DAY 596

in {and out} Week 30: Red

Vibrant colors are related to strong emotions, and in particular, red represents joy and passion. Even when I can be joyful and passionate, those colors wouldn’t be easily linked to me. Not only because I don’t wear them usually, but because they are quite expansive and this is not my case.

Colors are codes, ways to send messages to the persons who are around us, and when I am in a social situation I don’t feel like attracting much interest or I prefer to be seen as a person which is serious and responsible rather than spontaneous or fun (something that is not false). However, this changes when I am at home. There, I don’t fear to reveal my creativity, my love for mixing styles, my need to extend my energy and personalize every single detail. There, I am not so conventional, and all the rigidness turns into freedom.

I have thought much about this apparent contradiction, I have wondered if I am more close to be my real self at home than outside, or if I should try to overcome the gap between those two spaces. But I have come to the conclusion that beyond the natural impact that being in a social -or private- place has on our behaviors; beyond the game of mirrors that we all can play, the masks and the strategies that we all (me included) develop in order to survive in this planet, I have to accept that I am an introvert and this makes me prone to be reserved and discreet (not shy).

This means (among many other things)  that it takes me a bit more time to show up in social contexts. That is part of who I am, part of my nature and it doesn’t make me less valuable or capable of achieving my goals, or less competent when it comes to understand what is happening around me, to analyze situations, respond to them (even from an emotional point of view) or help others, although I have to follow my own path while doing it.

In short, I move at my own pace but I don't need to compete against no one (even when this society often seems to reward or promote extraversion) or to act at the commands of others. Of course,  there is plenty room for improvement, but I  want to evolve while staying true to my own nature. I want to cultivate my own system for being assertive, showing empathy, leading and managing situations or making myself visible while I keep loving solitude, silence, dark colors, wandering along my inner landscape or  thinking too much... without starting to give opinions too fast, to become too expressive or to show off in front of strangers. 

There is nothing wrong with that but  I choose to be present in this world in a way that I can respect and  honor my truth.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 595

in {and out} Week 29: Noon

Twelve o'clock in the daytime (the moment I took this photo)  is a very precise time. It is midday, literally speaking. And it's difficult to perceive, unless you are looking at your watch. At this moment the sun is crossing the local meridian, it is in the zenith, so the light is direct and sharp. It is said that is not the best moment to take photos, but I do love that light. It is fierce and merciless and challenges the photographer, but if one learns to tame it, results can be amazing.

But noon is also (according to dictionary) "the highest, brightest or finest point or part of something". Although the definition is clear, this concept is less precise than the previous one, and even more difficult to calculate. The predominant speeches in our society usually link the peak of one's life to early adulthood, economic success and professional achievements... but as far as I am concerned, the highest or most important top of a person's life has nothing to do with that. Indeed it is not characterized by the gaining of wealth or position, but involves clarity and joy. 

In my case, this has coincided with midlife, that -if we trust advertising- is the start of decay, even when reality shows a different state of things.  Due to all those factors, it has taken me time to accept that this is a good moment in my life (indeed, maybe one of the best ones). But I truly believe it is. 

However, it is not good in the way I used to dream of (prejudices, again...), but in  a completely different way.  Things seem to be raw right now, not more refined. My emotions, my opinions, my perception are not so filtered or subtle, they are not even so genteel. I used to waste many time moderating them, but now I have no time (or disposition) to do it, I need to be sincere, open… to be natural, to feel  that I am just me. 

 I know this  need to process less has to do with the authenticity I was yearning for. To be honest, I still don´t know how to deal with it, but I guess that it is like the midday light: I only have to learn to tame it.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 594

in {and out} Week 28: Summer Selfie

When I started my summer vacation this year, suddenly all seemed to be irrelevant. I left my personal habits, this blog and many other things just abandoned. The photos taken, the posts unfinished, the doubts unresolved, the dreams suspended. I experienced the urge to try new things, to join new challenges, to dare to explore what I felt was waiting for me. Little I knew that I would spend most of the days just resting.

Yes, I’ve been learning that I can experience serenity beyond meditation, my inner work or any other practice. And from this accidental calm a new path has started to emerge; from the days I couldn't even leave my home a new clarity has stormed into my life; from the long afternoons alone with my thoughts (and my fan) a new direction has become manifest, and so very evident.

After the first half century of my life (oh, gosh!), after all the grief I went  through the first semester of this year, I am realizing that I am finally able to do what my soul has been yearning for. After a whole half century, I feel that I am finally ready.

The problem was that once this unexpected (and powerful) catharsis started to take place, I couldn't imagine how to make a comeback, how to start again here in this old place when I feel so changed… but finally this self-portrait (taken one of those days) gave me an excuse –so to speak- to restart this conscious practice. So here I am. 

This is a new chapter of my life. I still am not sure how it will take shape, but I know that I will be much more devoted to my inner quest and my creative endeavor. I know that all the things I have always wanted to accomplish regarding these aspects will come true. I do know it. 

