Nothing like a little sports critique to get the debate started....

As a photographer, I have had the privilege to photograph some of the greatest NHL hockey players and goalies of our time. My son played at the higher levels of minor hockey and was considered a talented goalie and has a hard fast shot that can rival some of our NHL boys today. It made it much easier for me to get the right shots, at the right time, when watching the big boys play through my lens.I loved watching my son play, even though at first I would have been happier had he chosen a less expensive sport. To be truthful, I didn't like hockey that much until he started playing. By the time he ended his playing days, I loved it. I loved the game, not so much the parents that criticised and said rude things to his face as he was walking out of the rink with his gear. Even when he was one of the best, the criticizing became worse. It wasn't enough that the team played their hearts out, as adults, you'd think there were lives at stake based on the chatter from the parents.

As a hockey fan, and photographer, I love seeing these men at their competitive best. The freshly washed ice behind the Zamboni, the cheering fans, the slap of the puck hitting the goalies gloves at record breaking speeds, the sounds of skates meeting ice as the shavings fly up and spray the air when they come to a sudden stop. What I have never understood, is fans of the home team slamming their players when things aren't going well in the season. Most who appreciate the game, probably played, or knew someone who played as a kid. Really... this is Canada... who didn't?

This brow beating of our own team completely amazes me. They lose their momentum just a 16th of a degree because of a reason, we, the ticket buying public may not be able to fathom, and we lose our cool at these players. Then the magic is diminished and we bully them even more. The press takes up the gauntlet and not only are the fans booing and making them pay for little mistakes, but they are being skewered to the stake and members of the club, from the high profile players to the equipment guys are being thrown to the wolves.

Can you imagine what it must feel like to have 20,000 people giving you the evil eye because you were late for work, forgot to sign your rent cheque, or missed a Dr check-up? That's a lot of hate and bad energy we heap on one person, or one team of 21 guys. Whether you agree or not, they hear what we say, they feel the losses and triumphs so much more than we do. We are the fans, but this is their life. They live and breathe hockey. The emotional commitment to this game for them is 1000 times more than any fan, parent, or friend. When they miss a key pass, or fail to backcheck at a serious defensive moment, you can bet, they are beating themselves up inside more than we ever could. We're just making it worse, pushing them to lose their momentum, we are failing to be the support they need to want to win. It takes a huge amount of commitment and compromise for these guys to get where they are. They and their families sacrifice every day of their lives so we can have but a few hours of enjoyment a few nights a week. For them, it's not just a few hours, it a way of life. These same guys, get up on their days off, to come out to our community events to lend a hand, make an appearance for our benefit instead of spending the day with their kids, wives, or parents. What do we do in return? We slam them, sometimes to their faces. Honestly, some of the things these guys have to put up with from us, even on a good day, and they have enough self control to not show their disappointment in us as fans.

Being a hockey parent, you learn it's not your place to give your kid the gears about his game after the fact. That's the coaches job. Do we honestly think the coach isn't throwing around a few garbage cans or hockey sticks in the dressing room? Really? Isn't that enough? Do you think that we need to say it too? That they need to be scolded like spoiled little boys in public?

I personally, love these guys and their families for spending what few years of their youth, or as long as their bodies can take the punishment, keeping sports alive in my city. I love them for sacrificing time with their loved ones so I can spend a few hours at a game with mine. Yes, I want them to win. I would love to see our Red Mile with wall to wall Red jersey's celebrating a Stanley Cup win here in Calgary. I also know that unless you are surrounded by people that believe in you, you will have to fight so much harder to be successful. Why would we make it harder for them to win? It's time for us to pick up the slack and support our Calgary Flames. I love these guys, win or lose, because they have given so much to the city that I love. SO, where is your winning spirit Calgary? Give these guys a reason to sacrifice their time for a win. Be the change Calgary.

PS... For anyone who dares to say " they make XXX amount per year so I expect ...." How much is time away from your family worth to you? The commitment to the training, the lack of a private life? , so save it.

