3 Ways to Love Life (According to a Young Photographer)

My five year old steals my camera whenever she can.  She's the most determined little girl when she's setting up a shot.  She'll take pictures of anything--cats, babies, rear ends, her own feet.  And it's all equally intriguing and equally beautiful.  As I found these photos other friends took of her yesterday, I couldn't help but think about what she's teaching me.


1.  Concentrate.
If my little girl can do it, surely I can take a minute and look around.  All of a sudden, I find extraordinary things to love.  I appreciate my surroundings instead of moving through them like they are mere inconveniences on my way to where I'm going.

2.  Look closely at your subject and be patient.   (You may have to hunch down and look completely ridiculous)  She's not self-conscious about this act of observing her world.  Who cares what friends think?  She's living with flair whether anybody thinks it's weird.   She passed up pie and shopping to stay there and get this shot.  She knew where the real joy was. 

3.  Everything's fair game, even your flip flops.

Do you know how many feet pictures my daughter takes?  She loves her feet, she loves shoes, and she loves that one toe of pink nail polish left over from last month's kitchen beauty parlor afternoon. 
 

Living with flair means I need to focus on my world, observe it closely, and know that everything is fair game for flair. 

Photos courtesy of Lauren Kooistra and Rachel Schrock. 

How to Savor (and Lose Weight) with Flair

Living with flair means to savor. You take the smallest thing (a punctuation mark, a turtle, a hand in the wind), and like some judge on Iron Chef, you test its quality. Then you announce its worth. Announcing the worth of small things has changed my life this month. I anticipate the greatness of common moments.

Today's "flair moment" came in the form of a meat cake. They do exist. http://www.blackwidowbakery.com/demo/meatcake/. A friend celebrated her 28th birthday party at my home last night, and someone honored her with a meat cake. The frosting was mashed potatoes whipped as lovely as buttercream. The rosettes were perfectly formed swirls of bacon. It was food art at its best.

I tried a little--just enough to savor the taste. Appreciating its artistry provided more pleasure than the actual eating (although it was good). I love to consider the art in food. Give me sushi or lemon meringue pies, and I'll enjoy the composition and admire the chef. I tend to not overeat when the food itself is lovely.

And food is lovely. Why don't I notice it? Eating is common; I do it usually 3-5 times a day, every single day of my life (sometimes more--sometimes a lot more). I tended to not notice my food, though, until this year.

I've lost 35 pounds, and it has something to do with living with flair--with savoring things. Stopping to enjoy the beauty of my food has helped me not shove it so quickly, and in such large amounts, into my mouth. Can eating be an act of thanksgiving, of worship, of . . . flair? I want to savor flavors, textures, colors, and smells. I want to take small bites and be completely satisfied with the greatness of small portions. I really don't need more.

Living with flair means savoring. And, as a result, being satisfied with much less than I thought I'd need (in my stomach and in my life).