This year has been a hard year. So too was the year before it. I will not lie and say it otherwise, will not sugar-coat it and tell you only of the highlights, the montage-worthy moments, the bits of grace and light that did come, sure, but good gracious were they juxtaposed against an altogether different backdrop.
To be an artist, to chase down that life, to carve it from the hard marble of reality, is a tough thing. No one will tell you the opposite, not even those who have enjoyed unbelievable success, not those who have the freedoms to practice that art freely, without the worry so many others carry. They too will tell you of the struggle involved to arrive where they arrove (I know it’s not a word, but dammit it should be and it makes sense).
For Sarah and I, in truth it’s been a really, massively, terrifyingly tough time financially since Covid. I tell you this because I tell you everything, because I know no other way than honesty, and we can blame my Autism, my enduring believe that truth is all that really matters, or anything you like, but I tell you this because right now, a few short days from another Thanksgiving holiday in these United States, I need to tell you this to highlight something else…we’ll get to that.
Yes, it’s been a massive financial struggle, one that I’m altogether familiar with since I decided at age 16 that I really wasn’t cut out for a ‘normal’ job with a boss and a schedule and times I had to do things or not to do things and a place I had to drive to or leave for or worry about the bathroom situation about. I knew I had words in me, I knew my eyes saw images that other people’s eyes might not see, and I knew I wanted a life doing this. Some years since then have been great ones, some have made me money that made me slightly less scared, some have taken me on journeys I never saw coming. Some, did not. Some were hard. Lots, were hard.
I tell you of these years because it is a scary thing never knowing where your next paycheck will come from, not knowing if the bills you owe will be met without dipping into the savings I’m lucky enough (and truthfully, was thankfully wise enough to pour money into) to have. Where we used to book dozens and dozens of weddings to photograph each year, now it’s much quieter. Where I used to sell signed Typewriter Series prints by the hundreds and thousands, now, it’s much quieter. I know there are seasons to this life, I know there are seasons to the interests of those around us, and I understand, but goodness, it’s still scary.
Still though, while nestling in to write this Signal Fire, something else dawned on me, something pretty profound that I didn’t really see coming, as Thanksgiving is a holiday I generally loathe. For further proof of this, read either
or
and you’ll hear precisely my thoughts on the last Thursday of November.
This time though, I really was hit with an emotion of a different flavor, one that’s more on-brand with what we’re told this holiday is actually about. Gratitude. Last year I wrote about the deep and vital need to feel this gratitude, not just for the joys, the beautiful things, but for the whole spectrum of this human existence. I called it We Must Be Grateful, and you can read it by clicking it below.
This year, I just wanted to simplify, I wanted to make a little list, to enumerate the things, both high and low, that I AM thankful for, that I do feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for. I wanted to honor them, for I think we forget to do this nowadays, at least most of the time. We forget our parents voices in our young ears encouraging us to “count our blessings,” and we forget to make the lists that remind ourselves.
I will start, and I hope you will follow. If not here, if not sharing, I hope you will make a list for yourself, and I hope you’ll hang it up somewhere as a reminder. Gratitude for where we find ourselves is therapeutic, it is calming, and it provides a centering that too often, I fear we lack. Here, are some things I am thankful for this year, and some might surprise you:
The Struggle - Yeah, it’s been financially terrifying, yeah our income is down and we have kids about to go to college and we have no idea how we’re gonna book more weddings or convince more of you to sign up for this Signal Fire to keep it running, but you know what, we’ve also learned what we can do without, what we’re completely comfortable not having, not doing, not owning. What a gift.
You, all of you - The fact that some of you help keep this place going with your monthly subscription blows my mind, still, but you know what, that’s not what I mean when I say I am thankful for you, and all of you (though I am OVER THE MOON THANKFUL for those of you who do, in fact, subscribe). I mean, I am thankful for ALL of you being here, reading these words, validating the fact that something about this strange voice I have is worth reading, listening to, showing up for. The support you show not only me, but everyone else here, is astonishing. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.
Liverpool Football Club - Loving some silly team playing some silly sport with a silly ball in a silly Premier League is fulfilling, it’s anchoring, and it lets your heart thump for something so entirely out of your control.
Health - It’s not all been rosy, not all been easy, especially with the world’s worst health insurance (hello $18,000 deductible!) but you know what, for the most part, all those I love are healthy right now, are living a life not completely saddled by the fear that comes when illness sneaks in, and for that, I am breathlessly thankful.
Growing Older - A strange one, but these last few years, this one in particular, has highlighted the beauty that is allowing yourself to grow even more comfortable with yourself as you age. Wear what you like, stop trying to keep up with the trends, be comfortable, take no shit, give out love. The true gift of aging is the grace that comes when you stop trying to be what you never were.
Gilly - The Covid impulse dog that transformed our lives and opened our hearts to more love than I ever thought an animal could. He’s kindness, gentleness, tenderness, and yes, neediness, all perfectly anthropomorphized into a single living being. He also looks like a teddy bear, and snuggles just like one. I don’t think we have any idea just how massive an impact he has on our days. Thankful isn’t even the start.
Family - Immediate and extended. From Adela’s strength, stubbornness, and fierce independence, to Henry’s patience, curiosity, and determination, to the friendship has continue to blossom with both sets of our parents, to my sister’s and their amazing husbands and wonderful children I am so lucky to call myself Uncle for, to the two little miracle babies and their stunning mothers, that I helped our magical friend’s Krysti and Sabrina have, to friendships scattered across a planet that I call family and would stand toe-to-toe against anyone who says otherwise. I am so lucky to be surrounded by family.
Businesses-a-Plenty - Between Sarah and I, we own and operate a few businesses all wrapped up into one giant idea: That we’re here to be something different to those that work with us. From Chasers of the Light Photography, that specializes in intimate weddings and destination elopements all over the planet, to this Signal Fire, and the beautiful community, to
that proves that even something like sourdough bread can be done with such a level of care and grace that everyone, everywhere, wants to get in on the act. We’re lucky to run all of these, and as slow as business has been, as hard as it’s been to re-learn how to market ourselves effectively, we’ve spent YEARS on these little babies of ours. I am proud of all we have done.Lady Gregson - I’ll wrap this public part up for now, and I’ll wrap it up with the only way I know how. Her. Everything started with her, it will end, in that endless next beyond, with her. She keeps me grounded when I float away, she lets me soar when I’ve the taste for flying. She allows me the space to be precisely who I am, but always helps me grow into something more. She is calm when I am chaos, she is a whirlwind of a mess when I am cleaning up, and I Love her for this. She is grace, and peace, and kindness that is bottomless in a way nothing else is, the trench of compassion and empathy that exists at the bottom of every other trench above it. She is fire and passion and tenderness and optimism and love. That’s it, in the end, she is love, love as it was meant to be when invented out of nothing, love as it could be if we stopped caring more about ourselves than we do others. She is love, and she is my love, and I am thankful in a way that eclipses the gratitude for all those listed before it, all those that could come after. Her. Always her.
I hope you enjoy your Thanksgiving, I hope you write out your lists and number them and call them sacred things. Hang them, read them again and again when you feel all things might be on the edge of lost. Let them be the sandbags that gently lower your balloon back to earth.
Happy Thanksgiving in the days to come.
I am thankful, so very thankful.
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