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole

Setting the bar....

When I was a young mother, I was living the Ex-Pat life in the Middle East with my kids. Now keep in mind this was shortly after the Kuwaiti Invasion and right before the Somali conflict ( watch Black Hawk Down, the horrible true story was all over the news for the world to see. RIP to the US Army Rangers and Pilots). I was, if you've been keeping up with my posts, in Qatar during the Royal Coup in 95.

It was during this time I met a senior correspondent for a major wire service. We became friends when he came to cover Princess Diana and Madonna in Qatar for the Qatari Open Tennis Tournament. Boris Becker was the draw that brought HRH, and the Pop Princess to the desert. Many people didn't know this, HRH Diana, Princess of Wales and HRH Charles, Prince of Wales had been gifted a palace in Qatar by Sheik Kalifa on a royal visit many years before. Her visit was shortly after the BBC interview had been taped. The palace was not far from Aladdin's Theme Park, on the other side of Doha from where I lived.

When my news hound friend and I met, he was considerably older than I, attractive, well dressed, and had (still has) a sense of humor that would rival any major comedian in existence today. His infectious naughtiness was something I had grown up around. My high school football buddies talked the same talk, walked with the same swagger, and drank beer like it was water just the same. We seemed to always end up at the same functions with our cameras and stuck in the same corners shooting. We had the same taste in shot angles and height. Made shooting a little complicated at times but it became a running joke between us and a few other in the business. I was still very young and considered a cub in comparison, and not officially anywhere in their field because I was never officially in the country for that purpose. I was still officially a 'stay at home Mom' (even though the place we were living in was no where near anything that resembled a home).

Through the years and miles of his amazing news career, and my gypsy existence with my kids, we lost touch, gained connections, lost them again, and with the lovely invention of Internet and news people in common, we have been in close contact for a few years now. He is still one my greatest mentors in photography and his advice still rings true with the digital as well as the original film I burned through back then.

Through all my years of eeking out a living and just barely making the cut, I never asked him for a favor, hand out, hand up, or names of anyone I could contact to help push my career forward. I was a single parent and my passion was not a money making venture so I did other work to be sure my kids had a warm place to sleep and food to eat. I never asked because I valued the friendship so much, I never wanted him to feel I was his friend for his connections. I never asked because I knew the bitter reality when you open yourself up to someone for friendship and you find out later it was only about who you knew, who you were related to, or how much money you had. I loved hearing about where his assignments were taking him, where he'd been, who he'd met that made an impression on him. I value his humor and forthright opinions and never wanted to lose that. So I never asked.

I recently did an interview with someone so important to the civil rights movement in the 60's, just by chance really, I was so excited I had to share my coup with my much revered mentor. I knew he would understand the feeling of accomplishment. Once I had finally blurted out the chance meeting and resulting 3 hour interview with pictures, he asked to see what I had done. With trepidation, I attached all the images and 5000 word article to the email even though I knew it was some of my greatest work ever. Sitting in front of the glowing screen with my hands poised over the keys, waiting for his response seemed like a lifetime. A few minutes later, my screen popped to life. His words were keyed in capitol letters, screaming off the screen in my face.

"(his real words were much more colorful than this but I'm going to go with OMGOSH!!!!), I had no idea you had this in you, why are you still doing that mindless fluffy quasi-journalistic (poop)?!!! My god kid, if I had know you could do this, I'd had you set up years ago!!!!!" Among his many other epithets were congratulations, well done, brilliant, and then the somber tone was evident in the last sentence. "Why did you never send me this kind of thing before. I could have put you in touch with the right people. I could have gotten you a proper agency, connections, and you'd have been working everywhere?.!"

