Photo diary: The conservatory of flowers

Fear is a funny thing. It envelops you at once, holds you tight, then lets you go as quickly as it came. Anxiousness, which can come before fear or even without, has a steady hold on your wrist. Generally not enough to completely stop you from going about your day. But just enough to make it hard to pick up and put things together, to get places. Sometimes, the anxiousness is worse, or rather, more affective, than the fear because like a bandage, the fear will be ripped off and discarded. Anxiety of fear is really a double threat, because you spend all this time anxiously awaiting the fear of the experience.

The dahlia garden at the Conservatory of Flowers in San Francisco was breathtaking even in the harsh light of day. There were six or so photographers surrounding it and instantly I recalled how much I love photographing flowers and leaves and wild things. The Conservatory itself is enchanting. You’re transported to another – a few other, actually – worlds. In the Northwest, it’s a decidedly different kind of green that I don’t see nearly enough.

It takes some time for you to realize what, really, those close to you know, but you’ve been convincing yourself of differently. I dread flying. I haven’t flown many times in my life, never as a child and not at all until I was 23. It’s one of those things that seems common – lots of people dislike flying – but when it’s you it’s suddenly just you. I’m going to Seattle this month and flying “alone” for the first time. I want to visit my grandma who’s in the hospital and might possibly still be there on her birthday. There are a few reasons I don’t travel too much, especially home — it’s still home mentally, but it’s not where I belong at the moment — but it’s easy to put those forth when really, you just seriously hate flying. I know fear well enough to know that there isn’t a cure all, and anxiety enough to know that it always lingers, but I am looking forward to that monumental sigh of relief when I land. That relief is the same relief as many nights as a child hearing a noise or having a bad dream, forcing yourself to fall back asleep because it’s the only thing to do, and finally waking up to the comfort of the sun. It all seems silly the next day. I look forward to silly. The comfort of the sun.

It’s not just about flying, it’s about the grip these emotions can have. I’m reading Daring Greatly right now so I’ll consider this post my risk for the day.