lynch christmas 2009

i spent a good bit of my christmas trip with my family to the beach capturing what i believe to be
the little meaningful things that make my family wonderful. i shot mostly video and i hope to soon post
the short piece i created. i took very few photos, but here are a few that speak to me.

we rushed to the beach just in time to see the sunset. it rained the next three days.







my 8-year-old cousin...so proud of his teeth. he has an "expander" instead of braces, and often sounds like he is wheezing as he takes a breath. regardless, still mr. popular, he says to me that he "has girls all figured out."

my brother and i stand on the far left...good days.

time makes us strangers
and fear, an anchor
prevents us from breathing

lets leave behind the weight of yesterday
and tomorrow
expectations are nails driven
into dying wood
the exterior will fall away
run, run with swift breath
approval is wasted on
the heavy-hearted,
empty souls
floating

the pang of regret proves
too bittersweet to taste again
was it too simple to ask. go forward
even if you can't see in the dark
leave the light behind.
run, run

the mist doesn't linger for dawn
and fog, is always untouchable.

freedom

we are made to live in the raw, beautiful versions of ourselves.
(photo by Jenna Passmore)

the crazy lynchs

apparently, every once in awhile, my parents try out some new health contraption, and my very easy-going, obliging brother will dare to try it out with them. the latest: aqua chi....my parents swear that it gives them more energy.

cursed to miss the changes,
never see the dawn
brimming blood red, arching
yellow flooding, washing
over the edges
offering the question
that we squelch,
that lingers in my throat,
refusing to tumble from the lips.

a being of confusion
convolution
a combination that leaves so much
empty
no global satellite system
exists to navigate
this orchard of beautiful and bruised
endlessly bitter
fruit
that continually begs to be tasted.

race, always never fast enough
to chase those evaporating hints,
dripping with sarcastic irony
distain and urgency
its a cataclysmic potion
designed for disappointment.
the answer eludes you

ill-fated. the dance was cut short
with the dying of the melodious fiddle
strung by hallow strings
lacking the strength of magic
and sacrifice.

cant let it all be in my head.
then, jump, the toes loose touch
of solid ground
rushing of the wind
tickles
with hair wrapping
the view becomes a vision of wonder
held, transfixed in time.

we are but a mist than vanishes in the morning

but we hope to be more than a glimmer while here

letting the glorious evening wash over us...

sometimes you have to go home

early morning run

i was running this morning and it was so incredibly beautiful, then i ran back home to get a little point and shoot. it doesn't really do it justice, but better than nothing.