My response was simple. Other than not wanting to impose on our friendship, I didn't know if what I wrote or my images were any good. I had sent him images before, but usually the ones I had trouble with the exposure, or composition, so he really never did see any of my finished work. What he saw were images of me perfecting my craft and he taught me to be patient and hone my skills with thoughtful small adjustments. He thought I was just this sweet, clever, beautiful barbie in designer clothes with a tomboy attitude. I'd never said out right, "I want this photojournalism life beyond anything else." I never said once my kids were grown that I would be willing to abandon everything cozy, comfortable, and safe, for life of airplanes, deadlines, and living out of a suitcase. It's what I always wanted, but had responsibilities that I couldn't turn away from. With the words and images I sent, I laid bare my soul to this dear friend who never knew I wanted anything other than to photograph pretty parties and socialites playing dress-up. After much discussion and review of other work he'd never seen, he has promised to put me in touch with 'the right people'. There are no guarantees, he claims, but he clearly states that my work is exceptional and needs to be seen.

So my lesson is, ASK. Define my goals. Speak them clearly. You never know what can come of it.

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole
PS Can I just take a moment to say, to the US Army Rangers of the 82nd I met while overseas, you know who you are... My eternal gratefulness for all the laughs, tears, support and friendship over the years.
Quis est homo qui non meliorem facere mundum ... venit invenire me ... Ego sum ​​hic.

I have a secret ...

I was recently in Hollywood with some dear friends, where I discovered a part of my past I had forgotten. Well, let me correct myself, a part of my past I had buried. I buried it so deep as to never be heard from again. It all came whooshing back to show it's face in a matter of seconds with the mere mention of a name.

Let's start at the beginning then so we're all an the same page. When I was a little girl, I always knew there was something bigger than the little tiny eye blink of a town that I grew up in. My grandparents were successful enough, my Hippie parents were, well, hippies. I experienced both sides of the financial spectrum but all at once. Talk about confusion... but I knew which one I identified with the most. I also knew which one taught me to survive when it was crucial. The finer points of this story will be in the book anyway... so let's move on.

As a child, I had a certain gift that no one recognized or chose to recognize until I was in elementary school. I did not have the opportunity to take the necessary steps to gain an education in this pursuit. My Hippie parents would never allow the expense, or quite possibly the risk of failure. We were all supposed to grow up, be secretaries, until we met a decent enough railroad worker and got married and popped out a succession of offspring who could work the little farm, raise homegrown crops of vegetables and a sheep or two. Wow... I sure must have been a shock when I showed the early signs of being an artist. My wax crayon drawings of tigers, underwater scenes, and horses were not encouraged once I started making murals 2 feet up the walls of our little cottage. Did I mention I could sing? Probably much better back then than now. I had the freedom to roam around our secluded little farm and sing my heart out to the trees, the sheep, especially the dog. He was a great audience and only needed a few dog treats to keep him sitting for the whole show. I sang in church every Sunday when my Mom would take me. My sister's or my Dad weren't much for the church thing, but I went because I could sing and no one told me to shut up, put a lid on it, or made me feel bad because I could sound like Barbara Streisand at the age of 5 and they did not.

When I reached elementary school, I sang everyday. Music and art were my favorite classes, Language Arts a close second because I loved to write. They were my escape from an often unpleasant life at the little hippie cottage and my teachers encouraged and prodded me to sing louder, use more color, and write whatever came in to my head. They cared enough to decide I needed to be a soloist in the Kiwanis Music Festival in grade 1. They made time in each school day because they knew I would never get the time or the help to rehearse at home. They brought in a substitute teacher to manage the grade 4 class so the grade 4 teacher could come and play piano for me a few times a day. We rehearsed while everyone else was outside at recess. I didn't mind, I loved to sing. Looking back now, I was really amazing for a little kid. Back then for me, it was just fun, and I could escape the bullies on the playground. In the school gym, with my teachers, I was safe, loved, and encouraged to greatness. The outcome and details of the festival, I'll leave for the book, but it made a lasting impression on me. So much so that it followed me into adulthood until recently. Also in the book.