I will be reporting the evolution of this tiny revolution. Hope you all will unravel this thrilling episode with me.

Much Love, dear friends,

Z.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 593

in {and out} Week 27: Song

I am not a great fan or a connoisseur of music. To be honest, I would love to be able to enjoy music more often, to know more about its history or techniques or to recognize composers. I really admire those who are able to do all that, and mainly those who have musical talent. But some days, music only irritates me and I have to opt for silence. This continues to happen even after living with my husband who was raised by a musical family and has great aptitude for music, after acknowledging that I have not such a bad ear as I used to think and after trying to learn to appreciate it better.

Paradoxically, I love dancing. And one cannot dance without music. As a result, music is associated in my mind to body motion, not to the fact of listening. It doesn't lead me to be more relaxed or calmed through stillness, but through a sort of inner euphoria that makes me want to smile, move and shout (which is quite odd as I am an introvert).

There are many pieces that produce this effect on me. Popular songs, classical pieces, country ballads, folk music, themes from old music comedies, Spanish boleros, blues, Latin-American salsa... you name it.

However, I have not many favorite songs, it depends on the moment and on my mood and quite often, I come across them accidentally, but while listening some of them, I have realized that there are always a common thread that link those which I prefer: time. Some way or another, they all talk about it.

There are words that make a good lyric and time (along with love) must be among them, but I have seen a deeper nexus: time heals, and music can do it also. Time is not visible, but music makes it audible. Music can connect us with circumstances and memories and with the pass of time, while time reveals the greatness of music. And -as far as I am concerned- music has the power to stop time, to make me feel timeless... ageless.

To make me accept (at least, just for a moment) that time is on my side.

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 592

in {and out} Week 26: Animals

We live in the era of great speeches and declarations, of great (and not so great) causes. Most of them deal with ideas and terms that fall within the sphere of the morality and try to set some rules of conduct. As a result, they delimit the correctness of certain behaviors. What can be done, what shouldn't be done.

Social media and mass media often work as loudspeakers of these speeches, so they gain adepts. They work also as a coercive power that forces us to stay faithful to their statements. But it seems to me that this creates double standards: what we say and what we do.

Don't get me wrong, I truly believe that many of those speeches are needed, that the requirements for a better world should be promoted, but the way this is done, makes a difference.

I see clear dissimilarities between educate by giving tools that allow us to analyze reality, be aware of our impact and change the way we act and indoctrinate which means to force a person to accept a point of view uncritically. When we do this last thing, we generate the double standards that I mentioned above. The person knows the doctrine, but doesn't know how to act accordingly or to assess consequences.

University seems to be the perfect ground for all this and teaching there have made me realize how dangerous this can be. These contradictions don't help to achieve what we are looking for, in fact, they provoke the opposing effect.

Change is not easy but is urgent. It demands coherence and determination. All the mystic masters say that it only will happen if we do little things with much consciousness. And I believe this to be true. I think we need the trends toward renewals on this society, but we also need personal commitment.

I try to teach this to my students: To get involved; To be intensely present. Not to follow the stream. And often, (that's why I am talking about this on this post) I give them the following examples:

 Are you in favor to protect the elderly?. Go and visit your grandparents or your great-grandparents. Go there and stay with them a whole day. Listen their stories; help them to go through an ordinary day. Stay with them while they eat or have a nap. Laugh with them. Be aware of their state of mind. See what they need. Forget all theories and practice empathy. Allow yourself to be there. Be mindful.

Are you in favor of the rights of animals? Love one single animal first. Love him (or her) so deeply that you feel that the boundaries between animals and humans become blurred. Look at his (or her) eyes and feel that you are one with that creature. Feel your hearts beating, slowly. Allow yourself to be there. Be mindful.

Once this is done, once you learn to merge your philosophy and your practice, you're ready to take the next step, whatever it be

I tell them so, not only because as far as I am concerned, actions speak louder than words. But because they have to be infused with emotions and knowledge, they have to be approached from sentience and awareness.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 590

in {and out} Week 25: Summer

Well, summer is here, so writing a post about it shouldn't be difficult. But summer is a hot season and lately this seems to drain all my creativity.

All I can do is thinking about when the weather will change. But amidst these negative thoughts (to be honest, the heat weave we are going through doesn't help) I see tiny glimpses of positivity, mainly related to how much I used to love summer.

As a girl, this was my favorite season and the time by the sea is (always will be) among my happiest memories. And also, the careless and relaxed days, the beach, the long afternoons that we were reading and chatting, the dip along with my mother when the sun was almost setting, the evening ice creams  and walks, the starry nights, the murmur of the waves, the moments of peace before going to bed... talking quietly in the terrace.

