Hello from the shores of Lake Ontario.
I hope you are well and had some good holiday time. Ours was quiet with good food and lots of reading and watching movies.
I’ve had some time to look back on the year just ended and I’m always amazed at the things that happen in a year that were totally unexpected. For example, I had a few trips that were not in the works in January, due to opportunities that arose, as well as the loss of a family friend. We never know what a new year will bring. Making plans and having goals is good but we always have to be prepared to adapt. Think back to 2020 and what was in store for us in March of that year. This year will have its own surprises, I’m sure.
In this letter, I’m looking back at what I’ve written throughout the year and what I’ve learned about seeing clearly. I’ll also share a few of my tentative plans for 2025.
2024 Review of Seeing Clearly
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In January, I published a summary of the documentary, A Desert of Pure Feeling, about the artist Robert Irwin. I had watched it for the second time and was reminded of how Irwin’s art installations are so intimately tied to place; in fact, they are anlways in response to a particular place. This is the essence of seeing clearly. In February, I had the chance to see some of Irwin’s work; the gardens he designed for the Getty Museum in L.A. and his “window” at the San Diego Museum of Contemporary Art.
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In February, inspired by Naomi Klein’s fabulous book, Doppelgänger, I wrote about the practice of ‘unselfing’ and its importance to seeing clearly. In her final chapter, she tells the story of Charlie Veron, a coral reef scientist studying the Great Barrier Reef, who says that it is the job of his life to de-center himself so that he can truly see other life forms and what they need. Klein says that for collective survival, this is what we must do.
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In March, I wrote about resonance, after reading a book on this subject by Harmut Rosa. For me, resonance is a deep, embodied feeling of connection. It occurs when I feel moved by an encounter and this causes me to respond in some way, whether through an action or creation or simple gratitude. It changes me and informs the way I relate to the world moving forward. The opposite of resonance, according to Rosa, is the feeling of alienation, something experienced often today in our fast-paced world. He thinks that we need to lay the groundwork to,allow,for more experiences of resonance.
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In April, I wrote about “edges,” as I was taking a writing course on edge places with Chelsea Steinauer-Scudder. These are places of greater diversity and opportunities, as well as risk. They are fragile, vulnerable, and sensitive to change, whether cultural or climatic and so they become places of resilience as they have to adapt to changing conditions. I was reminded to look to the edges to see most clearly what’s happening.
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In May, I wrote about embodied intelligence. For the first three months of the year, I had facilitated a group at Kinship Photography Collective on photographing from the senses. We brought our attention to each of our physical senses, as well as internal senses like intuition and emotions. I’ve learned that when I do this, I see more clearly and savour life more. At the same time, I gained new ways of thinking about embodied intelligence after reading an article in Emergence Magazine by Dana Karout called ChatGPT: A Partner in Unknowing. While it’s mainly about what we can learn (and not learn) from ChatGPT, it’s also a reflection on intelligence itself and how we can respond more creatively in the moment.
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My June post was on perspective and it coincided with the U.S. election campaigns going into full swing. Our opinions tend to stem from our unique perspective, the place and time from which we stand. I explored how perspectives are formed and why it’s important to have different perspectives in a society. My conclusion was that listening to new perspectives doesn’t mean we have to abandon our own. But, we do have to realize that where we stand is unique to us and doesn’t necessarily reflect the experiences of others.
Every year brings unexpected events and deaths. In June, one of my heroes, Wallace J Nichols (water advocate extraordinaire and author of BlueMind), died suddenly. I wrote a post about what his work meant to me on my website.
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In July, I returned to one of my favourite topics, that of systems. This was part 3 in a series that began in 2023, and I wanted to cover the interdependence aspect of systems. To see clearly, we must recognize our own interdependence with humility. This means seeing the intrinsic worth and purpose of everything, including ourselves. It’s about seeing how much we depend on others and the world to survive. Once we start noticing this interdependence, or the relationships within systems, we feel a part of something bigger and that brings with it a sense of responsibility.
