Making Space: A Different Kind of Consistency
The weather didn’t cooperate this month. Days and days of rain, with barely a break. And on top of that, life got BIG. Emotionally. Personally. Relationally. Not unmanageable, but definitely consuming in that way that throws off your rhythm.
I haven’t missed many days with Explore IT, but I haven’t been consistent either. Some days I had to set it aside. Other days I tried, really tried, but the hoop kept falling. Literally and metaphorically. The image didn’t land, or the moment passed too quickly. It wasn’t always the right setting, or the right light, or the right feeling.
But here’s what I held on to: this project has never been about perfection. It’s about presence. About returning. About building psychological flexibility. Not just for clients, but for myself.
That’s something I work on in practice every day. Through DBT, through CBT, through ACT. Teaching how to be with discomfort. How to shift gears when emotions get loud. How to make room for reality while still honoring your values. Noticing. Choosing. Adjusting.
That’s what happened for me, too.
When the images weren’t coming together, I stopped trying to force them. Instead, I got outside and started digging. Literally. There were these huge, tangled, almost-dead bushes that had taken up too much space for too long. I pulled them out. It took effort, time, and patience. Then I replanted. Something new. Something I chose. And that felt right.
That is the essence of CBT: challenging patterns that no longer serve. That is ACT: acting in line with your values even in the face of discomfort. That is DBT: skillfully tolerating distress and doing the next wise thing.
And Explore IT has never been something I did alone.
It has always been shared. With assistants. With people I meet along the way. With those joining the project in their own way. What felt especially meaningful this time was how often I turned toward those younger voices around me. I invited them to engage, to notice, to hold the hoop. I let them handle it themselves so they could see what was right in front of them in a new way.
The conversations we had, both big and small, were some of the most meaningful parts of the project for me. Watching young minds look up instead of check out. Calling them artists. Watching them begin to see themselves that way.
My photos have always reflected nature. Trees. Sky. Shadow. Water. But in the moments that mattered most lately, it was the shadows of those closest to me, or the people themselves, that ended up inside the hoop. That reminded me that people are part of nature too. Relationship is its own ecosystem. Community is something we grow, tend to, and return to.
So no, this wasn’t a month of perfect consistency. But it was a month of meaningful practice.
As Explore IT wrapped up yesterday, I am carrying forward the reminder that returning counts. Practice can be flexible. We can engage deeply, even when it looks different than we planned. We can move in and out of rhythm and still be connected to the purpose.
Reflective Prompt:
Throughout this project, what found its way into your metaphorical hoop?
What moments, relationships, environments, or emotions did you pause to hold with care? What was unfolding outside of it? What pulled your attention, shaped your experience, or reminded you of what matters—even if it never made the frame?