I worked a few jobs to pay for professional vocal coaches through my teenage years. My family did not support the arts, nor did they support need to create and express. It came out in other ways, of which they also could not tolerate. I had the coolest vocal coach at 14 years old. She was loving and supportive, much like my elementary teachers. She had a radio program on every Christmas where her students were able to showcase and perform once per year on live radio. She was adorable. After a few lessons, I had trouble getting a ride to her place on a regular basis. The bus was just too far out of reach for me at that time so she suggested I go to Giovanni's Music on Whyte Avenue and order a certain book. She also said after a few lessons, I had perfect pitch. She intentionally made mistakes on the piano to see if she could catch me but each and every time, my notes were true and clear, so this book, she said, would assist me when I couldn't be there for lessons. She admonished a family member, who drove me there once, that I had a gift and if they did not support my gift, they should be ashamed.
The book came with a vocal track, diagrams, and amazing coaching. I studied that book from cover to cover, did the vocal exercises daily, and religiously, much to my family's chagrin. One of my sister's once shut off the electricity in the house so I couldn't rehearse. It was strange to have this support from complete strangers but never from my own family. This book was a lifesaver for me, a great source of comfort in my artistic struggles and the man who wrote it has been on my Top Ten List of 'must photograph subjects' since I first picked up a camera. Incidentally, the camera became a close rival of music about the same time.

Let's skip forward to my recent trip to Los Angeles, CA. I went with my friends to a meeting at the Paramount lot and we passed a man on my way out that looked a little familiar. It didn't dawn on me who it was until we were in the offices for our meeting. The young man we met with is a great filmmaker and one I believe will be an Oscar winner in the near future. His recent entry into THE Sundance Film Festival was a winner and was also up for 3 Independent Spirit Awards a few days ago.
As were were all discussing our mutual acquaintances and his recent trip to Calgary for the launch of the Teenaged Paparazzo film, he mentioned that a very dear and longtime friend of his just left the office. Seth Riggs. Yes, non other than my long distance vocal coach. Vocal coach to Julie Andrews, Ann Margaret, Stevie Wonder, Micheal Jackson, the late Whitney Houston, and many, many other gifted artists. I was actually the only other person in the room who knew who he is. He is not an 'in-the-spotlight-guy' unless you train vocally so I did not feel that was unusual. My filmmaker friend said, we had to set up a meeting. I had to meet him. I was almost overwhelmed and had to sit quiet for a minute.
The day for our meeting with Seth Riggs was packed into an already full schedule. I was getting a little antsy, even though the people we were meeting with already were no small potato's either, but people I had met with on our previous trip, and will likely meet again for many years.
Finally came time to go to his house. We arrive, he is gracious and genial, welcomes us in. Normally better manners would prevail but I was so nervous, I had to sit down immediately. Now considering I spent two days in the presence of His Holiness, The XIVth Dalai Lama and really wasn't nervous at all then, this nerves thing was a bit of a shock. The meeting was short as we were delayed arriving, but my filmmaker friend made sure I was able to get my pictures as well as a picture of me with Mr Riggs. He is the magic behind the talent of many of the worlds best and brightest and another moment in time that will be replayed in my memory for many years to come.
SO yes, my secret. I can sing. Although the promise I made when I had my children was to let go of music and be a good mother, did not make it easy to cultivate my gift. I again, had to have my creative outlet and I chose my camera and a life overseas with my children. My vocal chords are now rusted and scarred from lack of use, the notes don't pour out as smoothly or sweetly as they once did. I still hear the notes in my head as perfect pitch but the lack of exercise doesn't always make them come out as they should. I am assured that with practise and the right coaching, I could have them back at will.
I dug out that old book the other day. When my daughter, at 3 years of age displayed the ability to sing a song, note for note, word for word, I replaced the old cassette from the back of the book with a CD. The book is dog eared and tired looking but the information and exercises in it are still as true as they were back then. Both my children are blessed with musical ability, but chose an easier road to make a living.

