Teresa

“Will you love me in December as you do in May?” – Jack Kerouac

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// old shoot with teresa oman

dreams + reality

People talk about dreams and then people talk about reality. They usually separate the two, but I don’t. Why do they have to be separate?! Isn’t life about doing what you love EVEN if every day is a struggle, if in front of you is nothing but uphill climbs and people who don’t believe you can. Sure, not everyone has the same opportunities but everyone has been given some sort of gift that they are supposed to use. Maybe it’s the gift of creativity or athleticism or ongoing patience for all things or the ability to fix things, or grow things, or to communicate with animals, maybe you’re a teacher, or a good learner or a shaman. Whatever your given gift, that is your dream made reality.

I’m not delusional either. I know that some people have to do other things that aren’t their passion to get where they need to be. But it’s important to never give up on what fuels your fire for life. I’m determined not to give up. I’m determined to go as far it will take me.

I’ve had a lot of people in my life who didn’t believe in me but I’ve also had a lot of people who have. You always get the good with the bad. But the most important thing is to believe in yourself. Life is a constant battle but the only defeat you will suffer is when you give up on your passion; on your waking dreams.

“Where has my light gone? Where has my fight gone? What keeps us burning when the fire has long gone?” – Tha Panics

<3 Jessica Clark <3

Going through the edits of Jess. Follow her on tumblr….
http://jessicaclark.tumblr.com/

J * E * S * S * I * C * A – C * L * A * R * K

Here is a sneak peak at the shoot I did today with Jess Clark. She is an amazing woman.

there’s a fire burning in my heart.

if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me. – pablo neruda






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