. next fold of the future.

Fri, 26 Aug 2011 21:31:28 -0400

I've historically had a hard time accepting where I am in the journey of life. I'm an obsessively efficient person who likes to have a plan -- the little plan and The Big Plan. The temporary plan and The Longterm Plan. I like to-do lists and clear directions and experiencing creativity within certain bounds. However, life so recently post-college has not allowed for those preferences to be reality. Instead, I've experienced my fair share of uncertainty, frustration, and changing my mind.

But today, I finally got around to accepting that.

I have to accept not only that I don't have it figured out, but that I have no real way of figuring it out right now.

It makes a lot of sense, but it's easier said than done.

But a good place to start is figuring out what you're thankful for and going from there.
I'm really thankful for the place I'm in. I'm frustrated by it -- it makes me want to pull my hair out and scream on a daily basis, at the very least. But I'm thankful for it anyway. I think the very best things in life are that way.

I'm thankful for the sweet season of college that I'm leaving behind. It was all different shades of difficult, but I became who I am in those years, in this town.
I'm thankful that I had something as wonderful as photography to pay the bills, to pay for my cute little apartment on the second floor, and to make me some of the best friends I've ever had.

And now, I'm thankful for a brand new start that I hadn't anticipated or asked for…one that not everyone has the chance to experience.

I'm thankful to be young, to have lots of dreams that tumble all over each other for the chance to be lived out. I'm thankful to have the support of great people who are smarter than me. And I'm thankful to have loved and lived and squeezed all the opportunity and potential out of the past 6 years.

Now, all that's left to do is toast to the future -- whatever it may bring -- and take the leap.

“The past and present wilt -- I have filled them, emptied them, and proceed to fill my next fold of the future.”
-Walt Whitman

much love,
p

.cherise: morgantown senior photography.

Fri, 22 Jul 2011 17:42:45 -0400

discontent about how they have more than you perceive yourself to have. Those are the only options I can think of. For the most part, the principle seems pretty simple.
So, rather than letting this mess of relative, emotion-laden perspectives determine how I live, I’ve been making every effort to see my life for what it actually is. There are some holes. There are some glaring imperfections, no doubt. But there are a lot of things about my life that are so, undoubtably good, and most of the time I don’t appreciate them at all.
The other night, I was uploading photos into a Facebook album, and I spent the downtime catching up on blogs I hadn’t read in a while. On an adorable, clever blog called Pink of Perfection, I came across an article about the very best parts of living alone. This caught my eye because I’ve been going back and forth recently on whether I think living alone is a blessing or a curse. Don’t get me wrong -- I love my cute little apartment with Ikea furniture and window light and full control over television choices. I love making coffee and reading blogs in the morning quiet. I love having people over when I want and not having them over when I don’t. There are a lot of really, really, really great things about living solo. There are also some very lonely things about it.
So, reading through this article was a curious, eye-opening experience. The author’s primary question was What are the very best things about living alone, for those of us who never got to have that experience? She talked about how she had always envisioned her life to be roommate-free and spouse-free for at least some portion of time, but that never actually happened. She moved from college-living to roommate-living to married life without solo-living breaks in-between. She was curious about how other people felt about living alone since it was an experience she never got to have. A slew of comments flooded in after the post -- women sharing thing after thing that made them thankful for a season of living alone, even if they were no longer in that season.
I sat back from my computer and shook my head, amazed. It was true. They were right. There are so many wonderful things about living by myself. I may not love it all the time, and I may not want to do it forever, but I am so deeply, wholly thankful for the experience. It means that I’m financially and emotionally independent enough to make it happen -- and not just to make it happen, but to enjoy it.
That means something.
So, I’m working on adjusting my perspective. I’m working on being content and soaking in all the wonderful things about where I am at this very moment. It doesn’t mean I want to be here forever. It just means that I’m enjoying what’s been granted me here in this season of life. I only get to be here once. I want to learn how to make the most of it.
So, my question to all of you is: what’s the very best thing about where you are in life right now? I’d love to hear your thoughts and celebrations of life’s seasons.
In the meantime, here is a celebration of Cherise’s current season of life. Senior photos of a beautiful, creative, and all-around awesome 2012 senior :)

much love,
p.

.from this one place.

