Ask Ash: 'I Want to Touch the Sky but Everyone Keeps Telling Me I Am Being Stupid'

To hell with living a safe, tedious, obvious life. Chase the biggest, brightest thing you can imagine.

Dear Ash,

Hello from the midwest, where the majestic scent of cow shit is currently seeping into my nasal passage. But don’t worry, I’m not complaining: people from the midwest never complain. We are also reluctant to do a host of other things, including confrontation, any type of interaction that isn’t characterized by passive aggressiveness, and saying goodbye without it being awkward. Have you ever heard of the Midwestern Goodbye? IT IS BRUTAL. We’re talking fifteen rounds of polite ‘I’d better be going now’ before someone will finally leave your house at 11PM, right before you get arthritis.

Another thing we seem to be bad at? Taking risks when it comes to our careers. That’s the real reason I’m writing today. I have an idea for a business, but everyone around me is, shall I say, less than enthusiastic. My mother thinks I’d be a fool for leaving my stable, dependable job as a nurse. (‘You don’t know how good you got it.’) My aunt shares her opinion and thinks I shouldn’t do anything ‘rash.’ My friends joke around and make comments about what ‘crazy’ idea I’ll come up with next. Everyone seems to be on ‘Team Don’t Rock the Boat.'

I look around and wonder: is something wrong with me? Why can’t I just be happy? But the truth is, I’m terrified of turning into a lukewarm old lady with pleated pants and trouble hearing. I look at all of the people I work with at the hospital, many of which are my senior, and they’re just so empty. They’re resigned. They’re robotic. They’re spiritless. They’re worn down from thirty-some years doing the daily grind. The same exact routine every day. The same people, and the same pettiness, and the same persnickety opinions. Everything here feels so small.

Last year, in an effort to figure out what I was actually passionate about, I picked up a camera and started photographing everything I saw. Ducks, ponds, skies, fields, buildings, people, and…flowers. And, for the first time, I actually saw what kind of incredible beauty was around me. Flowers, in particular, became my muse. I started photographing every flower I saw. And that’s when I discovered the world of garden photography.

I love flower & garden photography! Who knew that was a thing?!

I started following some of the best flower photographers in the world, and their work just AMAZES ME. Some of them are fine art floral photographers (like Jamie Beck, omg), some of them photograph personal estates and gardens for magazines (like Jason Ingram, swoon!), some of them work for commercial companies and corporate advertising campaigns (like Julie Skelton, ggaaaAAAahhhhHHHHHhhhh), some of them sell their own prints and make courses (like Jayne Margaret), and there’s even an entire publication dedicated to flowers. HOW FUN & MAGICAL & INCREDIBLE THIS ALL IS.

Bottom line: I can think of nothing more I’d rather do in my second act. Who doesn’t want to photograph gorgeous flowers for a living? There’s just one problem: everything. I don’t have any experience, I don’t have any contacts, I don’t have a portfolio to show to anyone, I don’t know even know if I’m any good, I don’t know how to get clients, and I’m worried there’s not a market for this where I live, out here in the midwest. I’m suffering from a massive case of imposter syndrome, and a fledgling sense of self-confidence.

What if everyone’s right? What if I’m just being a foolish naive dreamer who should just go back to the nurse’s station, suck it up, and be an adult?

Signed,

I Want to Touch the Sky But Everyone Keeps Telling Me I’m Being Stupid

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Dear Sky Toucher (does that sound pervy???),

WE ARE LONG-LOST SISTERS. I was just saying how I obsessively follow garden photographers in the UK, because the UK has this whole garden culture, and it’s one of my favorite things about the UK, and also WHY AREN’T WE LIVING THERE??? What are we doing? Are we drunk? Let’s all just move to the English countryside and take photographs of flowers and then eat some blueberry scones and live happily ever after. (With Hugh Grant as our neighbor and really expensive candles that obviously we can all afford.)

Which brings me to my first point: I am so fucking proud of you. I am so fucking proud of you for taking yourself seriously, for taking your passions seriously, and for taking your life seriously. How many of us just…lay idle in silent misery? For years, for decades, for an entire lifetime, all because it’s hard to figure out what else to do. It’s hard to make a change when there’s so many unknowns, but you are putting in the work to know. The very fact that you went out, followed your instincts, and just picked up a camera in the first place is sensational. That’s the critical 1% work. Your pleasure was a clue, and you listened. There is so much wisdom in your pleasure. Your pleasure is a treasure map of your potential. And yet, most of us spend so much of our lives toiling away, feeling guilty for any time spent in leisure. We think of leisure as being self-indulgent and childish; something that’s a luxury, and probably for other people, who have somehow “earned” it. But, here’s the truth about leisure: it is necessary ingredient for happiness. When you are experiencing joy, you are at leisure. You are relaxed. You are open. You are calm. You are at ease. You are free.

And that is well-being.

How could a person who is all of those things—relaxed, open, calm, at ease, and free to experiment with their life—be unwell? This, to me, is the real goal of our time here on earth: to be as whole and full and as pleased as possible. What else in life is there?

To which I say: the more something brings you pleasure, the more seriously it must be taken. We tend to do the opposite, withholding pleasure until we ‘deserve’ it. Until it’s ‘justified.’ Until we’ve done enough miserable, cheerless crap, that we can finally ‘be bad’ and ‘sneak in some time’ to ‘play.’

This is an outdated operating system. In the past, work was never supposed to be fun. And play was something you earned. And sure, that’s fine if you’re a balding middle-aged man living in the 1950s. But today, in the modern economy, we can now do something revolutionary: we can make money from play. From pleasure. From the things we enjoy. The internet changed everything, forever—except most people have had their heads shoved so firmly up corporate’s arse, they haven’t been able to realize it yet.

HERE IS HOW THIS WORKS: