The Monthly Edition

The admins come together and share their personal favorite freelensed image from the month.

The Freelensed Monthly Edition : September

on this day, in this month, i think of towers and ash.

of lives lost and loved ones found. a new york i never knew and the deep canyons that line the walls of my heart.

and because our souls are made of stardust, and the carbon that builds our bones echoes from a time beyond understanding, i say we live on still. live on even long after we die. not just as memory and song, but part of the dust that presses our eyelids shut in a wind storm and the blisters on our feet as we walk barefoot in the unrelenting sun.

-rebecca

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 Anna Christine Photography

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Sherri Davis Freelensed Monthly

Sherri Davis

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 Kelly Akers Photography
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Celeste Pavlik

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Amanda O’Donoughue

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The Freelensed Monthly Edition: June 2015

first born of a first born. born in a whitewashed blizzard deep in the dark of night. in the heart of december, from the cold paned windows I blew my first breath.

there in the first buds of a life not yet lived, the mountains met me and somewhere across the winter white plains, they grabbed my heart.  those mountains, purple bones in the setting sun, strung together my first sentence, held me up as i learned to first walk, dried my tears with their blankets of aspen, held my hand when i first felt fear.  from them, i learned that there are gifts in this world that can be at once so beautiful and so cruel. they stamped onto my skin something intangible. made me into an artist, a picture taker, lover of words, a keeper of memories, a mother of children: a desire to be all these things, melded together, holding together, the shape of this soul of mine. i rise at first light. in one hand i hold my coffee, swirling steam of the roasted beans; in my other hand i hold the bucket that fills heavy with these things: the camera capture, the books, the beans, the words, the oils, the boys, my children, my life.

the list goes forever on.

yet, however the rivers run through the mountains of my heart, my children are always first, and i know they always will be. they sit upon the great divide, high above all else; they run their course, ever faster and stronger; and me, running along side of them, just for now; trying to hold onto the the knowledge that, one day, I will not always be their first. those first apron strings that once wrapped them up, will unfold and fly into the wind as a child’s first lost balloon.

so i wake each day, walking a path that is a constant unknown, one that is always misshapen, cracked in the crooks of the road from the wheels of our travel and the bare boned love I have for them, that is always first.

rebecca

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Kelly Akers

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Sherri Davis freelensed monthly

Sherri Davis 

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Anna Larson | Anna Christine Photography

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Cate Wnek

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Amanda O’Donoughue

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Rebecca Coursey-Rugh

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Celeste Pavlik

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Compass: The Freelensed Monthly Edition: March 2015

If only the hours spent laboring to bring your body earth side could be the compass to your heart. That with each contraction I felt, my understanding of who you were to become would be etched on my soul. That as I pushed you out into this bright world from the grey of my womb, the map of your heart would come with you, offering a guide to navigate the terrain of your soul.

For sometimes, just sometimes, I bring myself back to the moment you were born and the weight of your body as you passed from me, and wish you had whispered your secrets so I could always follow you into the wilds of your childhood, into the somewhere, out there, out where I am not able to follow. -rebecca, a wondered life

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           rebecca coursey | a wondered life

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       Anna Christine Photography 

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Cate Wnek Photography

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Sherri Davis freelensed monthly

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Celeste Pav | Everyday Photo Bliss

Welcome 2015! & a giveaway

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a pause. a moment. a celebration.

As much as there is something very loud about a giveaway, there is something very quiet about freelensing. it requires patience, focus, concentration and nimble fingers. when I go into a session with a client, I am never sure if I will freelens or not -but I always love it when I do- there is a way I am slower to click the shutter closed. My fingers move in a delicate dance. My breath slows and in my mind, I know I am knitting an image, a moment trapped in time, but the end result, I am even less sure of.

As a collective group, we feel so honored to have you all here: sharing your passions, your art, your hard work. It just seemed absolutely appropriate to host a giveaway once we passed the 2000 likes mark on our Facebook page….and even better that it is celebrating the New Year as well!

So here it is The Freelensed Giveaway!

