January 1, 2023

Two friends and I agreed on a new year's resolution for 2022; my daughter chimed in with a variation. We agreed to take a picture each day and post it on Instagram. No saving up photos for future use, no mining past photo collections on the dull dreary days. The photos didn't have to be the greatest, but they had to be from that day.

And for the first time in my life, I carried through on a new year's resolution from January 1 to December 31! 

                  Nancy Lowry

Starting in my single digit years, I have most always vaguely and halfheartedly chosen a resolution because I assumed that's the way the world worked, and I wanted to be part of a world that worked. In my teens it was most likely about losing weight or being more charming (!), maybe even snagging a date or two. On into the twenties and upward, it was most likely about eating better or being a nicer, friendlier person. As my fifties and sixties rolled in, it was about writing a daily list of things to be thankful for, or drawing a picture a day, or even drawing a picture a day of things I was thankful for. Somewhere in my sixties and seventies, I lapsed. January 1^st  would roll around and I would dither, spend a few moments digging into hopeful changes I could make in my life, review my previous years of utter failure at keeping to the resolution discipline, and decide it was futile, vain, or even silly, Then a friend suggested the picture-a-day resolution. I agreed because I like photography and I wanted to support my friend. Another friend joined in. My daughter saw the potential interest and joined on her own schedule. And we were off. 

As someone who never saw a rule that wasn't asking to be circumvented or ignored, I was hopeful. And
almost right away, I knew this was going to work. It is encouraging to have the same goals as others. Each day, I was eager to see where others (our little crew on Instagram and others who shared photos by email or text) were going, what caught their eye, what they posted. And everywhere I went, I was seeing things with new eyes, new possibilities, new wonder. Sometimes, when I was ready to call it a day, I would realize that I had not done my photo, and just as quickly realized there was plenty of interest and imagination left in the day I thought had drawn to a close; I wandered outside in the dark with a light or set up a still life indoors with odds and ends.

I was unable to drive for seven months of this past year. and during that time, family and friends took me on photo-op field trips, sometimes on the prowl for new opportunities, sometimes to their favorite haunts; I am so grateful to them for these expeditions. Closer to home, I grew intrigued by the variety and beauty hiding in the nooks and crannies in the yard, underfoot, on the block, within walking distance. The mundane emerged with new glory and possibilities. 

Our little band of photographers has re-upped for a second year. What will it be like the second time around? Will the luster have faded? Have I seen it all? Taxed my resolve to the max?

A year ago, a friend used the Mary Oliver poem "Instructions for Living a Life" as the focal point for one of his photography exhibits:

   Pay attention.
   Be astonished.
   Tell about it.

Somewhere in the middle of my first year of taking a daily photograph and sharing it, Mary Oliver's simple set of instructions crystallized and became my own. Second time around, I will be paying attention. I will undoubtedly be astonished. And I will continue to take great pleasure in sharing my work and seeing other peoples' visions of what matters to them. 

Connecticut River, June 2022
Copyright Nancy Lowry