I was in the laundry room in my building the other day. The acoustics are almost decent enough to practice in. With the washer and dryer going simultaneously, I was sure no one could hear me... so I sang. I sang the kids favorite Disney songs because those were the ones I could remember notes and words clearly. When I finished my repertoire, I heard the mumbling and clapping from the doorway of the basement laundry. My warbling did not go un-noticed or un-heard. After a few minutes of embarrassed laughter from me, the compliments were forthcoming. I collected my clothes and sheets and returned to my floor, shut the door of my flat behind me and leaned against the door with a sigh and a smile. After a few weeks of travelling and laundry to catch up on, I'm sure I'll have a return engagement there the next 5 nights. Thank you and Goodnight Calgary!!!!!

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole

Doing what I love everyday!

I'm in a place where the music from 100 years ago is still relevant today. Where not much has changed in the last 50 years. Where the differences of culture, class, or color don't matter. I'm talking about the Blues folks. Not the blues of depression or chemical science, but the Blues of the heart and soul.

I have stood where Elvis walked, and sang, where Jerry Lee Lewis pounded out 'Great Balls of Fire' on Sam Phillips piano, and Johnny Cash's deep timbre of vocals layed down 'I walk the line'. Yes, Memphis Tennessee.

There is a competition here once a year where some self proclaimed Blues Aficianados, 100 +/- of some of the most talented singer/songwriters/musicians I've ever seen,  and a few dedicated fans come to pay homage to the dark soul of the music.The competion is fierce. The bands I have seen are something to behold. If we could get half of these players up in Alberta, we'd have a heck of a compliment to our own thriving blues scene. I might add that as Canadians, we can proudly cheer on our own knowing that of the 17 +/- Canadian acts that made the journey, 6 have made it to the finals. I am so proud of our people, we have represented well. I'll let you know how it turns out.
They come from as far away as Australia, The Mojo Webb Band, and Pristine from Norway. France and Italy sent their best. I'd defininately come back to experience this again. As much for the comeraderie of the musicians as the quality of musicianship available. We all roam from club to club, marvelling in each other's talent and individual gifts. Supporting the connections and making new friends. I personally have a case full of business cards for the new aquaintances I've met. Perhaps made inroads to a job or two in the future.

The greatest connection I made has nothing to do with the music industry at all. I met someone here who was one of the people who made a difference to the world in the 60's with the civil rights movement. Our meeting was serendipitous really and will make an excellent column all in it's own, aside from the actual interview about his work and incredible career in changing history. I think the story will be a winner. Meeting him was truely a gift I am incredibly grateful for.

Stay tuned for the winners of the IBC in Memphis, TN and some really great stories of my adventures in the south!

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole

The Directions of 2012

Another peaceful afternoon in my neighborhood coffee shop, just waiting to meet with a client I had done pictures for before. While I sit waiting, I'm making my schedule for the new year's projects.
Finish the cosmetic renos on my condo on the river, organize and archive my last years accounting, digital files, and paperwork. My least favorite part of the business end.

I have a few different projects in the works for my photography that will all be revealed in due time, and making the business plan is pretty fun for me. Much more engaging than filing the last year's paper work. My new assistant Andrea and I having phone meetings making room for her in the bigger picture. By the way, Andrea works when she wants and is strictly administration so no, my dear photographer friends, you may not borrow her. She's busy with her family and in school so she really doesn't have any extra time. Any extra time she has, she very kindly donates to me. Lol! (for a price). PS thanks for the great boots AD and I must say, I think I got the better end of that deal.

As I've mentioned before, my last year, and some of the tough lessons are in the past, but I haven't missed the value in the lessons. Once the paperwork is all signed and the work Visa's are in place, I can announce my major projects for 2012. If I start discussing it before the paperwork is done, it usually ends up in file 13... Lol! I can say, I am slowing down on the non-profit stuff more than I expected in 2012. I have my one favorite client that is a mix of profit and non-profit, so my work with them will continue as usual and the projects I committed to before the financial meltdown of 2010/2011. I am focused on rebuilding my financial empire to what it was in the past life, and once that's in place, I will have more time to help out with all the non-profits that need a hand.

