I spent the summer of 1976 with my Dad in Windsor, Ontario, a place I’d never lived before. He’d moved there a few months earlier and was able to get me a job as a security guard on the night shift at the place where he worked. Since I had no other options at the time, I took the job.

Coming home from work at 7 a.m., I’d sleep through the morning and part of the afternoon. Then, I’d get up to go to my second job, teaching figure skating at the local arena.

A few weeks after I began, the skating club had a “test day” – where skaters performed before judges to see if they’d achieved the required skills to move to the next level. The cavernous and chilly arena was filled with the chatter of skaters, coaches, judges, and parents all gathered for the big day. There was a sense of camaraderie in the air, with sounds of celebration when someone passed a test and the silence of heartbreak when they didn’t.

While I was warmly welcomed by the skating community, it was clear on this day I was an outsider. I didn’t belong. At least, I didn’t feel like I did. Most of the people there had long established relationships that would continue long after I left. Surrounded by hundreds of people, I felt very alone.

We can feel most disconnected and lonely in the midst of a crowd.

Maybe you’ve felt this way too. Since I was a young girl, I yearned to connect in a way my family members and closest friends could not always satisfy. It wasn’t the kind of connection met by conversation or through sharing experiences or memories. I wasn’t sure what it was that I needed. It took years before I recognized what I was missing and how to fill it.

It was through photography that I discovered the connection I was missing. When that first image of winter trees in my backyard appeared in the photographic solution many years ago, I felt an aliveness I’d never experienced before. The photograph was a tangible representation of my connection to that place. Those intertwined branches represented the inherent way everything is already connected. My camera showed me how to be fully in the moment and to connect through my photographs.

“All my creation is an effort to weave a web of connection with the world. I am always weaving it because it was once broken.” (Anais Nin, Winter, 1942)

Ever since then, I’ve practiced reweaving my web of connection through photography. My camera teaches me how to slow down (pause), pay attention (focus), and then connect with what’s there (click the shutter). It teaches me about myself; what I’m drawn to and what I turn away from. It teaches me how to engage, and most importantly, how to trust what I have to share.

The 45 photographic exercises in my book, Adventures in Seeing: The Camera Teaches You to Pause, Focus, and Connect with Life, will help you to tap into a deeper awareness of yourself and the world around you. You’ll rediscover your own connection with a world fully alive, a world where you belong and have a place.

** Books mentioned have Amazon affiliate links, meaning I make a few cents if you purchase through my link. I only recommend books that I’ve read.