulance heading for the hospital and hours and hours of horrible pain. And then the relief.  My son was alive. Relief is the greatest of all emotions.

After three days of induced blackness, I came back into the light.  I was very weak. I was alone in  a hospital room.  I didn’t know that three days had passed by since I heard that little cry. It felt like a couple of hours.

I remembered a large man walking into my room, with a white coat on. He looked exhausted. He stood there and introduced himself to me as my little boy’s doctor.  Joy erupted in my heart. Thank God my baby had made it. I asked him, “Can I see him now?” 

The doctor sat on the side of my bed, took my hand and said,  “I did everything I could for your little boy.  He only weighed two pounds. We were shocked that he survived three days. He fought hard till the end. He just didn’t have the strength. He didn’t make it."

I looked at him and said,” What did you say?”  And he said,  “Your little boy just died.  I’m sorry.”  Then he squeezed my hand and added,  “You are still young.  One day you will have a house full of children.”  This statement was the twist of the knife in my heart.

I started to scream, “ No this isn’t true!!!! My baby isn’t dead!!! You are lying to me!!!"

 The nurse came rushing in to give me a shot and the doctor was walking out with head held low. I quickly stopped screaming and held my hands up to the nurse with the syringe.  I pleaded with him to wait and listen to me please! PLEASE !!"

He  turned around and looked at me.  “Can I see him? I want to see him. Please!”  He shook his head, “ No, it’s against hospital rules. It would be too hard on you.” 

That was the moment that I started to hate the word,  “rules” for the rest of my life.  That is the day I saw fences and barbed wire as a symbol that kept me away from giving milk to my baby to keep him alive. In my photography, you will see lots of fences, barbed wire and cows. The cow has everything that can sustain life just as I did as a mother.

I had to see my baby. I pleaded with him to make an exception… just once.

 “Please, I have   to see him, please!  I will be good.  Please let me hold him. Just for a minute. I will be good and behave myself. I will give him back. I promise.”

 He paused. My eyes strained to appeal and connect with the father in him.  He said to the stunned nurse,  “Bring her son to her. I know it's against policy. I am making an exception.”

Then he turned to me and said with firm kindness, “Julie, you can see him for just one minute but only for a minute. I never allow this and you have to promise me that you won’t get hysterical. And Julie, promise, you will give the baby back, okay?”  And I said, “I promise.  Thank you, doctor, thank you.”

The nurse started to object but the doctor just gave her an authority look.  She said that she would go get “him” but I had to behave myself. Immediate indignation swept over me. How dare her talk to me as though I were a child and not a mother who had rights.

 I didn’t say anything. I didn't want to makike trouble. I was too grateful that I was allowed to see my little son. I knew if I let my emotions out, I would lose my only chance to see the little one I had grown totally in love with. for over half a year.

 I was very weak and alone. I managed to stand, even though I was dizzy. My mother and father were on their way up the six hour drive from South Florida.l . They had were to get special permission because my mother had been on jury duty all that week. I didn’t know where my husband was.

As odd and strange as this sounds, I quickly went into the bathroom, washed my face, my hands and brushed my teeth. I knew that I was going to hold the most valuable piece of art I had ever produced.  I did not recognise my face. It looked different. Somehow, I didn't look like an eighteen year old anymore. I looked for a brush. I found one. I started brushing my long hair.  I wanted to look pretty for my little boy.

Outside the rain was coming down hard.  Was the pounding coming from the rain against the window or from my heart. 

The nurse walked in holding a blue blanketed little bundle in her arms.  Tears were streaming down her face as she walked over to me. She gently placed my baby in my outreached arms. My hands gently pulled back the blanket to uncover this child that I had knew better than anyone and loved more than anyone. I was one had lived under my heart for the last seven months.

In my arms.  I held the most beautiful, dark haired little angel.  I gasped at his beauty. Just like when you discover that through the night your cat or dog had their babies. That kind of gasp.  He was so tiny and perfect.  He was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. He had a head full of black hair. His skin was olive. He had to be sleeping. I would wake him up like Sleeping Beauty. He just needed his mother’s kiss, that's all. I  held him close to my warm, milk filled breasts and kissed his little face ever so gently. Over and over. I told him that I loved him more than anyone.

He did not wake up.

Seconds were passing for the minute I was allotted. I had to give him a name. I named my son “ Kenneth Julian “ after my father, Captain Kenneth Julian Nordstrom. My little son was a soldier, fighting for each breath. I started to weep, at the thought that he had to fight his battle all by himself, without my help. His battle was over. Mine had just begun for the rest of my life.

I kept saying to him,  “I’m so sorry, Kenneth.  I’m so sorry. I tried to protect you!  I love you.  I love you more than anyone. I promise that I will always love you. I will never forget you. I have to give you to God now but I don’t want to. You will be happy in Heaven. I will be with you again, one day. God loves you more than me or he wouldn’t take you from me. Oh God, Kenneth! I love you so much! Please forgive me!” I drenched his little face with my tears as the rain was drenching the earth, outside the hopsital window. It was hardest thing I have ever had to do.

 The nurse came back into the room and stood there. A panic took over my being. It was too early to take him from my arms. She seemed so detached and cold. Why should she be able to hold my baby and I couldn't? She told me that it was time. She had to take him back now. I should be grateful the doctor broke the rules for me.  She reached to take him from me. I wouldn’t let her. I held him tighter to me. This was not natural. I couldn’t let go of him yet. Too much was being asked of me. He was mine. He was still warm. I had to have more time with him. It wasn’t enough.