Wed, 20 Jul 2011 14:45:21 -0400

Gritty, empty, hollow grief. Above all else, the mourning circles around all the ways I’ve been disappointed. The things I believed out of love and life, the things I expected and trusted, turned out not to be the case at all. And that’s the saddest part of all.
Each loss carries its own weight, fills it’s own unique shape. Each situation sits in your hands differently. Each possesses its own particular taste and scent. Indeed, they are each their own, but the sum of them asks this question -- How could I be so wrong? How could I so ardently, so fully, believe in things that simply are not true?
I believed that I knew how to love and be loved. I thought that if I just gave it one more ounce of myself, I could hold it together. But I couldn’t. It fell apart brick by brick, and I found that so much of it had nothing to do with me. I can’t make choices for someone else. If they choose to change, if they choose to leave, I can’t tie them down. My optimism took me way too high, and I fell from it hard. I never knew it could feel like that, as naive as I was.
I believed in this path, this trajectory for my life. I didn’t have all the details worked out. I didn’t even want to have them worked out. But I thought that certain things -- my family and the memories of my childhood - would always be a sweet, safe spot to dwell. I believed -- again, foolishly -- that my core would remain intact and everyone would still be around to tell the old stories and share the new ones. I dwelled in a false sense of permanence, never worrying about the temporal nature of it all. But now, in this place, all of that is consumed by insurmountable grief. It’s so monumental that neither my emotion or logic can make a dent in it. Neither even knows where to begin. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever feel anything other than what I feel right at this moment, because I simply cannot imagine it.
I believed in friendship. I believed in investing and loving and listening. I believed that if it were sincere enough, it would be reciprocated. I gave everything I knew how to give, but again, there were choices I couldn’t make for other people. Perhaps I was naive, but I truly believed the best about others, and in so many ways, I was so sorely disappointed.

In a very real sense, inside the cocoon of 12 short months, all of my pillars came crashing down. Every plan, every escape, every safety net, and every sense of understanding and identity was washed away. And I kept on going. Ambition, growth, forward motion. Just. Keep. Moving.
But I’m slowly grinding to a halt. You can only drive on flat tires for so long. You can only carry on with wounds for so long before it’s all finally drained out of you. The grief I’ve made every effort to escape just ended up followed me down every path I took. There was no tricking it or outrunning it. It’s a no-way-out-but-through-it sort of thing. No negotiations. No shortcuts. I can’t make something efficient or productive out of it. It just is what it is.
Now, I can do nothing but stand staring that deep sense of loss straight in the face. Will I ever feel anything but this? Will I ever rebuild the hope and optimism and truths that have so tragically been broken to pieces?
I’m sure I will. I hope so. I believe so.
But as of the moment, it feels like a distant fairy tale. Some vague possibility for years down the road. The path between here and there is completely dark. Nothing but a question mark over most areas of my life.

As hard as it is, I just have to accept it.
And keep walking as best as I can.
“From this one place, I’m square in the dark” - Sara Groves
p.

.honesty, the past, and wishing to rewind.

Tue, 19 Jul 2011 14:06:26 -0400

learn to roll with the punches. Hopefully, we can keep up.
I don’t know if other peoples’ lives accelerate at the pace that mine seems to, but it certainly seems like I’ve spent the fast few years operating on hyper speed. I’ve said before on this blog that from year to year, my life looks TOTALLY different. And sure enough, since writing that last, my life, again, has a completely different landscape. Trust me, I’m grateful not to be stagnant, but I just wish sometimes that I could find the rewind button. Or even just the pause button. Something that would dull the feeling -- just a bit -- of spinning completely out of control.
The past few days, I’ve wandered around Morgantown, exploring campus and strolling through downtown as if it were a museum. I can see, feel, hear, almost taste all of my memories replaying in front of me, and those memories sometimes feel a lot more desirable than what’s happening in my current life. My head knows that it’s silly to long for the sweet moments of the past. What’s done is done. But my heart still goes there from time to time, just wishing to feel things they way they felt back then.
As I’ve been wandering around these so-very-familiar streets remembering conversations, parties, times we walked for ice cream or had breakfast at the Blue Moose, I’ve been thinking about the pressure we have to make it seem like our lives are tidy, fun, and so ultra-progressive. Social networking practically demands us to build a well-structured facade that will display our lives flawlessly to other people -- a facade that will make them envy our success, our families, or our freedom, whether they are truly worthy of envy or not.
Doesn’t it seem like people appear so much happier on Facebook than they do in real life?
It seems that way so much so, that my wondering and wishing wistfully for the past feels more lame and pathetic than it probably should. Everyone else is so happy. They have no need to look over their shoulders...right?
Maybe. Or Maybe not. When it comes down to it, I know it doesn’t matter. But it just feels so dishonest to create a profile that advertises my life like it’s a new vacation destination. Perfect weather. Perfect decor. It might be fun to make people think that, but it’s simply not the truth.
I don’t want to feel the need to make my life appear pristine, especially if it isolates someone else in their lowest moment in need of companionship.
If we’re all in this together, then I want to share my victories and my struggles so that people at least know that I have them. I guess I’d rather appear honest and flawed than appear perfect and be a liar.
So, in the interest of honesty, the real, raw truth is that I didn’t give my life permission to change, and sometimes I wish I’d had that option. For the most part, whether it was a rapid leap or a gradual drop, life just kept happening while I was focused on other things. There are moments in my past that I miss so much it makes my insides ache, and there are other moments that I’m all too happy to leave behind.
But today, in the middle of this humid, summer afternoon, I just wish I could rewind and be surrounded by laughter, conversation, and those lovely, lively memories one more time.
I’m hopeful that the future will bring good things. And my prayer for you and me is that we can move forward, appreciate the past, but still barrel on bravely toward a good, good future.
much love,
p.

