Ruminator

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography I sat in an empty parking lot in the middle of the woods at Charlestown State Park. It was 32 degrees (yes I had a t-shirt on) and I cracked my window a few inches, opened the sunroof, leaned back in my car and closed my eyes. I began to breathe deeply. I was alone with my thoughts. That is often a very scary place to be for me. This week I experienced three instances of minor anxiety attacks. The week threw a lot at me. I had two all-day meetings that I was asked to attend at the last minute, both involved an area I work closely with. This sent me down the fearful rabbit hole of a possible layoff coming soon as they were reviewing much of the work and responsibility I do for my area. Nothing confirmed or denied, just where my mind goes. Next, my son’s truck quit working and I called to get a tow early on a Monday morning. I was contacting my mechanic, got confirmation he would look at the truck (Google says his shop was permanently closed) and planned

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography Today’s post may be misconstrued as a bit of a rant, judgmental, rebellious or even anger.  I assure you it is not.  If you take it that way that is on you.  It is in the simplest of terms, my observation. Growing up I was “raised” or shall I say trained to think, act, and feel a certain way.  A topic I covered in depth in previous posts so I won’t go back into that. Here is your final chance to turn back. This past weekend while hiking I engaged in a conversation initially about my pictures and while I loved black and white pictures so much.  In a nutshell, I was a photographer at my high school, and I took pictures with a black and white film camera, and also developed the negatives.  These shots were used in the school newspaper and yearbook.  This was done because the color was way more expensive and harder to develop.  From that point, I developed a love and feel for the black and white film. As my conversation continued I explained that by being