The funniest thing hit me while I was travelling somewhere last year. The flight attendants go through thier safety briefing everytime with the same schpiel, and we all pretend to listen but really, we're all making our own mental check list of our luggage, our trip, etc etc. They know no one is listening but they do it anyway because it's the law and their insurance underwriters insist on it. The WestJet staff on the flight down did not do the safety briefing as usual. They added a little bit of a punch to it and made it interesting. As I looked around, I noticed everyone on the plane was really listening and interested. The witty remarks the flight attendants added were serious in nature but sharp and funny in delivery that they immediately had everyone's attention. With all the miles I've logged on airtravel over the years, I have to say, other than the very first time I flew ( more years ago than I can actually remember ) I listened. Want to know what major revelation I had from that briefest of briefings? .... "put the mask on yourself before you place the mask on your (child, wife, husband, partner, companion)". How simple is that?  Make sure you are in a position to help before you step up.

With that basic bit of safety information, I'm planning my next 4 years of business on that same thread. I can continue to help those that I've already committed to because those groups appreciate and value what I can do for them, and really, it costs me nothing but my time.

The direction for me this year especially... Just because I love everyone and want to help everyone, doesn't mean I can, and I better put my mask on before I try and help everyone else, because they will survive just fine if I take care of them first, but I likely will not. Lesson learned.

PS... Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole

This was a New Years to remember...

There I was with no plans for New Years ... no personal plans anyway. I had a few job offers but the lack of a proper budget prevented me from accepting the work. It wouldn't have even covered my cab fare there and back with all my gear. Frankly I was insulted at the offers available, so I had an invitation to spend it in a beautiful location with just the girls and a few adorable little people... (and when I say little people, I mean children) .

We left on the Friday afternoon and arrived a short while later. The 'cabin' was magnificent. A place I felt so at home in, like I had been there before but truly had never set eyes on previously. In fact I had drawn a picture of something meant to look exactly so when I was a teenager. The stunning views were ones I had had dreams about over the years since I was a girl. Each corner I turned brought a wave of deja vu, but I know I had never set foot there before.

As our midnight approached, we were all relaxed and really had no plan for the evening. Just us girls and the kids. There were no pretty fluffy dresses, masques, or tuxedos. Just most of us in PJ's and wrapped in warm blankets around a roaring fire, laughing with the kids, playing board games, dinner, and a movie. We were so engrossed in the movie, or perhaps half asleep in our cozy stupor, we didn't mark midnight until the neighbors on the iced over lake shot off fireworks. Startling as it was, it sounded like someone was banging on the windows at first. Then we saw the glittery explosions shoot past the windows like rockets in the night.
We toasted New Years and the texts and emails from loved ones far away arrived to all our phones like a tropical rainstorm, hitting us with all the drops at once.

The past year was a mixed bag of blessings, licking the wounds of my lost dream studio space. Rebuilding from the financial losses, which I am reminded of each time I pay a bill, or see the newly made money disappear like Houdini. The ending of weak and one sided relationships, the strengthening of bonds with clients that become trusted friends, and the blessed appearance of new friends that feel like centuries old connections.

With the passing of the old year comes a bright new future. The endless possibilities of this bright shiny 2012 are yet to be realized. I make my new business plan, budget, and forge ahead. Undeterred by the past mistakes I made, acknowledging them, and swearing to not repeat those same mistakes again. My 2012 looks pretty bright, still I have hope and optimism beating in my heart for success, love, and peace. Regardless of the lack of material wealth, I am blessed with a true circle of friends, regular photography clients I have big Buddha love for, and happiness in abundance. My hope for the future is for financial independence ( perhaps I should have picked a different profession.... Lol!), the ability to travel and use my skills to shed light on the issues of the oppressed, endangered, and cultural differences of the other lands we share the globe with, but don't yet understand. I'd like to experience the countries I've already seen, but this time with the eyes of my grown up self, with more money, more time to learn, and less rushing. I'd like to be a Duchess, a baker, a candlestick maker... Lol! Sorry, too much tea today...

