Through the Eye of a Lens

This past weekend, I dusted off my trusty Nikon camera and headed to the local Rawhide Rodeo in Wetaskiwin Alberta. It has been quite some time since I had photographed an event, and I was unsure if I would remember all the camera settings for the outside elements of the action at hand. As I stood behind the lens once again, a familiar excitement slowly returned, which produced an upward smile upon my face.

Behind the eye of a camera lens.
Capturing memories one click at a time.

A rodeo is packed full of fast paced action. Hundreds of horses thunder across the arena, competitors are fully focused on the task at hand before them, and the many spectators loudly cheer from the old wooden stands. Yet beyond all the hype and excitement, what truly touched me the most, were the emotions woven throughout the weekend.

Horses have always been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Growing up on a farm, we always had a few pleasure riding horses for our family of 13 kids. Later, during my years of marriage, I married into a chuckwagon racing family, where thoroughbred horses became a big part of my life as I knew it.

Over the years many horses came and went, each one leaving their own imprint on my heart. Some more than others. There were always favorites, only because they hold such personalities, very much like a human being.

I came to appreciate their spirit, strength, and intelligence. Horses have an incredible ability to sense your energy and respond to it. They teach us presence, patience, and trust. Little did I know how much all of this, would contribute to moving forward in my life’s journey.

Some of my favorite moments to capture, are the children. Whether they are nervously waiting for their turn to compete, proudly anticipating in an event, or simply watching with wide-eyed wonder from behind the fence, their bold bright beaming joy is contagious.

Through my lens, I captured moments that may one day become treasured memories for them and their families.

The mini chuckwagons were another great highlight of the weekend. The excitement, teamwork, and determination packed into those drivers and colorful teams brought smiles and cheering to everyone watching. It was impossible not to get caught up in the energy and enthusiasm.

As I sorted through thousands of action packed photographs, I realized I wasn’t simply taking pictures. I was preserving memorable moments. Moments for others, and then more importantly, I realized that this is also a source of therapy for me.

It gives me great pride in capturing a split second of courage, true grit, a proud smile of accomplishment. A horse and rider working together as one. A family sharing an important experience. Team work. Memories that might otherwise be forgotten with time.

In capturing all the unique action this weekend, one determined barrel racer caught my attention. As she came around the third barrel, her magnificent horse suddenly acted up, and it caught her off guard with the flow of the run, and she was completely taken off balance.

For a moment, she was hanging off the side of her horse, holding on as tight as she could to the saddle horn above. Through some amazing power, she never let go. Determined and focused, she managed to pull herself back up into the saddle and continue on her run.

As I witnessed and photographed the entire sequence, I couldn’t help but see a reflection of life. Sometimes we find ourselves on a path we believe we are destined to travel, only to be thrown off course by unexpected challenges.

Life doesn’t always unfold the way we planned. At times, there may be setbacks, disappointments, and moments when we feel as though we are hanging by a thread. Yet somehow, we find the strength to pull ourselves back up, regain our footing, and continue forward.

I was incredibly proud of this young woman. Her determination reminded me that courage isn’t about never failing; it’s about refusing to stay down when life tries to unseat you.

I am grateful to live in Canada, where communities continue to gather and celebrate traditions like the rodeo. There is something special about people coming together to enjoy simple pleasures, support one another, and create lasting memories.

This weekend reminded me that sometimes we don’t realize how much we’ve missed something until we return to it. Looking through the viewfinder once again felt like reconnecting with a piece of myself.

And perhaps that is the true gift of photography–not simply capturing what we see, but helping us remember what we love.

From my little corner of the world.

Sue

P.S. “Sometimes life throws us from the saddle we thought we were meant to ride. The strength isn’t in never falling–it’s in finding the courage to climb back on and continue the journey.” Sue Fraser

Thank you for reading and do feel free to share. I would appreciate that so very much. And if you would like to support my writings, please tap on the red coffee cup link on the bottom right, and treat me to a cup of coffee— for this I am so very grateful.

The Season After Survival: Learning to Just Bee

It’s been many months since I last sat down to write.

My previous blog, A Pause Between Chapters: The Gift Within Divorce, shared some of the most difficult and transformative years of my life. I wrote about loss, healing, horses, nature and the unexpected gifts that can emerge from heartbreak. At the time, I was learning how to survive. I was learnhing who I was apart from the roles I had held for decades. I was finding my footing again.

But then what happens after survival?

What happens when the crisis has passed, the tears are not as frequent, or almost non existent and life no longer feels like something you have to fight your way through?

Surrendering to just be.

Recently, I found myself sitting quietly in a field watching the sunset. There was nowhere I needed to be and nothing I needed to do. I was simply present with the beauty of the moment.

As I sat there, a bumble bee buzzed softly near me, and then there was nothing. Where did it go? I then felt a tickle on my bare foot.

At first, I felt a slight apprehensiveness. My first instinct was to move, to protect myself, and to make it leave. But then deep within me, I felt the need to just stay put, and allow. I took a breath, calming my whole being, and remained still and observed what my new little friend was up to.

For the next several minutes, that little bee wandered around my foot as if it had no where else to be. It wasn’t in a hurry. It wasn’t trying to accomplish anything. It was simply being.

Eventually, it lifted off, made a few circles around me, and flew away.

I sat and pondered on what just took place. As strange as it may sound to others, for me, it was truly a life lesson.

For so much of my life, I have been planning, working, fixing, helping, healing, striving, and moving toward the next thing. Yet in that moment, the bee reminded me that there is wisdom in simply being fully present. There is true beauty in surrendering to the moment rather than trying to control it.

Sometimes we don’t need to do more.

Sometimes we just simply need to be.

A day or two later, I came across an old house standing quietly on a golf course nearby. I figured it must be at least a hundred years old. Beautifully weathered by time, yet still standing strong in structure. Bright yellow flowers and deep green grass surrounds it, creating a scene that was unexpectedly beautiful on that warm spring day.

I found myself wondering about the stories that old wooden structure could tell if it could speak.

I imagined the joyful laughter it may have heard. The soft tears it may have witnessed. The day dreams that may have lived within its walls.

It truly reminded me that we are all like that old weathered unique looking house.

Each and every day of our lives becomes part of our story we create. Some chapters are filled with immense joy and laughter, while others hold loss, change, uncertainty and growth. Every experience leaves its solid imprint.

Yet no matter what has taken place before, we only ever truly have today.

Yesterday is our memories.

Tomorrow is a possiblity.

And today is where life is actually happening. This very moment.

I believe that this is what the season of my life is teaching me.

Not how to survive.

Not how to heal.

But how to be present. Fully present in all that I do.

To sit with a magnificent sunset.

To welcome natures bumble bees.

To appreciate a unique old weathered house and the stories it holds.

To trust that this moment, exactly as it is, is enough.

After years of learning how to survive, I am finally learning the gift of simply being.

Or perhaps, just bee-ing.

From my little corner of the world,

Sue

P.S. “Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have.” — Eckhart Tolle

Thank you for reading and do feel free to share. I would appreciate that so very much. And if you would like to support my writings, please tap on the red coffee cup link on the bottom right, and treat me to a cup of coffee— for this I am so very grateful.