One winner will receive:

*one digital pdf copy of the “freelensing {unlocked}” an all inclusive/comprehensive guide that will help you take this technique to the next level: http://www.lindseybergstrom.com/new-products/freelensingunlocked

 AND

*A set of 5×7 prints (7 total), one from each of the artists who works behind the scenes to keep this community going! ( Artists are listed below. Images for the giveaway are in the collage above). 

{Scroll through our photos (hopefully you find them inspiring) to down below where you can find the details on entering our giveaway}

 

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Anna Christine Photography

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Amanda O’Donoughue

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Celeste Pavlik | Everyday Photo Bliss

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Sherri Davis Photography freelensed monthly

 Sherri Davis

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Rebecca Coursey-Rugh

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Cate Wnek

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Lindsey Bergstrom

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 To enter, all you need to do is this: leave a comment below. It can be as simple as a “hello” or as deep as what your work, your art, means to you.

Of course we would love it if you shared this post and liked us on Facebook, but we didn’t want to be too pushy. We will draw the name from this comment section,  the list of folks who have shown us some love and likes on Facebook

We will use a random generator to produce a lovely name to find out who wins the prize!

The contest will close out next Wednesday on January 21st!

Happy Freelensing! xoxo

 

The Freelensed Monthly Edition: December 2014

old man time is as fierce as he ever was. if anything this past week has taught me is that old man time is wicked. and unrelenting -he ravages our bodies and steals our dreams out from under our pillows. he is the never ceasing black hole that tries to stamp out the light that emits from our hearts. older than the world itself, he tries to age us all, blot us out, making our hearts as heavy as stone so that we fall away into the night letting go of the small tendrils that keep us tied to the here and now.

there are days when i find myself giving into this frenzy that old man time brings. i am convinced he is the true inventor of the internet, the true genius behind the seconds that blend into minutes that blend into hours and days where life is wasted and forgotten. as much as i try to slow down, life keeps spinning forward anyway, and i am left with a threadbare lace that disintegrates as i try to sew it back together.

annie dilliard wrote in her book, The Writing Life:

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

and i find it so so very true. and timely. and real. and as honest as it gets for me -it also true for what we witness and how we react to it. it is true for us in this instant age of the internet.  and true for those of us whether we are ignoring the march of time, tentatively stepping along, or joyfully pouncing forth into each day.

i think, as modern, western cultured humans, we believe that having more of something, more of everything, more of life, that this more will help us leave our imprint; it will help weigh us down and and aid us in leaving our lasting mark on this world. however, as i age, i am ever so convinced that it is the less, the lighter we walk, the less we hold onto, this is what truly helps us live into the life we are given.

and in this lightness, this is where we make our soft imprint on the world, blotting out the void of old man time and the absence of meaning he threatens us with.

as i enter the fray that december can be, as i try to make things perfect in a very imperfect world, i will be trying to allow this “spending of my days, is how i spend my life” be my mantra.

“how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

i will be trying to make this be the thread of my days.

i cannot control this old man time, nor can i avoid living a life filled with what i make of it.

but i can chose how i spend my my days, and allow that to be how i spend my life.
xxoo -rebecca

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Amanda O’Donoughue | Amanda O’Donoughue Photography  

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 Anna Christine Larson│Anna Christine Photography

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Cate Wnek│Cate Wnek Photography

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Celeste Pavlik│Everyday Photo Bliss

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Sherri Davis│Sherri Davis Photography

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Lindsey Bergstrom | Lindsey Bergstrom Photography

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_U1A7321Rebecca Coursey-RughA Wondered Life

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The Freelensed Monthly Edition: November 2014

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It is early morning and I have yet to open my eyes.