I will live with more compassion, empathy, and understanding. I will forgive those that can't forgive themselves, but most of all, I will squeeze every last drop out of life cause that's what it's for. Here's to 2012, may it be a wealthy year full of good things for us all!

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole

Last year on this date...

... I was in a last minute decision to move from my beloved new studio. The roof leaked, the repairs were not being completed by the land lord, functionally nor esthetically. The Cafe downstairs had twice almost burned us out. All the people who had encouraged me to open a location so they could book, seemed to vanish into thin air so the money was not coming in as had been promised. I was continually having to transfer from other accounts to keep up. As much as I loved the studio idea, it was proving to be a bigger hassle in the long run. The fire threat was the most uncomfortable thing and it being an old building, it would have gone up in a flash.

I reluctantly had to give notice to my landlord. They were unsympathetic and cold. They were business owners. They did what they had to do to make their justifications and I ended up paying a bigger price tag than I ought to have, just to be free of the albatross. I called my commercial insurance provider and explained the issue, I had said my main concern was the fire hazard of an ill managed Cafe. My agent had scoffed at my concern. Shortly after all of my pricey gear was out of the loft, the Cafe below burnt to the ground. I called my agent to make sure my insurance had been switched to the new address. When she found out about the fire, she was silent and said she would never doubt my intuition again. To this day, I think there is only a shell on the lower floors.

I picked myself up by my bootstraps and forged ahead. Being a mobile photographer was where I started, so back to it I went. Recovering from the financial loss is still a burden I deal with daily. I learned to conservation picture frame from the very best of the best in that field to supplement my income, but the cost of getting to and from work everyday, wore on me, and my dreams of being the photographer I wanted to be were gradually slipping away.

Here we are today, with endless possibilities ahead. Press releases, articles to be published, events to attend and write about, world famous music producers that make extraordinary espresso, iconic authors with book launches, and photo sessions to edit and deliver. My life has been anything but ordinary to this point. In fact, I don't know that I'd be able to manage an ordinary lifestyle.

I have yet to turn down the fantastic offer of a job in Central America that I was heralded for earlier this year. I keep waiting for the City of Calgary, that I love so much, to yield the financial crop I had been hoping for. This abundance has eluded me thus far. The warm Caribbean breezes beckon me still, and every time I have to discount my work yet again, because someone does not value my skill, the call of the warm blue sea builds to a roar in my ears.

After trips to paradise and excursions abroad, I've learned that my skills are far more valuable everywhere but home. I can honestly say I know very few photographers who have said anything different. In fact, most of the musicians I know have the same conundrum. There is one blues artist here in town who had to fight for anyone to recognize him here, and no one paid him any mind until he was signed to a plum gig in the US. His voice is what I think soft butter would sound like if it could make a sound. He is smooth, yet powerful with his delivery. His band and their songs are clever and catchy, very tight musically. He had to be recognized by a foreign entity to be taken seriously here at home. Just for the record, I always knew he was gifted and made mention of it to him frequently enough.

 I have possibly secured an assignment that is turning out to be everything I had hoped for. I am at present waiting for the final word of a start date. It will take 6 months to complete. I'll be in the air more than I'll be on the ground, and maybe even getting paid enough to pay my rent. It is not based out of Calgary, or even Canada. If this is the way, why shouldn't I move to the Caribbean. I can work in every other country just as easily from there... but I love my condo on the river. I love my friends here, my kids are here, my life is here, there is just no regular work here for what I do.

In the end, unfortunately, one can not live on love alone in this society. I could be Buddha-like all I want, but my landlord still wants his rent cheque, the grocery store still wants to be paid for all the food, the electric company does not love me back, and my internet provider does not take trades for photography. Here is my question then... why do people want me to work for free or below standard prices if they themselves don't work for free?

Hey! Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole