In conversation the other day I remarked how I believe I have been melancholy all of my life.  Melancholy.  Ponder that for a moment.  Some might equate melancholy with depression, and it’s true depression is often experienced as melancholy.  Still, there’s another way of looking at it.  Melancholy could also be seen as pensive or the act of deep reflection or thought with a feeling of doubt and questioning the present reality of things.  And that for me is where I connect to the word and the experience.  I am self-aware enough to know that I’ve been through times of depression and have sought out support as a result. 

Growing up I was always searching.  Searching for a friend.  Searching to belong.  Searching to be accepted and loved.  I remember from the time I entered first grade through the sixth grade I attended a different school each of the successive years.  No wonder I was melancholy!  I could hardly find time to land at a safe place when change and upheaval would occur.  Such is the life of a boy living in the home of an alcoholic parent.  Alcoholism, though, is a subject for another day.

What all of this instilled in me was a kind of discontent.  Could I be happy?  Was happiness elusive?  Could I simply be…be myself and accept myself without feeling like I was missing out on something?  Believe it or not, even without the ability or understanding to put into words what I was feeling, these were the questions that tracked me throughout my childhood and still, to this day, tap me on the shoulder and remind me that the search is not over. 

I take a bit of comfort in this:  that if the search isn’t over then there must be the hope that happiness, acceptance, love will be found.  Truthfully, I don’t want the search to be over for then I will have given up.

Just the other day I was reminded that, with all of my failings, struggles, and brokenness that I was simply accepted for…me.  

How amazing that is and even more amazing is that melancholy has no room here. 

I fancy myself a photographer.  The truth is I own some cameras but have never truly mastered any of them.  Starting out in film "back in the day" I began on an old Kodak Instamatic followed by Kodak's version of a Polaroid camera to (at last) a true SLR: my trusty Pentax K1000; perhaps the best film camera to learn on.  For years I shot film until finally film got too expensive and rare to find and develop.  I guess I could have set up a dark room but remember I've never mastered photography. This is the truth: I'm just a "photo-tinkerer."  The '90's weren't good to me in terms of photography as relates to equipment.  Mostly point and shoot cameras were used to snap pictures of my kids.  I still have a brown paper bag full of rolls of film too expensive to develop now.  Sometimes I feel like a failure for not taking the time to develop all of that film.  But shooting a roll of film of my kids' birthdays and events and then another roll of film and still another; it all added up and now resides in a brown paper bag.  A sad way to end up. Finally, after the dull years of my photography I finally got more diligent about things.  I moved to digital SLR and bought a Nikon D40; a great starter camera but I quickly outgrew it.  I then moved on to a Nikon D90 and then to a Nikon D7000.  And that's it. That is where I have ended up.  Don't get me wrong.  I love my Nikon...a really great camera but I have yet to master it.  I'm a "novice" novice. What helps me in photography is that I have an "artistic eye" (I just made that up; no one has ever said anything of the sort about me). I often see things to photograph that might be unnoticed by others.  I'm not sure what the title would be for that.  Geek?  Nerd?  Weird?  Odd?  Amazing?  No title is actually needed.  It is what it is.  The photo above was taken behind the old Jefferson Hotel in downtown Birmingham, Alabama.  I simply like the look of black and white for this picture and the direction it takes my eye down the back alley.  Usually when I shoot photos I am undertaking the endeavor for myself and because of that I don't always have to master every shot to get the photo that I like.  And that, in and of itself, makes me happy.  Perhaps that is what happiness is...finding it in the moment without worry of what someone might think; just allowing the moment to be whatever it needs to be.  In that regard I don't have to be a great photographer; just a happy one.