Several years ago, a woman moved to a new country with two children under the age of two. The idea of a fresh start by the sea felt exciting. That excitement faded quickly when she realized she did not know a single person. There were no friends to call, no family nearby, and no one to listen on a hard day.
She was not prepared for the deep, quiet loneliness that crept in slowly. It was not dramatic or visible to others, but a low hum of disconnection that followed her through the day. She had two children who needed her completely, and she felt grateful for them. But gratitude and loneliness existed in the same heart at the same time.
The hardest moments were the small ones. Wanting to see a friend and remembering there was no one to call. One of her children getting sick with no one to help. Watching other mothers laugh together at the park while she felt invisible. Making real friendships takes time, she learned. In the waiting, she started to disappear from herself.
She tried to meditate. She downloaded apps, sat quietly, and tried to follow her breath. She failed repeatedly. Her mind would not be still. Instead of finding peace, she found a running list of everything she had not done. For a long time, she thought something was wrong with her.
What she understands now is that she was not failing at presence. She was trying to enter it through a door that did not feel natural at that time. She needed movement before stillness. She needed color, air, curiosity, and something gentle to place her attention on.
Photography had always made her happy. Picking up a camera shifted her mood. One day, in the middle of her loneliness, she picked up her camera again. Not to create something impressive or build a portfolio. Just to go outside, walk, and see what she noticed. She broke the rules she had been taught about photography. She became a photography rebel.
She pointed her camera at whatever caught her eye, however imperfect or small. A shadow on a wall. The color of the sea on a particular afternoon. The texture of something ordinary she had passed a hundred times. Something unexpected happened. Creativity gave her worry less room to take over. When she was truly looking and feeling curious, her mind was too busy being alive to be anxious.
She calls it getting into the happy zone. A place where she forgot, temporarily, about the loneliness and exhaustion. There was guilt too, the feeling that taking time for herself was a betrayal. But she kept going back because she came home different every time. Lighter. More present. More herself.
Mindful photography gave her back her own attention. Not just attention to the world around her, but attention to herself. Noticing outward beauty slowly taught her to notice her own inner state. To ask what she needed that day and to answer honestly: fifteen minutes outside with her camera and the willingness to be playful.
She says you do not need to be a photographer. You do not need an expensive camera or technical skill. You just need your phone and fifteen minutes and the willingness to look for one thing. One color, one shadow, one small detail that catches your eye. Let yourself be curious. Forget the rules. Forget the perfect shot. Just notice. Just play.
Sometimes the thing that brings you back to yourself is not stillness. Sometimes it is the simple act of looking up and seeing what was there all along. Maja Kerin is an award-winning fine art photographer and founder of Your Daily Pause, a mindful photography practice. She helps people slow down, notice, and reconnect through simple creative pauses.