Thinking of all this makes me smile and makes me think how lucky I was regarding this issue. I lived in an isle, so those who didn't own a house by the sea could enjoy it anyway by going to spend the day there, but my mother decided that she would rent an apartment close to one of the best beaches of the isle in order to make it easier and it was simply fantastic. Sea was truly therapeutic to me along those years (still is), it always managed to heal all the things that could be painful: the disagreements or disappointments, the doubts about myself...  I only had to see its blue vastness and I felt relieved, liberated... and so happy.

I long for having a summer holidays like those I lived again. But I guess that they depended not only on opportunities or circumstances... they were also a state of mind.

And even so, how I would love to live one of those old days all over again at least one more time!.

Just one more time. 

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 589

in {and out} Week 24: New

Seeing that someone else is doing what my mother used to do so well in the past triggered contradictory sentiments in me. Those sentiments appear in particular, when I see how the things she used to use have to be replaced because they are too old or are not functional anymore: the table mats, the towels, the bedspreads, the lines where she hung the clean washing to dry, the clothespins.

When I am back home and I find those new things instead of the old ones my heart aches. It happens every single time. I long for the old objects (even the simplest ones), I long for  the old pace and the old routines. I long for the person my mother used to be... even when I adore the person who is right now.

After almost three years, I still feel new to this situation,  I still feel new to my role because I haven't come to this place and position (according to which I am responsible for taking care of my mother and for supervising her caregivers) till recently. After almost three years I still feel new to those feelings, to this new way of living which indeed it is not.

I know this is not bad, that thanks to all this she (and my brother) are having such a peaceful and joyful time. I know that it is only a new stage which is different from the former one but not worse, that it has its own beauty.

I know it... but my heart (which is new at it) experiences a dull pain every time I have to tackle a new change. My silly, silly heart cringed when saw a lonely wooden clothespin almost forgotten among the plastic ones.

And even so, I opted for capturing the bright, blue intruder because it is the sign of the new order of things. And I honor it.

I honor it.

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 588

in {and out} Week 23: Sweet

My mother loves candies. I remember her telling me countless times along my childhood: come on girl, let´s sweeten life a bit!. Back then sugar wasn't considered a poison and my mother enjoyed sweet foods without regrets (she still does). But I was not sweet-toothed, so this is not one of the pleasures we have shared.

Regardless of this, when I was taking this photo the last time I visited her, I got lost in memories related to this topic. This is not strange, I am still waiting to see my dear mom refusing a candy at least once. On the other hand, her love for chocolate is legendary and has generated many anecdotes throughout the years that are already part of our family story.

However, among those memories, I  also found some that are not related to her fondness for these treats, to the wonderful cups of hot chocolate she usually prepared or to the candies she made with melted sugar (which was beautifully brittle once cool), but are -even so- an inseparable part of my childhood.

I remembered her telling me: Look how beautiful!, while she was holding a simple piece of crystalline sugar. Look how precious!, while she was showing me the wrapper of a filled-chocolate. Look how charming!, while she was caressing a can of biscuits. Look how lovely!, while she was contemplating a box of fine chocolates... or a bottle of perfume or a embroidered handkerchief or a strawberry or the section of a mandarin orange or the petal of a flower or a piece of fabric.

Look!. What an amazing verb!. What an impressive advice and wonderful training!. I had never thought about it that way, I had never thought that it was a powerful lesson when indeed it was.

I don´t know exactly why this photo made me change my mind regarding this issue. Maybe it happened because early in the morning, after giving my mother the bag of striped candies, she placed one of them on her hand's palm, looked at me and said: Look, how pretty!...  and I realized that her simple gesture was the quintessence of beauty’s appreciation.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 587

in {and out} Week 22: Heat

The heat started this year the same day she passed away or at least, this is my perception. Along the previous months, every time I was thinking about that possibility, I felt the heat. I don't know exactly why... maybe due to the diagnose, maybe because deep inside I knew she wouldn't live too much, maybe because regardless of all those facts, I had the hope that she would be able to live the first months of the summer, that I would be able to enjoy her company a few weeks more.

But my dear, dear, friend crossed to the other side of this existence a few days before the season would have officially started. That same day I felt a real heat and it was a foretaste of the solstice that was coming... the first solstice without her presence here.

I was not ready to start a new summer, not after all the things I have had to live this first semester of the year, not after losing most of the certainties I used to have. Not after having relinquished to the old sense of continuity. Not without this so loved friend (and the another sweet friend I lost at the beginning of the year and my precious cat who left me less than two months ago).

I was angry with the blue sky that shined brighter than ever before just the day after I had to say goodbye. World, people and in particular, this planet seemed so impassive to me!. She was not here anymore, but the heat continued its relentless progress and I felt it was detestable.

However, one morning I woke up very early. The day was starting and it was quite fresh and after opening the kitchen's window I paid attention (for the very first time in days) to the big firmament and I felt amazed. I forgot my pain for a second, I understood life and death from the viewpoint of this old mother earth and I felt released. I appreciated the pristine atmosphere and I thought of my dear friend who would have liked to delight in a morning like that once more time. I took a deep breathe and smiled for a second.

