Still Life.
From this week’s Rebellious Joy newsletter.
A little reflection on ordinary moments, unexpected turns, the things that make us pause, and what it means to keep living in the middle of it all.
Still Life.
still life/ˈstil ˌlīf/
A still life is a work of art that depicts a collection of inanimate, stationary objects — such as fruit, flowers, books, or household items.
A couple of weeks ago, while recovering from a bug, I started taking photographs of things around me that made me happy.
Nothing particularly extraordinary. Just little things that caught my eye.
One afternoon, I found myself looking at the bowl of squash that we had just picked up from a local farm, sitting in a ceramic bowl. I adjusted the frame, played with the exposure, moved a little closer, and took the photograph.
And just like that, I fell a little bit in love with a bowl of squash.
Not because squash is particularly exciting (although I am prepared to defend a good squash recipe), but because, for a moment, I was completely taken by something ordinary. The colours, the shape, the light. I wasn’t thinking about what needed to happen next or what I should be doing. I was simply looking.
I didn’t know then how much taking random photos of things that make me happy would mean.
This week has been a bit of a b*tch.
Roger’s health took a turn, and I found myself sitting in a hospital waiting room, trying to make sense of what was happening. At times, I could feel panic rising, my breathing growing shallow, my mind racing ahead in search of answers.
And perhaps what unsettled me the most was that I didn’t know what to do.
I’m usually pretty good at knowing what to do. It’s part of my wiring, my work, and let’s be honest, it’s more than a little of my personality. But this was one of those moments when there was nothing to figure out immediately. We knew something had happened. We were trying to understand why. And we were sitting in that uncomfortable space between knowing something was wrong and not yet knowing what came next.
Anyone who has spent time navigating the healthcare system knows that this particular space can be exhausting.
We’re still in it. Still figuring things out. Still taking things one step at a time.
And somewhere in the middle of all of this, I’ve been thinking about what it actually means to be present.
Truth be told, holding on to Rebellious Joy sounded pretty vague and, quite frankly, slightly aggravating. Me. The founder of Rebellious Joy. The cheerleader of Rebellious Joy. The woman who believes that joy and grief can exist alongside one another.
Yeah. That girl.
It’s relatively easy to talk about living in the moment when life is cooperating. When the coffee is good, the house is tidy, the work is going well, and everyone is healthy. We can romanticize slowing down and appreciating the little things.
But what happens when life goes sideways?
When someone you love is unwell. When you’re frightened. When the answers aren’t coming quickly enough. When your mind wants to run ten steps ahead because uncertainty feels like something that needs to be solved immediately.
The anxious brain is very good at leaving the present. It travels into the future looking for solutions, revisits the past looking for explanations, and sometimes becomes so overwhelmed that even the simplest things feel difficult.
I often point to my rather lovely (and not particularly inexpensive) collection of degrees, therapy books, and resources when talking with clients about the skills I developed along the way. We learn to recognize what’s happening, how to regulate nervous systems, make room for difficult emotions, and find ways to move through experiences that once felt impossible.
But knowing something and living it are two different things.
This week, I had to remind myself of some of the very things I talk about in my office.
Breathe. Exhale. Stretch. Get up and walk. Come back to the moment you’re actually in.
And look for life.
Still, life is happening.
Still, life.
Here. Now. When things are difficult. When we don’t know what comes next.
Still life. Not just an artistic concept.
Still, Life. A Way of Being.
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Reminding myself that even here in a hospital corridor, life is happening.
There is the top of a puppy’s head that desperately needs kissing. The smell of freshly baked bread. A bowl of local squash. The warmth of a familiar hand. An ordinary task that gives your mind somewhere to rest for a moment.
These things don’t fix anything. They don’t change the test results, answer the questions, or guarantee what tomorrow will bring.
But they remind us that our lives are not made up exclusively of the things that frighten us.
And this is where I think Rebellious Joy has something important to say.
We can become so focused on getting through the difficult things, waiting for answers, waiting for circumstances to change, waiting for life to feel settled again, that we forget we’re still living in the meantime.
Not everything has to be resolved before we allow ourselves to enjoy something. We don’t have to wait for the uncertainty to disappear before we make room for pleasure, connection, wonder, or laughter.
Life doesn’t happen only when things are going well. It’s happening in the middle of all of it.
Because healing isn’t always a straight line. Sometimes the outcomes aren’t what we hoped for. Sometimes we have to make room for grief, disappointment, uncertainty, and the things we cannot control.
And sometimes, after spending a long time learning how to get through something, we find ourselves asking a different question.
What does it mean to live…today…or again?
Not simply to get through the day. Not to wait until everything settles down, the circumstances improve, or the stars finally align.
But to reclaim a little space for ourselves. To find pleasure, connection, wonder, laughter, and the things that make us feel like ourselves.
To discover that joy doesn’t require a perfect set of circumstances.
I don’t have a grand conclusion to this week’s story. Roger and I are still figuring things out. There are still questions, and there are still moments when the uncertainty feels heavy.
But I’ve been taking photographs. Little reminders to look up from whatever my mind is trying to solve and notice the life that’s happening around me.
Because perhaps that’s what still life really means to me.
Not just an artistic concept, but a way of noticing. A way of participating in the life we’re living, even when it’s complicated, uncertain, beautiful or difficult.
Still life. Still, life.
The living is happening here.
In the comfortable and the uncomfortable. In the knowing and the not knowing. In the moments we plan and the ones that take us completely by surprise.
And I don’t want to miss a thing.
An Invitation: The Still Life Project.
I’d love to invite you to be part of something I’m starting called The Still Life Project.
The idea is simple. Take a photograph of something that captures a little piece of your life right now. It might be a morning coffee, a garden, the view from your window, a favourite person, something beautiful, something ordinary, or something that simply caught your eye.
Still life isn’t just about the pretty things. It’s about noticing the life that’s happening around us…the joyful, the messy, the mundane, the uncertain and everything in between.
No explanation needed. No caption required. Just a photograph.
My hope is to build a growing gallery of these little glimpses of life, sharing submitted photographs in future editions of Rebellious Joy Daily Notes. With your permission, of course. You can choose to have your name included, remain anonymous, or simply let the photograph speak for itself. Whatever feels right to you.
I’d love to bring these little glimpses of our lives together and create a shared collection of moments that remind us that we’re all here, living this life alongside one another.
Want to participate?
Simply email your photograph to me at ana@rebelliousjoycounselling.com with Still Life Project in the subject line. Let me know whether you’d like your name included or prefer to remain anonymous.
Let’s see what life looks like through each other’s eyes.
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Still Life is part of my weekly Rebellious Joy newsletter, where I share reflections on life, relationships, the things we’re navigating, and the little moments that remind us what it means to be here, living this life.
If you enjoy this kind of writing, I’d love to have you join me. Subscribe to Rebellious Joy and have a little something from me land in your inbox each week. Let me know in the comments below!