Adventure.

Wed, 29 Jun 2011 10:55:10 -0400

it for all the things it is. Funny how the least selfish act can give us the greatest and most coveted sense of self.
Something to think about, for sure.
With all of these things rolling around in the back of my mind, I had a conversation yesterday with my stepdad, Frank, that helped this whole concept really gel. It made me realize how our sense of security and contentment really does boil down to the perspective we choose to take. You see, in this conversation, I was voicing some obvious insecurities -- insecurities about what I’ve done and what I’ve yet to do. I’m the type of person who walks around in a constant state of competition with myself. I measure my present reality against the reality I always imagined would happen by this moment, this age, this year. Have I achieved/loved/tried/risked/communicated everything I thought I would by now? Is it always going to be me against my internal, self-made clock? Me against so many things that I have no way to control?
What foolishness, yet how very common in the world of achievers.
As Frank and I talked about these sorts of things, I mentioned all the friends who have things I don’t: marriages, babies, mortgages, roots. I focused on all the ways that my life doesn’t stack up against the requirements I have in my head for what a 23-going-on-24-life should be.
And to all of this, he simply responded, “You just have to realize that you’re on an adventure, not just existing.”
And about that much, he was certainly correct.
During that conversation, two things immediately came to mind: 1) my own glaring, pathetic impatience and 2) the verse that says “God made everything beautiful in itself and in its time.”
The truth is, there’s no rule book for this. Regretfully, frustratingly, there just isn’t.
My list of internal expectations comes from a lot of different sources, but when it comes down it, I have to learn to let that go. This is my own journey, my own story, my adventure -- and it really has been one. I’m grateful for that because I don’t want to find myself existing, content to have all the necessary pieces in place.
I don’t want to check all the moments off like a to-do list and miss the real magic, the real story that I’m here to tell.
I want to have the patience to see this through, to watch it play out, and make all those other things well worth the wait.

So, now that I’m back in my own family, in my own schedule, in my own life, I can see all the things I’ve learned while being a part of someone else’s. I’m learning that we all have our own script to live out, and none of us is any more or less important than the rest.
We are what we are and it’s more than enough.
Truly.
much love,
p.

P.S. While I was in FL being a part of someone else’s delightful little world, my dear friends Adam and Squeeze helped me put together this video of my brand new song, Gypsies & Greed. Full recording to come :)
Check out the link here: http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=10150227850056302&oid=271660986862&comments

.leaps of faith.

Thu, 23 Jun 2011 22:14:58 -0400

But the thing is, everyone wants to be “different.” Everyone wants to have the big pay off, the big success, but they usually aren’t willing to stray too far from the status quo to get it. They usually aren’t willing to risk being misunderstood, prematurely judged, or outright criticized -- because we all know too well how people can be cruel and careless with their fellow human beings.

I, of course, don’t know how willing I am to experience those things either, but I find myself jumping off the edge of “risk mountain” quite a bit lately -- often before I take time to really consider how crazy I might be. I just take dives with some sort of gut faith that says it will all pay off in the end.

As an inherently cautious, sensible, and logical person, it strikes me as odd and profoundly shocking every time I see this affinity for risk taking shape in my life. It’s a rather new development. How do I have this part of me underneath all the logic and skepticism and calculated measurements that I so often display?
I honestly have no idea.
But I do, nonetheless.
And now, as I’m preparing to re-open my business, as I see this new side of my work and my life take shape, I realize how risky it all really is. I’m stepping out of my own box and going for things that stray so very far from my comfort zone. Maybe I’ll fall completely flat on my face, but somehow I’m just not worried about it.
Miraculously, amazingly, curiously not worried about it.
Somehow I know that I just have to do it. If I don’t, I may just explode. It’s in my bones, and there’s no escaping it.
So, here’s to putting yourself out there, regardless of the risk. Here’s to going with your gut, believing in what you have to offer, and being brave no matter what.
Here’s to starting over, breaking rules, and being who you are.

