You know the moment in La La Land where Emma Stone’s character returns to the Starbucks she used to work at, years after leaving for auditions — and this time everything is different, because she made it? They filmed it stunningly: the car is smooth, expensive, sleek, everything her little Prius wasn’t before. Her legs step out, heels high, the way she walks now effortlessly. Then the framing from behind — her hair perfectly done, as if that’s just how she does it now.

I almost want to compare that moment to walking into Trader Joe’s. It’s the exact opposite, because for me, change has happened throughout the whole journey of becoming who I am. It isn’t a before-and-after place. It’s a through place.

I rarely do leisurely picnic-basket prep like I did the first few times I went there in my twenties — I miss those days. It’s the kind of place I roll into just as I am: in sweats, in jeans, in a workout outfit, never fancy. And if I ever did dress up, it’d probably be because there was an emergency, and I’d be a hot mess in my head anyway — no one would even notice. It’s a through place for me.

I was talking to a friend Sabrina the other day about AI, spelling errors, and how we both just wanted to see some misspelled words now and again to know it’s an actual human. She said, “Give me messy — sometimes I just need messy.” For me, change looks messy, because it isn’t linear. It winds. It doubles back. It spirals. And that, I can do.

For most of us, cultivating our dream job happens throughout the ordinary geography of our lives — in the in-and-outs of it, through shopping trips that are equal parts special and just plain necessary.

Change is a two-step-forward, one-step-back sort of existence. Sometimes you’re creating where nothing existed before. Other times you’re rehabilitating what was already there, trying to make it into the thing you couldn’t get out of your head. That’s still progress — and it’s rarely perfect, even if it seems delightful to walk away and come back brand-new (thank you, Ben Rector — I love that song and I love that idea). It just hasn’t been my story.

Change is not always graceful or tidy, and I’m not always glowing with confidence. Sometimes I look overworked, haggard, like my whole self-worth is tied up in whether I accomplished enough — or like I just threw something on and got to it.

The other day I was explaining to someone exactly where I was with everything I was facing, and he said, “If you would handle all these other things in the same way that you shoot, things would go a lot easier for you.” That landed.
When I shoot, I feel God’s presence. I have no choice but to surrender — to the wind, the sun, the elements I can’t actually control, just watching them collide into a beautiful symphony I only get to witness and capture.

And that same week, with the computer and business stuff, I noticed I’d approached it with a self-made mindset instead — demanding that I produce, grind, until I could barely function, let alone begin or finish anything.

My friend Trevor pointed out I was operating from a “by-me” consciousness — the weight of everything I wanted was on my shoulders to make happen, and I was crumbling under it. What if I approached the computer stuff the way I approach a shoot? Because through me is my normal. You’ve probably heard me say that if I’m doing my job as a photographer right, I’m a vessel to your style. I often work in this “through me” state — the same one innovators, musicians, and writers describe when they say their ideas came through them, almost by accident. It’s a state of impulse and gut feeling, a dynamic dance with life. Like today: the email I got, the grass I was watering, the song that played right after the one I wanted to hear — all part of the beautiful flow.

But I also feel, at times, myself wavering — holding these small moments in awe, while the to-do list I time-blocked sits there, and I’m not terribly behind on it, but I’m aware of it.

I might never have the Emma Stone, Starbucks transformation moment where everything changes all at once. Still, I will embrace this Trader Joe’s, passing-through place — with so much grace for myself — where things flow, where I run into people and have the conversations I was supposed to have, where I nourish myself, my family, and my friends by gathering up ingredients. And that to-do list? I believe I’ll get to it in the right time, or else let it go, and remember I’m enough without it, if I need to be.

I heard a song by Ben Rector once and loved it, but never heard it again — until this week, when it came back around. Turns out Cody Fry originally released it, but Ben has his own version on the Walking in Between album. It’s different. His differentiating line stayed with me: “the difference is believing I’ll make it.”

So, for all of you doing ordinary life while becoming the incredible versions of yourselves — I see you. I love that we can raise our sails together and trust that God can work through us.

As we become, I get that it’s hard to see the change while we’re still inside the story. Sometimes we have to wait to witness what’s happening in us. But the change you’re seeking can happen — and it may be closer than you think. I don’t want you to give up on your dreams.

If you don’t agree, I might have to find your house and blare my horn, like Ryan Gosling.