I know she had to go. I know it was the right moment (if this moment exists) because she couldn't keep living in so much pain (and she didn't want to). I had the incredible privilege of meeting her (I was only twenty five years old back then) and of having gone with her along her illness and I am thankful for this but I am going to miss her wonderful soul my whole life.

I still cry a lot but from that moment in front of the kitchen's window I have started to remember all the beautiful things we lived together...  and to reconcile with the heat, with myself and my presence here.

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 586

in {and out} Week 21: Abstract

The way that my photos and my texts mix together to create a consistent unit doesn't change very much every time I undertake this task but it never ceases to amaze me.

I often start with the capture of the image without a preconceived idea in mind about how the final result should be. I only prepare a scene (if I had to respond to this challenge) or let my eye leads me to what can be interesting or appealing and I play with the factors that are at my disposal. Even when I have to promote this mood consciously in the rest of my life, in this specific area it comes to me naturally… maybe because I feel in my element while creating.

Later on, the image suggests me a text that can be related to some recurrent themes or to something completely new. It can happens while I am taking the photo, along the post-processing or when I look at the final product, but I always can feel how a budding story line tries to emerge, how words that share a common thread come to my mind and I prepare myself to express it in writing.

All this process can be quick or can take more time depending on many aspects of it. This time, while I was shooting one picture after another, I was mainly concerned by emphasizing lines, shapes and colors rather than specific forms in order to create an abstract image. It was being a bit challenging but even so, while I was manipulating objects trying new compositions and new ways to focus the lens of the camera, a tiny, incipient, story started to develop.

Seashells were part of my childhood. Not only because I grew up by the sea, but because my father was an avid collector before my birth. In a given moment he got rid of his collections (I don't know exactly why) but there were some pieces at home and my mother preserved it after he passed away.

Looking at this image I can see the abstract creation that the challenge required and also, an abstraction of those early years because it somehow show how his passing (when I was only five years old) affected our lives and in particular, my life.

His death, all the unresolved issues that he left behind (that nobody, not even my mother, knew how to tackle at least not in a healthy way) and the resulting consequences, undermined many things inside me. It was not an immediate event, it happened gradually and insidiously. When I reached adult age I felt totally eroded inside regardless of what might be observed from outside. All the emptiness created by what I had to lose to survive, was filled with anger, and pain and fear.

I had to confront my past to take them outside and now I have all those charming nooks and hidden holes, all those odd angles and unexpected edges. I am learning to appreciate their beauty because it is the only way I have to move forward. 

I am learning to keep them clean, to let the wind and the light go through them, because I don't want them to be blocked again with the anger (or pain or fear) that still come to meet me when life becomes hard. 

I am learning to stay present and in the present, to stop revisiting the past and let go the “whys”, because there is nothing more to analyze, nothing more to be unraveled. 

In short, I am learning to focus on the things I have to complete, on the built-in issues that my story has: patience, tolerance, forgiveness, playfulness, dreams, acceptance… instead of on my need to make things better through demanding (and self-demanding) attitudes.


I am learning... 

I am just learning.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 585

in {and out} Week 20: Yellow

Often the simplest solution can be the best one. Simplicity is a good ally of logical reasoning, of functionality, decision making and problem solving... not to talk about planning, but we insist on forgetting it.

This tendency has to do with the way we have been brought up,  with all the bad habits of the educational system and -obviously- with our ego's vices. This makes us prone to think that simplicity and naturalness don't make a good impression in others and we rather opt for a rehearsed complication.

As an analytical introvert and part of an academic institution which praises affectation and can obscure the easiest things, I have been a very good friend of complexity.

But once I started my inner work simplicity gained relevance... maybe because all the sources I checked considered it extremely important, in fact, it seemed to be an article of faith. To be honest, in the very beginning I found this kind of veneration ridiculous, whys should I choose it when I could opt for intricate thoughts, answers or strategies?.

But I persevered (probably because I also found the concept intriguing) and one day I went across Zen Buddhism and I acknowledged that I had found a tailor-made philosophy. Simplicity started to pervade my thoughts and my way of feeling:

 What could be more appealing than keeping it easy in the presence of life?
What could be more poignant than staying bare, pure while feeling bewildered?
What could be more impressive than acting with ease regardless of paradoxes and confusions?.

Little by little, I started to accept its significance and I realized that it was the ultimate sophistication. I also understood something that before I hadn't even conceived: simplicity is not a response in the face of an entangled life, it is a way to make evident that life is much more simpler than we like to think, it is foreseeable and comprehensible and clear as long as we don't want to change it.

This has been a great lesson. Even so, my old fondness for labyrinthine alternatives still reappears from time to time. Tiny relapses, you know… so I've been a bit embroiled in rambling thoughts about this entry of the project. And then, one morning, two words came to my mind: Lemon Yellow. And these two words clarified it all.

