Where Is She?
Container: that word keeps showing up in my life. This flowerpot contains a pretty, pink-leaved plant my grandson gave me for my birthday, and it contains me. I was wearing a pink shirt the day I took the shot, and it’s there as a smudge of color reflected in the pot’s shine. Can you see me? Do you need to in order to sense my presence?*
For much of my life, I was convinced that my presence was a problem, and I don’t believe I was wrong about that. Effort requires that you make it, and people in my life have done that, but what happens during those times I’m not worth the effort? What message do I pick up from you then?
Absence and presence: these words need another: time. Time to be here. Time to be there. Time to wish you weren’t.
How many seconds, minutes, hours of our lives are we present? How many are we absent?
Absent minded: there’s one label that would have fallen off me a moment after you stuck it on. I’ve tried to lose my mind, but it never stays away for long. It’s like the kitten that was meowing there in the woods across the road, then at my feet, then at my backdoor. Soon enough it was on the back porch, eating a can of tuna I knew I shouldn’t have offered.
My body is a different story. She never goes anywhere. In fact, she’s been with me through thick and thin and has taken better care of me than anyone, but I’ve lived most my life as if I couldn’t be bothered, paying attention only when she starts screaming for it. I’m looking to change that, because I don’t want to live without my body anymore. It’s unfair to both of us. But getting connected and staying that way is not easy, not when most of the danger in your life lived in your body. I know now that it was never a case of her betraying me, but I suppose—at some level, anyway— that’s how it felt.
So, taking a picture of myself when no one can tell I’m in it: that’s an interesting notion and, it turns out, an easy assignment. What if it weren’t?
*Absence is a word that came to me as part of Assignment One of “Photography to Get to Know Yourself,” a class offered by Andana Photography and Personal Development. Lesson One is titled, “Presentation,” and our task is to create a portrait of absence. Consider this, we are told: Is it possible to photograph someone without showing them physically? “Think,” says the voice guiding me through the class. “What kind of photograph would you take to reflect both your absence and your presence?”