Much love and bravery to you all,
p.

P.S...some photos from the lovely Arts Walk in Morgantown this month :)

the other side of something.

Tue, 14 Jun 2011 16:13:01 -0400

With so much transition and movement in my life this year, it’s been difficult to figure out what I want to do. Teach? Work an office job? Be a photographer? Join the circus? Sell all my belongings and travel the country in a beat up pick-up truck? All equally viable options at this point, my friends. So, I spent the better part of the last few months weighing options, thinking, and praying. I needed to let the dust settle, so to speak. I just needed some time to be me -- to not have a business or job or classroom to consider. It was no easy task, but just as I anticipated, after a little while of letting it all go, answers just sort of found their way to me.
Stepping back from photography was the best decision I ever made. I needed clarity, and there was really no other way to get it.
But now that I’m back doing work that I’d already scheduled for this summer, I’ve fallen in love all over again. I thought I needed to give photography up, but really, I just needed to figure out why I loved it in the first place.
I’ve done exactly that.
Recently, I met with a portrait client to give her a disk of photos from her session. After chatting for a while over Starbucks lattes, she pulled out a little yellow shopping bag.
“Oh, before you go,” she said, “I just saw this and thought of you. I just had to get it. It’s no big deal.”
I stared at it, completely amazed. “It was no big deal”? She bought this for me, the person whom she paid to photograph her newborn baby. Me. Just the photographer. Just because. I slowly opened up the bag and pulled out a long necklace -- coppery in color with a camera-shaped pendant at the end.
I think my heart grew three sizes in that moment right there.
She could have plucked it out of a dumpster and brought it to me for all I care, and I would have had much the same reaction. Just the fact that she would think of me enough to bring me a gift gives me all kinds of warm and fuzzy feelings inside. Of course it’s a big deal.
I’m always so genuinely amazed at how personal and intimate the work of a photographer is. I’m not just a paid vendor who slips in and out of people’s lives. It’s so much more than that.
I photograph people’s worlds for whatever reason it is, and they make room for me in their lives. I don’t know why. I don’t remember ever initiating it or asking for it. It just happened and then kept on happening. Now, I’m totally addicted to that experience.
I’ve never felt so loved and cared for as I’ve felt after some very special weddings or photo sessions -- I guess just because it takes me by surprise again and again. It shouldn’t be that personal. It shouldn’t matter that much, but it so, very much does.
It makes me thankful all the way down to the bones, time and time again.
So, finally, after all the hardship I’ve met in my life this year, I’m remembering this magical thing that photography brings to my life, and I can’t bring myself to give it up. With this in mind, I’ll be redesigning my business/website/logo/etc and relaunching my business sometime around the beginning of August. The new Paige Butcher Photography is on it’s way :) I can’t wait.

I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I know that I want my business and the amazing, beautiful people that make it happen to be a part of it.
I want to genuinely thank those of you who have listened to me, supported me, read this blog, shared your hearts, and shared the word about my photography to others. You have made an indelible mark on me that simply cannot be erased.
I can’t wait to see what unfolds next.
Stay tuned for the new release of Paige Butcher Photography! I’m so excited to share new plans that are in the works!
Much love,
p.

.big news.

