Though this photo may be quite plain and nondescript for many, there is something that I really like about it.
I took it last week in my home using my iPhone. What I was first drawn to was the early morning light shining through the door. A new day. A new beginning.
What I realized after is that there are easily a couple dozen artifacts in this picture that represent significant parts of my life.
The Norfolk Pine in the front right, that was my family Christmas tree in 2014. Then, it was decorated with dried lemons and limes, a tradition of simplicity that my kids and I have come to really enjoy.
The Seagull Acoustic Guitar in front of the bookshelf, made in Canada. I got it in 1986 when I’d returned from living two years in Korea. I wanted to learn to play. I think I knew then, just as I do now, that I needed another medium to deal with some feelings.
A valentine card on the bookshelf from my partner. I just want it there.
The many pictures on the wall. They include my kids when they were three and five years old. They include a picture of my Dad as a young boy, me as a young boy. One of my partner and her kids from our 2012 marriage. I love that it is a kind of collage of different images and frames.
There’s a picture of a boy playing ice hockey on a frozen pond in the wheat fields of Alberta. I come from Canada. It was not uncommon for me to skate with friends or anyone at the rink, using boots as goal posts. I come from people and traditions.
The amp that my son uses to play his electric guitar. I gave it to him in 2010 when first moved into this townhouse that I call The Villa, so that we would have music in our home.
The red chew toy in the front left for my dog Shadow, who is now coming up on 12 years old. His face is grayed. His hearing is quite limited. His tail still wags perpetually. He is the kind of dog that prompts the description of “man’s best friend.”
The Cherry desk that comes from my time working with The Berkana Institute and Meg Wheatley. There I met friends and colleagues that remain my most trusted confidants.
And more. Yes, perhaps nondescript, but worth a thousand or more words and a couple dozen powerful associations and memories. Something is important to me in finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.