A damp...cold...grey November day. I let go of expectation. I don't hope or even imagine that it might be anything other. It is..what it is. I start with where I am.
I have a strong will...legs to carry me...a camera over my shoulder and in my hand. I gather my favorite tools. I use what I have.
In the beginning - I feel the wet...the lack of color...the cold air. I sense the internal resistance. I hear the back and forth dialogue...both sides of the conflict - going on in my head.
I don't want to....I do. I can't....I can. I don't....I won't...I will. There will be nothing.....but maybe..just maybe - something might be?
I remind myself of my practice....that the prize is in the process...that the art is in the discipline of simply showing up each and every day. And - I go out there and do what I can.