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By August, I had finished reading a beautiful book by Sy Montgomery called Of Time and Turtles, about the people who devote their lives to turtle protection and conservation. I’ve long been fascinated by turtles; the fact that they’re so slow moving and also ancient survivors. So, I decided to devote a whole post in honour of turtles.
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In August and September, I focused on a new project called Following the Threads of Attention. I had found myself in a space where I wasn’t sure how or what or where to direct my energies next. I asked myself, “How can I discern between the noise of the world and the signals that are most important for me, for my own well being, and for how I can be of service in the world?”
I took this question to a retreat experience in the summer with Jeffrey Davis called Unplugged and Unbound.** Each of us came with a potential idea to explore, and we worked on them alone and together. This helped me to clarify my project and practice.
In Part 1, I wrote about attention itself and why I was following it. Part 2 provided the first draft of a worksheet I had been using for tracking it and what I had discovered so far. And, Part 3 was an invitation to participate in a group pilot project where we would all practice together.
** Davis will be offering this retreat again in June. I won’t be able to participate this year, but if you’re intrigued, learn more here. Early registration ends January 3rd.
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In November, I covered the topic of improvisation and its importance to life itself and seeing clearly, inspired by the musicianship of Jon Batiste and a book called The Art of Is. Improvisation is all about listening intently and responding in the moment.
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I read a lot of books every year and so, in December, I posted about my favourites of the year, the number one being Fire Weather by John Vaillant.
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As you can see, I get a lot of my inspiration from books, as well as newsletters and podcasts. The common thread, I believe, is that seeing clearly has to do with being present and really listening to the stuff of life, experiences and encounters in your own place and while travelling, and in ongoing relationships with friends and family. And then, responding accordingly.
What’s ahead?
There are a lot of horrific things going on in the world that leave me feeling unsettled and not sure as to how I can help. There’s also a lot of good happening that doesn’t get nearly enough attention. That’s why my mantra for the new year will be to resist despair and protect joy. I like the verbs in those phrases because so much depends on what you think needs resisting and what needs protecting.
Last year, a post from Samantha Clark (one of my favorite newsletters) led me to Jeanine Ouellette’s Writing in the Dark community on Substack, which I immediately joined. If you like writing prompts, she has a lot of free content available, but paid members get access to her writing intensives. Her first in January, which I’ll be participating in, is called For the Joy & The Sorrow: Writing the World, inspired by Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights. I loved Gay’s book and this intensive will be one way of protecting joy in the coming months.
I will continue following the threads of my attention for my own self-awareness and to determine what I’ll write about. I have some exciting travel coming up that I’m sure will inform my writing too.
One of the ways I stretched myself this past year was being part of a photography collaboration with nine others from the Kinship Photography Collective. We are all from Canada and have been exploring their annual theme, called Between Bodies. This will culminate in a group exhibit beginning late February in Ottawa at the Shenkman Arts Centre. More details to come.
That’s all for now. I’ll leave you with this quote from a book I just finished, American Ramble, written by Neil King Jr. He walked from Washington DC to New York City, reflecting on the history of the land and the people he met along the way.
“If you go out your front door with an eye for all that baffles, amazes, enchants, and keep at it day after day, giving in to the landscape and letting the rhythm of your steps guide you, it’s astonishing what can ensue.”
Thank you for your comments and support in the past year. Here’s to many astonishments in the year to come.
On-Demand Workshops. As a reminder, all of my previous photography workshops are now available on-demand as downloadable PDF’s through Gumroad. You can peruse them here.
** Note: Books mentioned have Amazon or Bookshop affiliate links, meaning I make a few cents if you purchase through my link. I only recommend books that I’ve read.
Thank you for this post Kim. So wonderful. I loved the insights and the last quote to carry with me in 2025!
Happy New Year, Kim. Thank you for this rich, reflective post, the first one I've read this first morning of 2025. It has inspired me to make a plan to re-read your 2024 writing, which I will begin to do later day. But now, as I go out my own front door in a few minutes for my annual New Year's Day walk at Stanley Park, I will carry the quote by Neil King Jr with me to guide my first steps into 2025.