I know it is dark outside as the light has not yet knocked on the doors of my eyelids. I keep my eyes shut tight so that I can better listen to the world slowly waking up. I listen to the deep sighs of those sharing the tent with me and as I listen to the wind blow through the trees, whistling slowly through the flaps of my ears, I can tell that each one of my companions are still asleep. For that I am grateful. I slowly open my eyes and the first thing I see is nothing. Just darkness. The sun has not peeked over the tops of the glaciered mountains around me. Though I can feel the sharp sting of the cold air around my face, I know that the earth remains slowly circling the sun as I can feel the heat of our star rising through the ground, torrents of sunbeams that will cast everything in its golden glow in just a little while. My eyes slowly adjust to the dark, and as they do, I see the faint blue-gray light that first hints of the day to come. I quietly get out of my sleeping bag and pull on my sweater. While grabbing my boots and other woolens, I ever so softly unzip the tent’s door. I wince as the sound of the zipper seems to resound off the walls of our tent, as deep as a loud “hello!”echoes and bounces off a canyon wall. I turn my head to cast a furtive glance at my tent mates. Not one of them stirs. I sigh with relief as I climb out into the dark campsite, with the wind quickly biting at my cheeks and my mouth steaming out plumes of steam.

My feet tentatively feel the cold sharp needles and frosted dirt, and despite the frigid air, there is a part of me that longs to walk barefoot over to the cold campfire. I am briefly frozen in the indecision, then chose to throw logic to the wind that tickles my cheeks. I walk, feet stinging on the cold ground, my arms clumsily filled with my boots and layers of clothes to the fire pit. I sit on one of the logs as I pull on my boots, my hands shaking from the thrill of acting like a child as well as from the bitter cold. Once dressed, I look up at the sky that will slowly turn a bright blue in just a bit. I can still see Orion’s belt, and though the sky is still a deep navy, the last bits of the Milk Way have been swallowed up by the soon to be seen sun. It is her way of whispering that she is almost here, dancing just behind the mountain range. I don’t want more light just yet, I don’t want the sun to come up and wake the others.

I just want to be here, in the quiet, here sitting, here, with the ache of the cold wood finding its way into my skin.

-Rebecca Coursey-Rugh A Wondered Life 

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 Amanda O’Donoughue Photography

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Anna Christine Photography

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A Wondered Life: Rebecca Coursey-Rugh

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Everyday Photo Bliss: Celeste Pav

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Sherri Davis Photography November Freelensed Monthly

Sherri Davis Photography

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Lindsey Bergstrom

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Cate Wnek

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The Freelensed Monthly Edition: October 2014

october.

the dimming light.

the crushed scent of rosemary lingering on my lined hands.

long shadows chasing children home as they return from school.

dearest october, you think that I would let your scouring of the treetops and browning of the grass leave me bereft of joy. instead you are a month where the sunlight gloriously falls through the spaces in the trees, the night lengthens in sweet ways and the harvest brings a satisfied thump to ones belly.

though we drag in the last scraps from the garden, october means I can once again sleep with windows wide open in hopes of catching the evening call of a cricket or the lightest touch of a breeze. here in this full month of autumn, my body comes alive again after the slumbering heat of summer: the back of my neck no longer pricks with sweat and there are less heat induced complaints when I shoo my boys out of doors.

october is the soft heat that curls in through the windows, brushing against my shoulders, playing with my hair. october is of the most tender golden hour, stretching from noon ’til night; october is the downy wind that sighs across the lakes, holding up our hearts as safe and content as a newborn babe who lays in her mother’s arms.

xoxo –rebecca

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Amanda O’Donoughue│Amanda O’Donoughue Photography

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Anna Christine Larson│Anna Christine Photography

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Cate Wnek│Cate Wnek Photography

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Sherri Davis│Sherri Davis Photography

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Rebecca Coursey│A Wondered Life Photography

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The Freelensed Monthly Edition: Sept 2014

A storm rolls into my heart as the heat of summer leaves my body and I can feel the icy paws of winter’s cold scrape through the edges of the wind that rolls down the valley of my soul.

I am always faced with this time. We are always faced with this time.

The clocking metronome of the eternal circle of seasons: locked in the story of the sun, the rotation of our earth, the pull of the moon, the ebb and flow of the tide.

