The light that finds us

beautywalk Sandra Butel coaching light dark photography pomodoro technique positivity self love — *Let the light shine through ...* Photo by Sandra Butel

I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk.

beautywalk is my commitment to finding beauty in the world both outside and inside of me as I step into whatever today has to offer me; humbly, preciously, imperfectly human as I am.

21 days

I am sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the windows at the massive green leaf filled maple tree outside. I can see the potted plants, one that was gifted to me by my sister in law for my birthday and one that I scooped up, held heavy and lush in my hands at the Atwater market when we were 7 days into our new life in our Verdun apartment; so close to the St. Lawrence River and the miles long bike path. Today is Wednesday and tomorrow will mark three weeks since we took ourselves, minimized belongings and maximized expectations, out on the road from Regina to here. 21 days of getting used to a new place, which honestly has not been hard at all, with the new things for our brains to spark with, the many occasions for hanging with people and the reality of how simple it is to move into a new space when you have 10% of your previous possessions left on hand to deal with.

The delight of less to be responsible for and more to look forward to forms the teeter totter of up and down, my arms held open wide, the morning breeze blowing through to tickle my slightly wrinkled skin on its way to someone else.

Puzzling my way through

9 new jigsaw puzzles sit pell mell on the table around me, having been rescued from their previous owners by me on my red slightly scratched up cruiser bike and squirrelled away into a backpack to be carried home. My legs are feeling the repetitive motion, so joyous for me with no sign of my infirmity, legs moving smoothly around and around as I make my way in a life with no car. A life where things need to be planned out, routes mapped and time taken to consider if a 30 minute bike ride and back is too much for my newly minted land legs and I.

The first part of the journey

The first part of the journey is enjoyable, although I do notice with some tone of chagrin, that my fellow cyclists are few and far between as I make my way out into the grey and cool of a Monday. It is such a different experience to bike on the path alone, to not run into groups of joyous picnickers, or beach volleyball players, or friends gathered at the beach for a dip in the cool of the river. I find myself questioning my direction and the South Asian voice of my friend Siri sings up from the pocket of my off red Herschel backpack telling me to “proceed to the route” again and again. I get a little lost and I think at some point I take a turn too quickly, my guide's instructions “take a right onto the path,” ending up not being as big of a turn as one would think, but merely meaning that the bike path curved a little bit to the right.

Wobbly legs

I find myself back in civilization with an IGA in a big mall to my left and construction blocking the bike path and requiring a push with wobbly legs up a hill before getting myself onto the path along the canal. This road is more bumpy, being less used I suppose than the thoroughfare that runs along the banks of the lively Saint Lawrence, and I find that my bum is beginning to protest. I focus back on my hands on the handlebars and will myself to turn away from the negative chatter that fills my head from ear to ear. Chatter about, “being on the wrong path,” or “you pushed yourself too much too quickly,” or “you can’t do this Sandra,” and finally, “Why did you need these fucking puzzles anyways?”

Avoidance tactics

Avoidance tactics, is what Francis calls them last night as we lie side by side in our white covered king sized bed. He says, “You should be good for puzzles for a while, eh?” I reply, “I wonder how long it will take me to go through the 9 of them.” His quip, “Well, it depends how much you are avoiding writing,” drops hard and heavy into the middle of my gut. I am not sure it is visible but my whole body pulls back from where it was finding the ease of re-connection in these stolen moments away from all the plans and jobs and friendly people visiting. I say, “That wasn’t fair.” He replies , “Well, isn’t it true?” Again, I state, “That isn’t kind to say that to me, Francis.” Inside my head, and who knows maybe his too, I hear, “not your task, not your story”. I ask, “How would you feel if I started saying things like that to you about the project you are working on?” He pauses, looks up at the double outlined ceiling and says, “I am sorry. You are right. That was not kind.”

The truth

It is, however, true. Or at least, true enough.

I am writing a book and it is hard and the strategy is to write for 15 minutes a day without fail. 15 minutes focused on the topics that I have listed on my 8 page outline where I mapped out the scenes and conversations that I believe need to be created. 15 minutes of picking a scene and working on it until the timer rings. This is a strategy that has come to me from several places. One is the Pomodoro method which involves a timer shaped like a tomato, 20 minutes of work, and then a break. The other comes from Tania, my counselor, in our last ever session, where she suggests, “Writing your book in 15 minute daily chunks and stopping yourself after 15 minutes have passed.” There is something about this being how she wrote her dissertation and she adds, “This way whatever emotional reaction comes up has a chance to be held in space and time and compassion before you head back into the muck of what was done to you.”

I am inspired for a few days and find myself enjoying the writing time. I always enjoy the writing time.

Darkroom work

It is the voice inside that tells me that no one is ever going to read this or that the sheer volume of words I am creating are going to overwhelm me with their presence and I won’t know how to put them all together into something that resembles a book. This tendency in my creative work feels very familiar.

