the simple things

It's been a few days, and I have to confess it's harder to blog when I have so many other things pulling me in so many different directions. Ah the joys of being back in Dayton. But I so much enjoy the process, that I know I want to continue, that I must continue, for me. And so I will.

Once upon a time, when life was more difficult it was also more simple. A contradiction for certain, but a truth nonetheless. This is a familiar theme, and one mused upon many times over. On farms and plantations in rural counties across the country, 150 years ago or more, men and women rose before dawn, worked hard to keep food on the table and a little money in their pocket, ate when they were hungry, drank when they were thirsty and if they were lucky, lived to bounce their grand kids on their knees. The work wasn't easy, but it left no time for mixed priorities. It was difficult but it was simple.

The heart of this matter is what keeps me from doing anything consistently. I live in a world where I don't have to do backbreaking work to stay alive. I am surrounded by the technological advances of time and developed nations, and rather than feelings blessed, I often feel burdened. For the ease of life makes more time to say yes to the less important, less fruitful variances of life. Bogged down, kept from the simple things by the things that are supposed to make life easier, or at least more enjoyable, I have a hard time prioritizing. A seven week trip brought to light that which I knew all along - that the I am more rested, more creative, more at peace, just ...more....when I am focused. While journeying I had time abundant - to think, to read, to sleep, to exercise, to photograph and to do work. Good work. Work that perhaps has meaning. I was able to reflect on the past, the present, perhaps how it all affects my future. And I was able to rejuvenate. And coming back was like slipping on an old, familiar sweater that still fits but is perhaps a tad too tight. And the only solution is to pare down to make it fit again. I have revisited a few things, and I have come to a few conclusions about where I fit, where I don't, and where I need to spend my energy. And I am sure these will grow and change with time, as I am always growing and changing. But for now, all I need to know is this - photography, words on "paper", expressions of self and thought, are mine. And they're here to stay. And here they are, represented in the moments from the last week of my journey.

Ironic that my first photographic trip upon going back to Goldsboro was to drive four hours west again, into the heart of the mountains. And so it seems I have come full circle, in more ways than one. That being said, let me take you back in time - to a place nestled in the hart (purposeful mis spelling) of Catawba County, North Carolina. To Hart's Square, where one man's vision of the past comes to life once a year in a unique (albeit crowded) affair. I bring you Hart's Square. For more information on the event, go to http://www.catawbahistory.org/hart_square.php

For a complete look at all my images from that day, go to http://www.jacquelynnbuck.com/harts%20square/index.html

the covered bridge we visited after Hart's Square