There’s something extra life-giving about photographing people I love.
Its like saying, “this is how I see you.” And the way I see Annie is, a beam of light.
She’s radiant and empathic and knowing her is a gift to my soul.
The sum of each day feels overwhelming.
The reality we wake up to each day unfolds with uncertainty. But among the unfamiliar, lies opportunity for uncharted joy.
Joy found in single moments, that I string together to rewrite the narrative in my head.
Moments of connection and wonder.
Moments where I see a plant with fresh eyes, having previously deemed it an eye-sore. I now see the depth of its color and its eager growth.
Moments of shared experience. Where working from home paves way for a kiddo to share in his dad’s passion.
Moments that remind me- as long as there is breath in my lungs, nothing can take what is deeply rooted within me.
I consider mindfulness the cornerstone of all that I do.
For me, its more than bringing my awareness to the present moment. Its about bringing all of myself into every interaction, behavior or choice that I make.
I notice a huge shift in habit, when I apply mindfulness to things I purchase. I don’t buy nearly as impulsively, or as a means of emotional avoidance.
Before making a purchase, I ask myself these questions:
- Is this item functional? Does it meet a need or serve a purpose? If so, is it sustainably/ethically made?
- Does this item improve our quality of life?
- Is this item sentimental or a piece of art? Is it handmade or local?
- Can we find this, or something similar, second-hand?
By running down this checklist, many things end up unneeded. This practice of identifying what is essential to purchase, changes how I view what is essential in every realm of my life.
My mindset shifts from a desire to consume, to a restored reverence for what it means to own something.
I practice this with everything in our home. From products we use to plants we care for.
I decant items (such as Epsom salts) into glass jars and store them out in the open. This makes the look of storing them– and the experience of using them– more intentional.
As a result, I don’t feel a desire to decorate our home. What you see around our house reflects two basic things; what we use, or what we love.
This minimalist and mindful approach to making a home makes me feel like I can exhale into the margins.
I’m a sucker for a good love story. But what makes a love story “good”?
I think its authenticity. Because that’s where real and freeing love blooms.
The kind of love where you get to not only be your whole self, but continue moving towards the fullness of it.
“We don’t wear any masks with each other and we daily choose to love all the good and all the mess that we each bring to the table.” – Lindsey
Those are the stories I want to bear witness to. Because that’s the kind of love that heals all that’s hurting in the world.
Lindsey and James are at the very beginning of their love story.
The road to finding one another was marked by heartache and healing – but man, the grace is written in their joy.
Lindsey and James – thanks for modeling the way to love.
Cheering you on, in all things.
There’s a renewed purpose that ignites when I practice mindfulness during every-day tasks.
I like to practice this when I cook. I honor the ingredients, the labor that harvested them, and the earth that sustained them.
And all of the sudden, in the middle of a messy kitchen, I’ve embarked on a spiritual practice. One that turns my redundant mindset, to one of reverence.
“Our lived-in perspective is not always the same as the reality unfolding. Its all magic, I think.”
Last year, I met this family specifically to take fall photos. This year, I find myself beyond thankful for all that has manifested in my life, because Meg is in it.
My time with them embodies what I love most about photography – beauty in the otherwise mundane. Moments between a mama and babe that might feel repetitive or exhausting in the moment, are the snaps that leave me speechless.
It reminds me, that our lived-in perspective is not always the same as the reality unfolding. Its all magic, I think.
I first met Katie on the phone, and I kind of fell in love with her soul right then.
Our passions overlap, and she’s blazing trails I want to follow. She has a glow about her that is both tender and powerful. It’s the mark of a woman who knows she is well loved.
Its been almost a year since Clover made them a family of three. But they exist as though they know no other way. Observing them laugh and connect in the space they call home, was a glimpse of humanity at its best.
I believe joy is rooted in contentment. And most of the time, we’re too busy to see the beauty found in every day moments.
My lifestyle sessions aim to do just that – discover joy right where you are. Whether its a wood-burning stove, shadows on the wall, your favorite plants, a cooling pie on the counter, or a kiddo in their play space. There is magic everywhere in the spaces you already inhabit. I promise.
I practice reflecting deep, but I resist going deep with other humans. It’s really difficult for me to be fully seen as I am.
Being part of a women’s circle, makes space for me to practice this kind of vulnerability. People often ask; what is a women’s circle? What do you do?
Mostly, we hold space. We sit and listen, and ask good and hard questions about each other and ourselves. We tell each other things we really don’t want to. Sometimes we hear things we don’t want to, but really need to.
In this space, I get to take off every hat, every role, every expectation and every label. I exist only as Sarah, the soul that inhabits this body.
There is something so intangibly sacred about this space. We exist as we are; beloved, treasured, championed and held.
[photos are from a women’s circle retreat, away in the mountains of New Hampshire.]
Sometimes people say, its hard to keep track of what I am up to. I understand this, because sometimes its hard for me to keep track myself.
I do a lot of things, and its not because I feel I have to, its because I get to.
My day job is part-time, and I work from home. Its a company I’ve been with for 8 years, and we are privileged to receive the stability of this income.
I also teach yoga.
I teach one class a week at a local gym. Its restorative and contemplative movement and it’s one of my highest honors to get to hold space for the students who show up.
I also teach and photograph for Camp Glow it Up. Twice a year we retreat away into the Berkshire mountains for a weekend of connection and introspection. It’s led and facilitated by my dearest friends, and its the breath of fresh air I need. You can come join us too, if you want.
I spend the rest of my time photographing life, and writing about it.
Photography and writing go hand in hand for me. Because while I like words, there are some moments I can’t articulate.
I find it best to document it in a photograph, leaving room for feelings to take precedence instead of words.
I’ve known Tim since I was in preschool. Yes, preschool. For those counting, we’re coming up on 29 years of friendship.
In our adult lives, we’ve never lived in the same town. We went to different colleges, and started our families in different states (mine, in another country.)
And while our lives haven’t unfolded in proximity to one another, we’ve found ourselves in a similar season of life – both doing our best to figure out how to parent a toddler.
I think there’s a seismic shift that happens in parenthood. On the inside, it mostly feels like chaos (smelly, sleep-deprived chaos.)
But from the outside looking in, I always see authenticity blooming. And witnessing one of my longest-time friends interact with his baby girl… well – let’s just say, I’m lucky I snagged at least a few shots in teary-eyed-focus.
Scenes from our time in Ohio.
I take random photos around my home and places we visit. It helps me practice the art of pausing..
Before I took the photo below, all I could see was a box of diapers and dirty clothes piled on the bed. I snapped this shot peering through a cracked door, and now all I can see is a tender moment – a grandma reading to her grandson, basking in the glow of afternoon light.
Pausing in the moment really does shift perspective.