 The simpler, the better.

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 584

in {and out} Week 19: Antique

The last time I visited my mother, I brought the camera with me. I was thinking of taking some photos of a very old and beautiful porcelain pitcher that she inherited from her mother. I prepared the scene on my bedroom's bedside table and shot a few photos when I realized that I needed something else to improve the composition. I remembered having seen a box of old postcards inside my closet. I knew that my mother had put it there and it contained postcards that we had bought along some travels, visits to museums and so on. When I found it, I noticed that there was another box under it, I opened it and it was full of papers that actually were mementos of my time in the high school. There were also lots of letters sent by me to my mother during my first year at university.

I opened the antiquated envelopes and there I found sheets and sheets filled with my handwritten words. I glanced at some of them and read some paragraphs here and there, taking time to enjoy the wording, to analyze the way I used the terms to express what I was living or report my mood and suddenly,  I realized that I was witnessing the emergence of my adult being: I could feel the dreams of a better future, the concerns, the need to accomplish and to have control;  my determination to be independent and to be conventional, predictable, reliable in order to achieve approval; the way I was taking charge of my life, of my sentiments and of other's responsibilities... the way I was trying to fulfill other's expectations... the way early experiences and conditionings were starting to take a toll on my life.

I was only eighteen years old when I wrote them but the person who I would become was already there surrounded by naivety and joy and hopeful anticipation and wishful thinking. All the things mentioned above would result in highly self-demanding attitudes in the following years. They would result in excellence, in sadness and sorrow, in lack of boundaries and in the admission of abusive behaviors. In short, in the attempt to repress my true self.

I can hardly relate to this antique being that was arising from my infancy and has lived with me till recently. I cannot relate to the child I was, either. I can hardly relate to the way I behaved or to many of my priorities. I cannot feel anymore the heavy burden that I was always carrying or the sense of not belonging here with its dull pain. In fact, all this seems to have fallen into disuse. All this seems to pertain to an ancient era.

Of course, I remember the good moments, I celebrate the learnings, I cherish my strength, I treasure the love and guidance that have supported me and made me evolve and I appreciate my path. I can see also a common or unifying thread going through all my story, that helps me to identify what has been (and is) true and authentic in my life, my genuine self... but most of what I found in those letters (except for this unshakable thread which is made of faith and creativity and trust and passion and connection) belongs to a bygone era and as it is said: let bygones be bygones.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 583

in {and out} Week 18: Big

All the indoors photos of this project are mainly taken inside my house and using items that I already have, so when the time to approach this theme came, I thought I would come out of the challenge well, but I hadn´t thouhgt of something: I don´t like big things.

I do not like sumptuous objects or flamboyant details. I don´t like exaggerated ornaments or personal accessories (except for rings, sun-glasses and handbags). I love all things small. In fact, there are many things that I find too huge for my taste maybe because I feel that little scales and sizes intimidate me less.

This is not only evident regarding house decoration or my personal image, it also becomes obvious when I look at my photos or my collages, even my doodles and the outlines and diagrams I usually give to my students are filled with tiny details. I need to create precise and meticulous compositions and an accurate work. This makes me diligent and methodical but also exigent and –from time to time- maybe too much punctilious.

However when it comes to another kind of things, I don´t feel the same:

I don´t fail to see the big picture (even when I can be focused on details).

I like big stories, big challenges and big emotions. I admire big hearts, big smiles, big trees and big cities. I adore big libraries and book stores.

I like feeling a big fondness for little moments of wonder and a big love for this life. I like having big ideas and knowing more about this big wide world. And those who are big enough to overcome their story, forgive and make the most of their experiences in order to have a meaningful existence.

And of course, I love big cups of tea!, whether in rainy or sunny days.

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 582

in {and out} Week 17: Flowers

I am almost a newcomer to photography. My husband always thought that I could develop my creativity through it, but I only started to contemplate that possibility after having my first digital camera and taking an on-line class about self-portraiture (almost by chance). Once that happened, I began to explore the world around me with the camera in my hand and I realized that I just loved it. 

Photography has been a delightful activity along the last four years, it has helped me to improve my inner work which is quite important to me, but it has also permitted me to figure out how my creative mind works.

When I was young  I aspired to develop an artistic career (something that I never did), so I though a lot about what I should create and always the same type of things came to my mind: something impressive, complex or very profound from an intellectual point of view. But when I started to create I wasn´t able to make something like that. I created things that were symbolic and very detailed, precise, well executed and even imaginative but not intense or dramatic. Professors encouraged me to develop my talent but I simply couldn´t believe in it. I concluded that I had not what an artist needs and this (along with another issues) prevented me to look for specialized training. I kept creating but I choose to study education instead of arts.

