A Week in Photos

Dennett’s SNAPSHOTS challenge

I’ve been in Alaska and Oregon for most of the last month, and it seems that I’ve returned home to a “life in the midst of transition” — not necessarily in a bad way, but in some very tangible ways. It seems that the universe, in all of her wisdom, has planned some changes for me, some of which were probably whispers in the wind for a while.

I’m so thankful for the love and support of my husband and family, which are truly my sustenance, the nourishment of my soul. And I do know that change is the essence of being. It’s what makes life interesting.

I’d been off of Medium for a while, allowing myself to be immersed in the experience of traveling and the freedom of writing and photographing without the boundaries of publishing. But, one of the first pieces I noticed when I returned, was Dennett’s SNAPSHOTS challenge to capture a week in photos — not necessarily our very best photos, but those which capture the essence of our experiences. So, here we go…

These photos span a little more than a week but tell a story of a time in my life.

My sister, Katherine Pollock, and I spent a few days exploring the Oregon Coast, utterly oblivious to the impending devastation of the fires that had yet to begin burning. She lives in Portland, and we rented a couple of Airbnb’s in Seaside and Depoe Bay. The vast beauty of this part of this world has always spoken to me in tongues that my soul doesn’t even fully understand.

After our seaside explorations, my sister, who has seen hardly a soul in the months since the pandemic began, flew with me back to Orange County, California for a week.

I snapped the following photo from the window of the plane. We’d heard that a fire had started, but it really wasn’t big news yet.

Shortly after our arrival home, the skies here began to fill with smoke from the fires in Northern California and outside of Pasadena. Since then, the sun has been burning orange and the skies have been tinted sepia. The following photo is from my morning walk, overlooking Peter’s Canyon.

Despite the smoke, we decided to go kayaking in Back Bay, in Newport Beach. The egrets and other waterfowl were out, and we even saw a sea turtle, but it felt like we were out and about during apocalyptic times. The sky, at mid-day, was so yellow that you could barely see the sun at times.

A little bright spot though — this giant “hummer” of a bee came to visit us while we were swimming in the backyard. I have always loved these big “bumbley” bees. This one seemed as if it was almost posing for me. Nature has a way of continuing on, despite pandemics and the messes of mankind.

Then, my dishwasher, which has been struggling along, with a lot of coaxing and breaker turning-on and turning-off, died. A new one is coming but isn’t scheduled to arrive for a month. But, like the wise Buddhists always say, “Chop wood, carry water.” In my case, I guess this means — “wash dishes,” which I really don’t mind so much. It’s sort of meditational.

I awoke the other morning to the “termite guy” ringing the doorbell, unannounced, here to “repair” some of the fascia. He was only supposed to do some minor work (involving some sort of filler) on a small section of fascia. But when I went upstairs to check on what was happening, he had removed the entire fascia board from the front of the house and my lovely copper gutter (a huge extravagance which we indulged in a couple years ago) was dangling precariously at an odd angle, (completely crumpled in the middle). This is a story about my “singing” gutters:

I’ve taught at Yoga Works for twenty years, ever since it was a tiny studio in Costa Mesa. It’s since grown to a worldwide presence, and it closed its doors worldwide (due to the pandemic) for good last week. My yoga philosophy classes for Loyola Marymount University are also not happening this fall.

These losses left me reeling for several days, but I’ve since realized that the vacuum of loss creates room for new opportunities. I know, too, that I’m one of the lucky ones. My husband’s income is enough for us. There are so many other souls out there who are bereft of jobs during this time. It seems almost wrong to be mourning these changes when so many others are struggling to just keep food on the table. So many of my fellow teachers are drifting into an uncertain future right now.

So, I’ve decided that it’s time to re-paint my yoga room — a fresh start. I’m thinking azure blue. What do you think?

My husband, my sister and I pulled out a bottle of limoncello that one of my dear students, Julie, made for us a while back. It had been stashed in the back of the freezer, but it seemed like a good night for it.

We had a fabulous laugh, one of those kinds that you just can’t stop and every time you look at each other it starts again, at the sight of my husband drinking limoncello out of what looked like a “lilliputian” glass. We decided we were all in the realm of Gulliver, traveling in a new and foreign land.

And in the end, life goes on…. The universe has her own plans for us.

And how about those egrets? Pretty, aren’t they?

Thank you Dennett, for the challenge:

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Story and photos ©Erika Burkhalter.