I missed your call...

For those of you waiting for a phone call, this will have to do. I cannot speak on the telephone anymore, as I can't stand losing my voice to choking up. As much as I would want to phone you, please accept this instead. Justin, Shawna, Jon,  Bree, Jenn, Bubsie, Carl & Naomi, Tom & Lynn, Gaia & Remy, Guido, Egon, Joost, Marius, Merelyn, Estelle, Oma, John and Doris, Jon Izzard, Tim, Mike, Stephen, Carol, Diane, Elaine, Tannis & Paul, Gener & Korol, Jill & Boris, Jason, Peter, Ginger, Reg and Lou, Lark, Dennis & Lara, Lee, Sensei Bill, Rene, Barb, Estelle, Slawek, Robin, Vic, Del, Larry, Don, Kari, Amy, Levi, Murray & Natalie, Adrian & Sarah, Pat & Sayeed, Art & Myra, Beth, Alethea, Maureen, Clint, I would love to phone you personally, but I can't. I can't talk about what a change this is, about how different things are, how profound the changes life takes once you look down at a child you created.

Maybe in the next couple of weeks, I might be able to call. Until then, know that I was thinking of you, just couldn't speak, that's all.

Our son Evan was born today.

How to describe the birth of a child, to someone who has never seen it? How to describe the emotional cataclysm that is childbirth, when all you can use is English? I thought a wedding was intense, but I had words for that. This, this is different. I have no words that would effectively describe what has happened in the last 2 days, and so I leave the dear reader with some of the images I captured yesterday, and the day before.

Our son is happy, healthy, and was born with hair. We are very pleased, and relieved that 28 hours of labour are over.

Kees & Tania

You can't go back.

So, I was thinking about progress today. As much as I would like the world to stay as it is, to pause while I live my life in a nice, comfortable pocket, life isn't like that. It never has been. Like an ebbing tide, the world changes in infinitesimal ways, some cataclysmic, and some not, but it is swirls and swishes and flows. And those that choose to ignore it are doomed, because they go against nature. When I reflect back upon the irresistable forces moving forward, I stand in the way of a tsunami. And as Tom Cochrane said, in between ten glorious minutes of guitar solos, "You can't turn back".

Ever try to go back to an ex-girlfriend, or an old job? Ever try to move back to an old town where you had grown up? How did that feel? I'll bet it felt like climbing up a sewer pipe that was emptying into a treatment plant. You're fighting against the flow, instead of moving with it.

So what does that mean? The road to failure leads back the way you came, but where does the road to success lead? For millenia, mankind has looked to mythology for answers, and more importantly, for inspiration. Study the myth of the hero, and you find someone moving forth, encountering adversity, but always advancing. The hero never goes back to his old life as a shepherd or farm hand; he has outgrown that life. And by the same token, someone who stays in one place, doing the same thing they've always done, eventually becomes an object of ridicule because the world understands that people have to advance, to grow, to fulfill their destiny. A twenty-something looks different sitting in a club than a thirty-something does, in a sinister sort of way.

I see this in my art; when I choose to photograph someone in a safe way, in a way I've always done, I move backwards, not forward. It is only when I can face my fears, to advance in the face of critisism or scorn, that I become greater. It is then that I dip deep into the well that is my soul and bring forth what I could be. The critic lives in situations like those, but so does progress. Honestly, I can say that I am mired in the mundane now; it has been months since I felt the thrill of doing something new, or of giving myself permission to fail, in pursuit of success. I feel myself slipping downhill, in my courage and my skills, which are slowly rusting from disuse. It is safer not to try than to muddle around, looking for creativity.

Move forward, always. And if not forward, move laterally; it will feel better than standing still. And if God has led you to the mountain to teach you, don't insult Him by walking down to the valley. Instead, look around, and be open.

Maternity shoot!

Tania and I did our first maternity shoot today; I'm still getting the hang of it, but I think it went well! Love to hear the comments!

The Signs are All Around Us...

Yesterday was a mystical day for me. In preparation for teaching a workshop at the Summerland Art Gallery, I chose a favorite copy of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist as a door prize - a 10th Anniversary edition, in hardcover. Has nothing to do with photography, per se, but everything to do with life, living and pursuing your dreams, and inspiration. During the workshop, we had a wonderful discussion about Paulo Coelho, and I started to muse about omens. An omen is a sign; they tell us when we are on track, and when we are not. Like the proverbial dandilion seeds, when we look at the omens scattered through our lives, we can see whether we are pursuing our dreams, or fleeing them. Having been in full retreat from my dreams in the past, I looked with new wonder at the signs that my dreams are starting to flourish now. I was content.

The workshop went better than expected, and I really felt that I helped everyone understand the basics of digital photography a little better. A day like yesterday helped me to remember that I am moving towards my goals, and they are attainable.

Anniversaries

Yesterday, I celebrated one year with my beautiful bride Tania. We celebrated by eating at a restaurant on the lake, literally on the water, at Okanagan Lake. It was warm enough we could eat outside, listening to the waves, and the occasional boat drive by. It was a perfect evening, and a perfect way to celebrate two soulmates being together. Here's to another 25 years of bliss!

Hannah Jongenelen, 1945 - 2009

Today, I would like to tell the dear readers about Hannah Jongenelen, my stepmother, who passed away on Thursday after a courageous struggle with cancer.

Hannah was one of the most vibrant, strongly optimistic, and independent people I have known. She raised 3 beautiful children on her own, in a time when that just wasn't done. She instilled in them the quality of her character that made them who they are. She was fiercely creative, and her house was filled with color, and with art.

Hannah had an indomitable spirit that inspired the people around her. She made friends easily and quickly, and had a genuine interest in others. Everyone I know who knew her respected her. She accepted me as her 4th child, and we got along very well. She was not afraid to tell me when I was wrong, and also to tell me when I was right.


I credit Hannah for bringing my dad and I closer together. When they were dating, she asked him many questions about his life, and his family, and he realized that he didn't really know that much about me. Since then, we have made efforts to get to know one another better.

There were only two people present when my dad and Hannah were married; myself and her son Guido. Hannah loved Canada, and its wide open spaces; she loved travelling through Jasper National Park, and up to Alaska. She also loved Holland, and enjoyed showing my wife and I the most beautiful parts of Maastricht. She encouraged us to see the city as the locals do, not as tourists but as travellers.

To me, Hannah was an embodiment of that creativity that speaks to those who have the courage to look for it. She was not afraid to say, "This is who I am!" and she lived her life accordingly. She was genuine in all that she did. And I feel richer for having known her.