Monochrome Monday Musings

I woke up this morning with my heart racing. I wasn’t even upright before my heart flew past the hundred mark as I lie there stunned. I sat quietly as it slowly made its way back to a normal range, not plunging, but like a perfect slow-motion dive back to center. Bodies are weird. There are so many subtle beats and ticks and flow that keep these gears cranking and grinding us into action and movement. Was my heart revving up for the day?

I got my feelings hurt this week and let it linger too long. The details aren’t important to this story, but suffice to say I opened the door a crack and something I didn’t expect rushed me with surprising force. It’s like I imagine a flood event. The water breaches its bank and rushes out and over and through everything in its path before it settles and slowly dries out. I have as much control over other people as I do over a rising river. 

I shared this all with a friend and ended my epic rant with a solid “shame on me” for letting it get to me.

She replied “No shaming. You are already rallying in recognizing it”.

That was exactly what I needed to hear and I’m deeply grateful for the timely reminder. I know who I am. That means something. I’m reminded, too, of my own words from the beginning of the year: 


I’ve shared here before on how I view monochrome shots; color all but drained out. I see these photos like an x-ray of life. The bones of a thing, highlighting structure and what it takes to hold a thing together. Color is glorious. It enhances everything, much like light can do. But sometimes I want the reminder of what it is we build upon. I want to see how shadows demonstrate strength and take our eye to the smallest detail. Light is like glue. Shadow is what is thrown off at every angle. Somewhere in the absence of color something beautiful finds room to happen. I hope you see what I see.

Structure. Strength. Good bones. 

12 Comments on “Monochrome Monday Musings

  1. You were the one who taught me, many many years ago, that the only person we can control is ourselves, and sometimes (for me) even that is an impossible task. In black and white, there is a clarity that oftentimes, color can obscure. After getting your feelings ‘pinched,’ you stripped everything down to its elemental level. Your images are stark, as I imagine your feelings and reactions were, “in that moment.” Sometimes that pinch is so poignant it takes your breath away, very similar to your monochromes of your mountain peaks and your birds… almost … naked. That you can so beautifully translate and lay bare what you are seeing as well as what you are feeling, Bon, is a gift. Sometimes it will bring you pain, and sometimes beauty, but, it will always bring you CLARITY…*

    • The principles of my recovery have sunk in, bone deep, it seems. I’m reminded of the alternate Serenity Prayer that says: God, grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, courage to change the one I can and the wisdom to know that one is me. I get so easily spun, but I’m reaching for the tools I know can help. Thanks for all the kind words about my monochrome vision. All things can be boiled down to their most perfect spare version of self. I expect to do more and more experimenting with the absence of color and the encouragement means a lot. Thanks for being here. For ALL of these many, many years* πŸ’•

  2. It’s true, taking away color makes me focus on other things, the lines and threads and shades and bumps. I like the way you figure out how to recover over and over. Your resilience is quite strong now. We’re only one breath away from our center, but sometimes you have to hyperventilate before you can get there.

    • Thank you, Nancy. I love what can come through the lens of a camera. I’m going to stretch every boundary with this simple tool I have. I don’t need bigger or better, I need only dive deeper. I hope I can always keep that “weeble” quality; knowing I might gasp and wobble but I won’t fall down. Thanks for your presence here.

  3. Dear Bonnie, Such an exquisite, thoughtful entry into “Monochrome Monday photos”. It IS harder to keep our spirits up in the gray, even though we know gray means water for our region and that is good. Thanks for the articulate dive into your own thought process and, as always, the glorious photos.

    • Thank you, Ann. Your words mean a lot to me. I’m reminded often of Deep Water Passage. And of how you lived so fully into what was in front of you. Our spirits rise and fall like the tide. And if we can trust it, it will always brings us home*

  4. I appreciate your artistry greatly even if I don’t always comment! Love the baggage words and imagery; love the simplicity of the photos!! Thank you!

    • Thank you so much, Bailey! I’m looking forward to trying more with black, white and gray. My eye loves the addition of a very faint hint of color, so I’m excited to play with this muted palette.

  5. Love the simple composition of the kingfisher photo. Simplicity is often the most difficult. Awesome.

    • Thank you so much. I’m going to play around with it a bit more in the future. I love how that photo came out too. Spare, but elegant.

    • Very wise indeed. And thank you for the perfect words of your own and the calming presence. It made such a difference and I’m really grateful πŸ’ž

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