I begged her, "Please, not yet.  Please, just a little longer. He’s MY son. You’ve got to give me a little more time.  Please!  I’ll never see him again ...just one more minute!” 

 To my horror, it felt like she was snatching my baby from me. I struggled with her. She was stronger and took him from my arms and briskly walked out of the room. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway. I was alone and howling a mother's cry. What were they going to do with him now? Wonder if they didn’t touch him gently. I could not absorb this reality. It was too big. I could not attain it just as it is impossible to attain the breadth and the width of the sea.

 I only knew that my baby was being placed in the middle of this ocean, a the very bottom and I would never see him again. I don’t remember anything after that except another injection was given to me. As I slowly slipped under the sea of pain, I whispered his name over and over " Kenneth, don't leave me. Please don't leave me and the black cold water covered my head until I drowned into its blackness.

 That was the first and last time I ever saw the little boy who changed my life forever.

Thirty-eight years with a gaping wound and I can feel the healing. I am able to be with him now. He is my little guide and when I am in the woods and looking for the right lighting, I hear his little sweet voice saying, "Mommy. Come down this path. I know where it is." This past year, when I lost my vision for all those months, people were shocked at what I was able to see and capture. I always say "I had help. Another pair of eyes were seeing what I could not see." 

I had wanted to believe in heaven all my life. After being a fundentalist minister's wife for eighteen years, you would think that I knew for sure there was a heaven. I have questioned it all my life and so when I tell you that I feel my son, this is an absolute with me. His presense is stronger in death. We are very connected and very close.

I am able to see the beauty through the barbed wire. The barbed wire has no power of me anymore. I never hesitate to climb over the barbed wire fences, if I feel there is something I need to get closer to. Sometimes I don’t. The barbed wire defines it enough. It does not hinder my view or freedom. I am never afraid of the other side. You can’t even imagine the places I have climbed in order to get deeper into the feeling and strength of the scene. My loved ones are there, waiting for me. What was once a loss is now my greatest gain. Somehow, they dissapated into everything that is beautiful and pure.

My first set of sheep pictures were taken after climbing a rusty barbed wire fence. . My thumb got caught on the barb and ripped. I said a quick “F__!” and then ran through the field to get to the sheep. I wasn’t paying any attention to the deep cut until I held my camera up to shoot and my right thumb hurt. There was sticky stuff all over my hand and camera. All I thought of was “EEK! My digital camera is going be ruined if blood gets in it!”

I quickly took my sock off and wrapped it around my hand. I just had to see the sheep. I just had to touch them and talk to them. Nothing would keep me away from innocence of the sheep. Nothing can keep me away from Kenneth again.

After my baby died, no one ever spoke to me about it except the black maids at the farm. My mother went on and pretended as if it had never happened. Throughout the years, my father would make one statement about this pivotal event in his daughter’s life. He would have a couple of drinks and say “I don’t think I ever saw a more beautiful child then when I went to the funeral home and saw him in his casket. He was so perfect.” He didn’t call him by name and that’s all he ever said. My husband and his family never talked about it.

I found early in the morning on our vast farm, a communication I could have where someone listened to everything that was in my heart. The horses. I talked to them, I cried in their manes, I stroked their necks and they never turned away. They welcomed my voice and my touch. They took me on their backs to new and windy paths.

I discovered a peaceable kingdom on my own. A spell comes over me when I enter this kingdom. The deer, the squirrels, the birds, the chipmonks, the cows, the horses....they all know me. I belong there more than I do where the humans are. No judgment breaks there. All expression is welcomed. I am needed and my breasts fill with milk of life. I feel full, ripe and complete as a woman. I have come full circle and I chose to live my life exactly as I want. I know the secret. It's finding ones purpose with all your mind, soul and body and never ever wavering from it.

How do I describe this, I find myself saying. A visual comes into my mind. You know the feeling of the first time you saw your baby or animal right away and this little gasp comes out? The same gasp I had when I first looked at my son is the same kind of gasp I have when I take most of my images.

It is a gasp of awe. In this awe, my son lives on.

Dearest space friends...

I have this strong compulsion to connect with all of you who love me as I love you. I want to write but what I want to write is very sad. I feel many of you are very sad right now too and I need to think if what I write would in some way be a burden or a weight to you. I want to continue to write from my heart but my heart is bleeding right now.

This is a very sad month for me. It is the month when my little son Kenneth died, my beloved mother, my father, my husband and my best friend out here in the country, Patricia. who died two years ago of breast cancer. All these people loved me unconditionally and I miss them so very much.

Pain. Red red pain. And yet there is white white hope. So many things I want to share with you but can't yet. 

Pearl Buck once wrote

"There is an alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness." How true these words are.

I want you to know that you bring me so much happiness. In the midst of all this sadness...there is a group of you who have also known sadness. Yet in the midst of it you reach out to me and embrace me and feed me words to keep on and keep on. I read your words over and over. I print them out and look at them before I go to bed. Your love messages keep me connected. I want to thank you for your faithfulness and not taking my lack of writing as anything personal and accepting that I am in the space I am. I love you. I care. I pray for you. I thank God for you. Your spiritual presense surrounds me in a way that to some is not explanable and yet to me...there is splendor in it.

I will write when it is time.

I love Mary Oliver and her poems. This is one of my favorites and I want to leave it here and hope that somehow this poem speaks to you in the way it does me.

always...Julieann...always

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.