USING THE POWER OF PHOTOGRAPHY AS THERAPY ONE FRAME AT A TIME
Good morning folks.
Deep in the shade, everything was still—until a beam of sunlight cut through.
I startled two rabbits. One ran.
The other froze… right at the edge of the light.
Framed by nature, lit by chance.
I couldn’t have asked for a better moment.
This is why I carry a camera—nature doesn’t pose, but sometimes… it offers. So good for the soul.
Make it a great day, chase the light… cheers
If you’d like to join me—whether you have a camera or just your phone—please reach out to learn more. I’d love to walk this path with you.
My War Cry I AM a warrior…. Hear me now, the battle is on.
As the full moon rises…
my heart rate spikes.
The monster stirs—
his path is now illuminated.
The light guides him,
straight into the marrow of my soul.
His hands reach out…
not to harm—
but to hold.
To pull me in.
My monthly nightmare begins
I’m in for a battle.
The brightness—
it doesn’t comfort.
It lights the battlefield.
A cruel spotlight
on a war I never asked for.
We go head to head.
He’s frustrated.
Every. Single. Full moon.
I greet him with horror—
but also with strength.
Because each battle?
Makes me stronger.
He lunges forward,
vengeance in his veins.
But I don’t flinch.
I strike back—
even harder.
He’s leaving me faster
with every rise of the full moon.
Retreating…
to rest once again.
And I watch him fade
until the darkness completely sets in.
I stand victorious
on blood-soaked soil.
But I know he will return—
whenever the moon is bright enough
to light his path.
Each time,
I gain more tools.
More insight into his mind.
And my war cry gets louder.
The moon with its craters
The monster with its scars
I am a warrior.
And I speak
for many
too tired from their own battlefield.
He’ll never truly leave me…
but I’ll never stop fighting.
Never stop learning.
And one day—
my war cry
will drown out his words.
My resolve will crumble him to ash
There is hope, remember that warriors
You too will fight your battle but you are not alone
No matter how hard, scream your battle cry
Be heard
It’s the silence that kills us.
The Theragraphic Project 