When I started to take photos on a regular basis,  soon I felt drawn to certain kind of images and compositions. And soon, my prejudices about the advisability of that approach arose. I wanted to take street photos, black and white portraits, images that would reveal hidden aspects of society but once again I was caught up in contradictory feeling.  My mind wanted to try all that,  but my heart was fascinated with simple scenes of the domestic life, with little graces of everydayness and often fell victim to nature´s charms.

A voice inside my mind shouted for pain every time I took a photo following my heart.  After every click of the camera´s release, I had to listen: "Flowers, birds and cups of tea again, seriously?", but I was overflowing with joy and my creativity was increasing, so I learnt to ignore it, something I was not able to do when I was much younger. This allowed me to explore and refine my style and to admit that I am a person oriented to understand the whole picture through the close examination of all its details.

Now I don´t refuse to be who I am. I  pay attention to what often gets unnoticed, appreciate what is part of my daily life and compose using average items. I try to highlight the extraordinary in the ordinary, I like little things and I have come to accept that  I prefer to capture a fallen leave that a whole forest, an almost withered flower that a whole sophisticated bouquet. 

Through all this process I have brought to light what my soul needs (literally and figuratively) to grow -regardless of the resistance of my mind and my ego- and therefore, I have learnt to appreciate what I love to capture.

 I have learnt to appreciate what is unexceptional and unremarkable; myself and the life I live;  the mundane and the humble trifles that make my life easier, and much more joyful.

I have learnt not to expect what is unusual or striking to be happy and to honor the unexpected beauty that always find when I go over my path.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 580

in {and out} Week 16: Spring Selfie

I´ve been wearing mostly black, since January. In fact, during all these months I have only worn black or grey sweaters with jeans or black leggings; black jackets and anoraks;  black high leg boots with high heels, flat short boots or ankle boots; black, ochre or grey scarves and black or tortoiseshell sunglasses. The only exception to this rule has been a coat with a subtle animal print, silvery or golden accessories and pearls. I´ve been doing that not only because I felt very sad after some important losses, a few unfortunate events and many changes, but because I needed to feel strong and confident and and black always makes me feel this way, it´s good for me.

I think this fixation has its origins in my early life. When I was a girl, black was not considered an adequate color for kids. It was too formal or too gloomy but I always found it appealing. It was the color of grief, it´s true: the image of persons dressed in mourning is part of my childhood -in particular, widows-, but it also symbolized sophistication, elegance, allure and even certain intellectualness and a rebellious mood (at least, to me). So, as soon I could, I started to wear it and I felt much more refined and worldly-wise than I really was.

As a result, this color is a sort of thermometer that allows me to measure my mood. When I am happy and in high spirits, when reaffirming myself is not important and my charm and grace don´t concern me, when I feel strong enough and self-reliant, when I deal with life at ease and I am accepting it with joy... in short when I am well-balanced,  most of my black clothes stay inside my wardrobes. But if the need arises, I know I can always resort to them.

This time I thought I wouldn’t be able to stop wearing them. Talking with my mother a month ago or so, I mentioned this to her and she guaranteed me that the joy would be back now and again, even after her time to leave me come (she said). Her argument was plain and convincing: not one person would have survived if this were not true. I knew she was right (she had to confront the death of her husband, her mother, a sister and a brother apart from many other emotional losses within five years), so I prepared myself to wait.

As my mother predicted, joy is returning to my life little by little this spring. And so calm and acceptance are doing. When a week ago, I was a bit reluctant to wear black, I knew that it was the definitive sign of readjustment I had been waiting for. I still don´t feel like wearing very spring-like outfits, I still need black to go out there... specially to work, but when I go for a relaxed walk or while I am quiet at home with my journals I choose vibrancy. I choose faith. I choose hope.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 579

in {and out} Week 15: Water

My mother always had quite a green thumb. Her skills at growing plants were mostly intuitive (or learnt from her ancestors) and it provided her much pleasure. As a result, I grew up seeing her enjoying this activity. We lived in an isle without much water and without gardens, neighbors grew their plants in pots and they placed them all over their houses including the patios that traditionally were full of them. 

One of the things I remember is the amazing variety of containers that one could find in a single place. There were the usual clay pots, often profusely (and even extravagantly) decorated and any kind of repurposed stuff depending on the imagination (and needs) of the owners.

I also remember the lush vegetation, the splash of green indoors -when outdoors all were black and brown and blue and white- that made everyone be deeply aware of the great importance of water.

And last but not least, I remember the liking for exchanging cuttings. My mother was very fond of this, she loved to gather pieces such roots, branches or leaves to start new plants and she kept her fondness even after our move to a bigger isle where we could buy plants, seeds, peat moss, fertilizer etc.

When I was I child this attitude often embarrassed me. When I was a teen it simply drove me crazy. No matter where we were, if she was seeing a plant that she wanted to have, my mother gently asked for a cutting, she took a spotless white handkerchief of her handbag (often with a tiny lace or a subtle embroidery) and wrapped the cutting with it while smiling. Regardless of my annoyance, back home I shared her enthusiasm and along the following days I contemplated amazed the growing roots through the glass of the mason jars where she usually placed them.

