Many days I stress over my lack of experience as a photographer, I want my pictures to be perfect. I want pictures that transport my viewers, readers, followers, family and friends to locations they may never get the opportunity to experience. If they do, I want them to feel the love of the location that was brought to them initially from my post. Yes, I know I am not a professional photographer, but in my unnerved mind, I need to be one to convey my message through images as well as words.
The day I explored Oakland the weather was the typical summer toss up of storms and sunshine. The cloud coverage upset me because I knew the light would be horrible. Looking back, these pictures are beautiful, especially with the dreary backdrop of the clouds.
I keep reminding myself that I’m a professional educator, all of the things I desire are passions that were built from my love of learning about the world. No my pictures will not be perfect, but they will be perfect for displaying my love of wherever I am grateful to roam at any given moment. Progress over the illusion of perfection in pictures and posts keeps me motivated to continue on my path of passions and purpose.
Honestly I really enjoyed roaming through the cemetery, learning about the lives of those who crossed many lands and oceans to make Atlanta their home. Some were able to make that choice freely, and others were forced based on their owners demand. I was inspired by all of the sites of former slaves, who taught themselves to read, started businesses, became medical professionals, build schools, founded colleges, and established legacies that continue today. I felt a strong sense of pride in seeing the accomplishments of women of all races, who understood the importance of community involvement.
I think the important tidbit for me to remember is my intentions are in the right place, and with work and time, my skill set will consistently improve right along with my desire to display the best of travel from an educational and cultural perspective.
And as I sat enjoying the beauty of the flowers and magnolia trees that surrounded me, I wondered how many of the dead were able to live and find their true purpose in life? How many were able to take an active role in choosing their destiny? How many had an opportunity to experience true love? And how many simply existed and survived because their life was a sacrifice so that we now could have the privilege of making those choices? Visiting cemeteries is a humbling experience, a beautiful place to reflect on lives once lived and appreciate the life you should be living now.
I’m just a brown girl, traveling the world, trying to make something beautiful