Tue, 11 Jan 2011 20:15:56 -0500

Part One:
I’m not going to be a professional photographer. At least not in this season of my life. My plan was always to take my business full-time after I graduate with my Master’s degree in May, but over the last few months, I’ve realized that I really don’t want that at all. Trust me, this is more of a shock to me than it ever could be to anyone else. I have loved every single client who has entered my life and my art, and photography has been so very good to me. I have felt more supported, more loved, more challenged, and more at home doing this than you will ever know. But at the end of the day, I don’t want to be a full-time business owner right out of college. I want the financial stability and security that a regular job brings. I want to wake up and have an office (or classroom) to go to every day. Photography can be a pretty lonely job when it means hours in front of the computer, away from friends and family. I want to have Saturdays and evenings to spend as I like, and I want to live without the stress of maintaing a business.
So, that’s what I’ve decided.
Still, I will miss it dearly in so many ways.
I will be finishing out the weddings that have been scheduled for 2011, and I’ll still take on the occasional portrait client. But for the most part, I’ll be taking an indefinite hiatus from professional photography.
I hope each of you who have supported me in this journey know how much you have absolutely, indelibly changed my life. I will never stop being grateful for your goodness, your support, and your encouragement over the past couple of years.
For those of you who are curious, I’ll most likely be pursuing a job in public education. I’ll be certified to teach middle school or high school English, and I’m excited to explore those options. I start my student teaching tomorrow morning, and I’m thrilled about beginning a new, crazy, hectic, creative chapter of professional life :)
Ok, and now Part two:
I’m planning on relocating to Denver, Colorado sometime at the end of this summer. As long as I find employment, that is. This decision has been very recent, and it certainly wasn’t in my plans AT ALL. However, I feel a lot of peace about it, and I’m looking forward to a fresh start for things post-college.
I have weddings scheduled for next fall that I’ll be flying back for, but most of my photography obligations will be taken care of by that point. Don’t worry: I’ve already emailed those clients to let them know that their photographer will be flying in from out of state :)
Some of you are probably wondering “Why Denver?” and the answer is “Well...because.”
I did a boatload of research on several US cities, and Denver was where I landed at the end of it all -- for a lot of different reasons. I’m flying out in March to check some things out, so the location part of all of this isn’t 100% certain....but I have a pretty good idea that I’ll be in Colorado.
If you’re a praying kind of person, your prayers would be much appreciated as I navigate this very tricky (but exciting) year ahead.

I’ll be blogging lots about the journey during these next few months. And I’m sure I’ll be posting some photos as well :) Photography will always happen in my life, whether I get paid for it or not.
I hope you’ll continue to join me in these adventures. I’d love to hear from each of you, and I hope to have your support in all things new.

much love and excitement,
p.

.the first day.

Sat, 1 Jan 2011 20:58:02 -0500

year, I do want to get back to sharing more often. Whether or not a single soul ever reads what’s written here really isn’t the point. I need a place to think and unwind. Whether or not I ever post another photograph really isn’t the point either.
This is just about me and this year that will soon unfold. I’m looking to find more humbleness and honestly and hope than I’ve known before. I’m looking to give away more of what I have and to see the truth about myself and the world around me.
I can’t wait to see where it goes.
much love,
p.

.the year.

Fri, 31 Dec 2010 11:40:22 -0500

people who help to make that happen. And the ones who are patient with me in the meantime. Here is some wisdom that the past 365 days have brought to my doorstep:

1. I know I’ve said it here before, but I’m still astounded at how deeply, profoundly true it is: We never arrive. Over the years, I’ll keep changing and growing. The things that I want now might not be of value to me down the road. And better yet, some of the most pivotal moments in my life are probably unfathomable to me at this moment. I HAVE to learn to factor this in. I have to stop thinking that every choice is a forever choice or that I can predict what life will be even a year from this moment. It’s okay to change, and it’s okay to change my mind. It’s all part of being human, trusting God, and enjoying the adventure.
2. Some people are meant to be close to us temporarily. It may hurt to see them come and go, but sometimes their purposes in our lives may be brief, and then they have to move on. It’s not my place to hold them back, and if nothing else, I want to learn to love with open hands and open hearts. And not be afraid.
3. There truly is a season for everything. The best thing we can do is accept it, breathe it in, and trust that this too will pass. In time.
4. It’s easier than I thought to give into fear and the dangerous desire to be “comfortable.” Giving up self-reflection and honesty about myself will always be a huge mistake. I know who I am, and I know that at my worst, I’ll always be on the verge of compromise. Compromise can happen so discreetly and invisibly, and I have to keep my eyes wide open -- to be willing to see the truth, even when it hurts.
5. My family, friends, and free time mean more to me than almost anything else. I honestly had no idea that it mattered so much to me, but it so, so, so does. There’s nothing that I could build or invest in that is worth giving up those three things. There is nothing worth doing if it means sacrificing myself or the ones I love. Sometimes it takes being pushed beyond your limits to find out where your limits really are. That’s what this year has been for me.
Armed with these hard-earned tokens of truth, I’m more excited about the new year than ever. I honestly have less expectations than ever before because my expectations continue to be blown apart again and again. All I want is to keep pressing on, to keep loving, to keep seeking truth, and to keep dreaming big, despite the odds. The year 2011 will bring graduation from grad school, a summer of weddings, and possibly a move to a new city.
And possibly a whole host of other things that I have no idea about.
That might be the most exciting part.
I hope that you bring in the new year with gratefulness and celebration. Thanks so much for being on this 2010 journey with me. Thanks for your listening ears and encouragement I don’t deserve.
Onward and upward, my friends,
p.