When I left my mom´s house and started to have my house, I was too involved in my own matters and my professional career to recognize the worth of all those experiences. I bought a plant from time to time and tried to do my best to keep it alive but I was not present enough to achieve that goal. As time passed, I stopped having plants at home.

This saddened my mother. She could not understand why they were not important to me, why being her daughter (coming from where I come from) I was not able to appreciate their beauty and master the use of water that was –according to her opinion- the only secret to growth healthy plants… but I can be very resistant, so I persevered in my refusal to have plants.

However, a year ago or so, I decided to give them a new chance. I only have a few, but I am seing how the knowledge, tricks and odd habits of my mother are emerging. Now I understand better that attention is important; I am learning to respect and thank water and not to take life for granted. I also love to collect cuttings (!) and I treat them as she used to do: I display them beautifully and I wait impatient to the first sign of something new.

And when this happens, I told it to my mother who still loves plants (although she cannot take care of them personally) and expect her almost unnoticeable sigh of joy when she gets ready to give me some wise advice. Then I close my eyes and feel her beautiful energy once again. 


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 577

in {and out} Week 14: Spring

Spring has come so timely this year!. 

You may say that spring always starts the same day and it´s true, but I mean that spring has been very welcome in this moment of my life. The start of the year was a hard winter to me, not only meteorologically speaking, but from an emotional point of view. I had to go through some devastating losses and as result, I felt not only terribly sad and tired but also, totally away from what usually inspires me: I only wanted to cease from all activity.

What I was feeling was not that alien to me, but I had always struggled against that state of mind setting new goals, and this time I simply couldn´t find enough energy to do it. I felt bewildered, disconcerted (and so the persons around me were). I felt that I was going to fall into despair, that I would go deep into a hopeless land but one only things happened: stillness… a vast, stunning stillness. It could have led me to a definitive listlessness but surprisingly, created room for reflection and allowed me to connect with my true essence.

Retrospectively, I can see that during this challenging time I didn´t force myself to make things, to start new complex projects or to stay busy (this would have been me my strategies in previous stages of my life). I just stood still and this –paradoxically- created renovation. I permitted myself to be embraced by this concrete process and that made me realize how much I force myself to do things that I really don´t want to do.

Benevolence to myself was a sort of light blinking in the darkness that presaged the termination of my winter. Finally, it has come to an end and accidentally (or maybe not) it has coincided with the end of the solstice.

Right now I want to get lost in this promising spring, stay open to new intuitions and strengthen the flood of life and joy that I feel inside me... but I am not going to do it hastily. I am going to penetrate into this sweet spring on tiptoe, softly, slowly (yet steadily) till I find the propitious soil to keep growing and plentifully flourish.

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 575

in {and out} Week 13: Easter

I have thought much about this entry of the project. I am not a religious person, I was not raised to be practicing, even when my mother was it, so I have never felt compelled to follow any creed although I deeply respect those who do have those beliefs.

This made difficult to find a right approach to this theme since Easter is itself a Christian celebration and I live in a place with important Judeo-Christians (and specifically Catholic) traditions. In the very beginning, I didn´t feel comfortable with illustrating the rituals that rule this time of the year according to some fixed ecclesiastical patterns, I preferred a more secular interpretation, so I explored other possibilities.

I considered many other aspects of Easter in order to write about them, moreover I also thought of playing with a more delightful imagery. In the end, painted eggs and lovely bunnies are much sweeter than Our Lady of Sorrows or the Death of Jesus upon the Cross. However I always ended up thinking about crucifixion and resurrection, not only because all this is part of the shared story with my mother and part of my culture, but because all this truly appeals to my spiritual side.

So after forgetting some of my reluctance to embrace this point of view, after letting go some of my preconceived ideas about myself and, in particular, about how I like to show up here… after doing all those things and more, in the Good Friday, I headed for a church and stayed there for a while.

The atmosphere was really stunning and strikingly peaceful. The light, the silence, the flowers, the beauty, the messages about salvation and redemption, about rebirth and forgiveness, about love and kindness spoke loud and clear to my soul. I find hard to share many parts of Christian doctrine or Catholic liturgy, and I think I have prejudices about organized religions (most of them related to bigotry, intolerance, abuses or falseness) but I resonated with the essence of the message nevertheless.

Sitting there, quite and tranquil, free from harm, I realized how lucky I am to have had the chance to know about all this as a child, without being pressured into adopting any religious faith. I too realized how clever my mother was by doing things that way. Her mindset made me free to explore my spiritual side without restrictions (I had not the sense that I was abandoning anything), to welcome new perspectives and viewpoints when the right moment came but, at the same time and maybe paradoxically, it helped me to go depth into it without fear, just because I was already aware of being spiritual despite my preferences, behaviors, experiences or attitudes, my mistakes and my wise choices, the sense of unease or my erratic pace.