This is what happened when I used to take my film camera out and shoot things that caught my eye, for their light or shape or colours or the tones that ranged from light to dark. I would close myself into a dark room, newly exposed film precious and fragile as my heart. I would move my hands in such a way, my heart beating loudly at the top of my chest, and the film would soon find itself wrapped around the metal spool and enclosed within the light safe container.

I would turn on the red light and add in the chemicals, the liquid sloshing as I turned my wrist up and down, back and forth for the allotted time, watching the time of the clock count itself down in the quiet of the small room that surrounded me. The rhythm was soothing, like a baby in a crib at the top of the tree being rocked in the breeze, and the fear of the bow breaking was there as I wondered if I had spooled the film on right this time or if I find parts of it stuck together, the images rendered to a dull cloud of nothingness, the hope of what I had seen rendered invisible once again.

I would keep glancing up at the clock, hoping that I had not put in the wrong interval, waiting for the time to pour out the first chemical and pour in the next. I did this process over and over and each time it was about the same. I would lock the door behind me and the voices in my head would get louder and louder as they urged me to run for cover, not wanting me to find out that I had fucked up my precious images yet again. It wasn’t that I actually ruined them that many times but one time or two was enough to fear it each and every time I took what I saw in the world around me and embedded it with care with a click of the camera lens.

Time ran out for each part of the film processing and eventually I would open up the rubberized lid and spool out the wet and transformed film inside it. I would lean my neck to the left and have a quick glance, seeing what the magic of light and transmutation had to offer up in this reversing process. A few days to let the negatives dry and then I would step into the larger dark room, water running, trays filled with liquid transformation, my enlarger set up and waiting to shine the negative through into a positive. Images that I could watch appear in the magic of the subdued light, my fingers caressing in their semi gloved state, my hands resting briefly as my eyes delighted at the dark that appeared on the white surface of the photographic paper.

Then I would go into the panic of what to do with all of these images. Where were they going to find a home? What about all the chemicals I had poured down the drain? I imagined a house full of images, piled from ceiling to floor and not being able to find a place to sit down my tired legs for a rest. I imagined boxes full of unwanted images, proof that whatever I had imagined was like magic on the page, was but another thing to glance at and then away for the busy world around me. This kind of thinking pulled me away from the magical moments of creation; the facing of the unknown, the entering of the dark room and the adding in of the light.

Exposing the negative

Many of these images are now framed up behind me, leaning on the wall, their bottom edges pinned against the chair rail that was installed by some spirit before us. I turn to glance at them, remembering the process from inspiration to exhibition and all the shaky steps in between. I notice the quality of the grain and the contrast from light to dark that is contained within their hand made wooden frames. I remember that even though I loved creating them, I also had to push through a lot of resistance and worry and avoidance to get to the place where they are displayed up behind me; having made their way from darkness into light before stepping back into the darkness for the light to shine through them once again. I recall the need for focus (clarity) and enlarging (magnifying and revealing detail) and I exposed (revealed) and developed (brought out what’s hidden) and fixed (made permanent) these images from start to finish.

Back here at the crochet covered table in my smaller home I know that this is where I will build a bigger life. I know that there will be times of doubt and judgment but that the light within me will push through the darkness again and again to expose the negative and transform it into its true positive nature. These images full of words, created by my own hands; over time and through resistance will find their way out into the world and bring the light of hope to all those who see them.

I remind myself that each and every challenge, like every one of the photographs I have created in my life, is a balance of light and shadow, revelation and restraint, and that the whole process is filled with the magic of both accident and intention.

Back to my task of sitting in the dark room of my unfinished manuscript just 15 minutes at a time. I set the timer and sit back down with my laptop delving into the transformative process that will bring my words out from within.

I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk. What’s yours?

Resources for Further Study and Personal Growth

There are so many voices that are reminding us to look for the light within. One such daily source of inspiration for me is with Jeff Warren and his Daily Trip meditation on the Calm App.
Another source of inspiration is Francesco Cirillo and his Pomodoro Technique. It is a helpful way to break down an ominous task into short intervals so that we can move ourselves forward in short bursts. Science and personal experience concur that this method really works.
If you want to focus your energy on the light that you have contained within you I would be honoured to be with you as you take the time to expose the negative and transform it into positivity. Reach out to schedule a free beautywalk coaching session with me. I am currently taking on new clients and am open to whatever type of barter or payment works for you as part of my dedication to the advancement of the moneyless share economy and as a way to make the magic of coaching accessible to all.
My Positive Intelligence based program From Worry to Worthy offers you an opportunity to move yourself from being ruled by the thief of the past and the thief of the future to being fully grounded and guided by your wisest present moment self. Check out the full program details and book your first free session with me to get started.
If you are interested in signing up for TrustedHouseSitters you can get a 25% discount (as well as pass on 2 free months of membership to me in the process).

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