Here, out on this precipice of the yes and no of autumn, I feel at odds with the story that insists on unfolding every September. The return of the school year, the harvest, the letting go of the gardens, this time that reminds me that we must sit fallow a while so that we can grow anew in spring.

I am never sure where to stand when my children return to their desks. My heart wants to hover, outside in the school yard, wiping away my hollow, misty breath from classroom windows. Hovering there, as unseen as the promised cold of winter.

Yet I always turn away, with the ghostly squeeze of their hands still clinging to the sweat of my palms, knowing that I too am locked in the same eternal beat of the seasons; knowing that they, and I, must continue on our sometimes separate paths, forever locked together by the patterns of love -but slowly, as time permits, the growing up, and growing on, that follows every mother’s song.

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Rebecca Coursey│A Wondered Life Photography

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Amanda O’Donoughue│Amanda O’Donoughue Photography

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DeAnna McCasland│DeAnna McCasland PhotographyTheFreelensed_Blog_Divider

 Anna Christine Larson│Anna Christine Photography

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Cate Wnek│Cate Wnek Photography

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Celeste Pavlik│Everyday Photo Bliss

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Sherri Davis│Sherri Davis Photography

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The Freelensed Monthly Edition: Aug 2014

I am sitting on the back porch of a beloved mountain home. Thunder is humming in the distance as I watch dark blue clouds tumble across the mountains that frame my view. Yesterday I traveled a thousand miles; driving with my three boys, from beach to desert, to high plains, to foothills. We crossed dry swatches of land, forgotten reservations, Navajo Nations. We came into these San Juan mountains from the back door. I feel so lucky. So at peace.

Though my great grandfather was an accomplished photographer in his day, it does nothing to feed my overly critical brain. Perhaps that’s why I love freelensing so much: that I came into it from the backdoor.

The right and the wrong just don’t exist here.

That, here in the arc of its blurred images I find the back door to my soul: a place where I perch my heart in my dreams.  As summer draws in its last heated gasps of summer, I know I remember things better this way, the blurred images of my memory, the dance between the dark and the day, and the hush of the sky before the storm.

xo- rebecca

 

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Sherri Davis│Sherri Davis Photography

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Rebecca Coursey│A Wondered Life Photography

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Amanda O’Donoughue│Amanda O’Donoughue Photography

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Lindsey Bergstrom│Lindsey Bergstrom PhotographyTheFreelensed_Blog_Divider

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DeAnna McCasland│DeAnna McCasland PhotographyTheFreelensed_Blog_Divider

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 Anna Christine Larson│Anna Christine Photography

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 Kim Hilliard│Kim Hill Photography

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Paige Everson│Sweet Magnolia Photography

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Cate Wnek│Cate Wnek Photography

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Celeste Pavlik│Everyday Photo Bliss

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The Freelensed Monthly Edition: July 2014

oh friends, what a june.

i feel as if i have lived a thousand summers through the stories your images tell.

i feel the heat of the sticky damp nights that live in the heart of the southern shores, the firefly magic in a young child’s eyes, sandy tides, the tang of melons, and the oh-so many dancing hearts. is it a wonder at all, for all her uncompromising glare, that we worship the sweet Sun and her blanketed rays of these long days of summer?

i am so looking forward to july and august: sun flares, lazy days together, backyard BBQs, the sweet golden hour of sunset.

collect the memories. gather them as a farmer harvests his wheat.

then, please, oh please share your freelensed images with us! we look forward to seeing them and sharing them here. xoxo –rebecca

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Paige Everson│Sweet Magnolia Photography

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Sherri Davis│Sherri Davis Photography

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Rebecca Coursey│A Wondered Life Photography

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Amanda O’Donoughue│Amanda O’Donoughue Photography

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Lindsey Bergstrom│Lindsey Bergstrom PhotographyTheFreelensed_Blog_Divider

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DeAnna McCasland│DeAnna McCasland PhotographyTheFreelensed_Blog_Divider

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 Anna Christine Larson│Anna Christine Photography

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 Kim Hilliard│Kim Hill Photography

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