And sitting there, quite and tranquil, free from harm, I gave thanks.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 574

in {and out} Week 12: Books

Books have been with me since I can remember and reading is no doubt, one of my favorite activities ever. Indeed, once I learned how to do it, I haven´t stopped. Regardless of life circumstances, hectic schedules or overwhelming responsibilities,  I always have books at hand.

I read poetry, essays and novels of different types or on different subjects (just as a hobby) and I guess I have many habits and peculiarities that are typical of avid readers: I am truly faithful to some authors and I think of some characters as they were real persons. I am prone to imagine alternative situations to those which are part of the plot. I adore reading series of books with the same main protagonists and expect anxiously every new installment. I remember their stories, suffer with their conflicts and feel pleased with their successes. I often question the author (or characters) decisions along a novel and I usually discover myself being reluctant to accept some endings or to read the final chapter... in particular, when I have fallen in love with the story.

I could go on and on and on, but I´ll only mention one last thing: when it comes to books themselves, I feel a strong attachment to them as physical objects. The reason why this happens is not only because they allow me to go inside a parallel universe just opening them (this is captivating per se!), but because I find them extremely beautiful. I adore their appearance, their smell, their presence and as a result I love having them around me.

In fact, apart from ejoying the pleasures of reading, I also enjoy very much arranging and rearranging my books in beautiful -yet practical- ways, making them part of the decoration of my house, mixing and matching them creatively. I don´t like the traditional libraries where books seem to be inanimate items put in alphabetical order. On the contrary, I love to display them, creating little altars or still lifes.

Books have been (still are) an important part of my existence, of who I am. I have discovered, laughed and cryed much with them, they have been my wings and my roots, my friends, my solace in sorrow and an endless source of joy... so I cannot help but honor this relationship by making them visible.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 573

in {and out} Week 11: Blue

When I started this path I found many advices about the great importance of getting rid of mess disorder, complications etc.

Once I understood the concept, I realized that it went beyond being organized, and insisted on the dangers of continuous accumulation and also, that it was related not only to a physical aspects, but also to emotional and psychological dimensions.

I soon connected it with my personal grow and acknowledged its links with the healing process that I was trying to develop so I added this idea to my inner work. I, little by little, started to check different areas of my life and believe me, I was amazed by the things I discovered.

I found out, behaviors, attitudes and thoughts that were not useful anymore. Old preconceived ideas and beliefs -that once were part of my life- haven´t been discarded and stayed active creating a distorted perspective. I had many prejudices about myself and about how things should be, which were essential in previous stages and had become obstacles. And I uncovered an ancient anger that was undermining all my creative, vital energy.

All that stuff was the material of which my surviving was made; indeed it was part of the strategies I built up in order to deal with my wounds and some traumatic events, but those remaining scraps were just causing weakness and was creating confusion.

While I was focusing my efforts on this analysis, I also discovered the strong link between those patterns and the more tangible (and visible) accumulation and I noticed that if I wanted to cleanse some blockages and accomplishing some goals I had to clear my entire life.

I went through my wardrobes, my drawers and any corner of my home and what I saw clarified not only that link, but also the fact that it went in both directions. As a result, changes in both fronts (inside and outside) were needed.

I accepted that I had to free myself of unwanted or unpleasant things and issues but I realized that I wouldn´t be able to approach that process if I did not accept that I was a true (yet not systematic) collector.

I collected memories, scenes of the past (even when they could be painful), dreams no matter if they were obsolete or unfeasible, fragments of conversations and feelings that could drive me to a concrete moment of my life. I had a great yearning for the past that could have been and did not exist. And last, but not least, I collect any kind of objects, many related to my story, many that tried to evoke the life I wanted.

Becoming aware of this makes also clear that I had to have rule that could help me to distinguish what should be relinquished and what should be kept, because I simply didn´t want to start totally anew.

My rule is extremely simple, and I continue to use it till today: all things (tangible or immaterial) that generate pain, bewilderment self-deception, stagnation, negation... connect me with senses of self-disdain, invalidation, anger and self-pity,  or make me reject my life and my story must be abandoned (or transformed). All things (tangible or immaterial) that promote joy, acceptance, clarity, creativity, a sense of belonging and of being loved, the need to surrender to the present moment, authenticity, generosity and hope, must be preserved. 

I apply it in daily basis and it works. It has led me to give up some obsessions and dear possessions, to radically alter my life and my surroundings, to reinforce (or look for) only what creates beauty inside and around me, what makes me better, what makes me free, what makes me happy.

Color blue, two teapots each of one holds a story, one of my journals, a tiny cup (the only survivor of a group of six), an old serviette made by my mother and a simple, peaceful gaze may seem not to be that important but they allow me to be who I really want to be.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project.