When Lori Blachford began rethinking her bucket list, she decided to try her hand at painting. The result: a little portrait of a bunny. Photo: Duane Tinkey
Writer: Lori Blachford
A few years ago, I kicked my bucket list to the curb. I was navigating what turned out to be a seven-year journey through health crises (not my own), filled with impossible decisions (all mine). That neglected list of big dreams seemed to be mocking me.
So I started thinking smaller. I call them bucket-list minis. Like the candy bars, these little treats are big enough to satisfy a hunger for joy and adventure, but small enough to unwrap in a few weeks or less. Best of all, minis aren’t goals written down and waiting to be checked off. They are opportunities you snatch up as you find them. These are experiences like:
A 2-hour blacksmithing workshop. I highly recommend pounding on hot iron to relieve stress.
A 3-week playwriting class. Crafting a 10-minute play and having local actors deliver a public reading was both intimidating and exhilarating.
Painting a 4×4-inch canvas. The public library hosted an all-ages art exhibition. Being outdone by 6-year-olds kept me humble.
Piano lessons. Could I learn to play just one song really well? After two sessions, I was called away for an emergency. Maybe I’ll get back to that one.
These little challenges helped me regain some sense of control over my life. I could take risks, try new things and still handle all my responsibilities. And I learned something every time, especially about myself.
That was certainly true for the most uncomfortable mini I’ve tackled so far: a 10-minute session with a professional photographer. I had been making do with an amateur headshot for too long.
Signing up was easy. Pick a date. Pick a time. Pay the fee. See you there. But it started to get complicated with the confirmation email, which included tips on what to wear. Will I need to go shopping? And contact information for a makeup artist. Are they talking to me?
The build-up to that 10-minute session turned into two months of swirling self-doubt: How long does it take to lose 20 pounds? … I really do need new glasses. … What have I gotten myself into? … Should I color my hair?
Having people focus on my actions is one thing; having them focus on my face is another. I seriously considered skipping the appointment, on the way to the appointment.
A small group of put-together people were waiting in the lobby. I joined them in a blouse and sweater from my closet and, since they wouldn’t show in the photo, my most worn and comfortable jeans (like Linus and his blanket). No special hair or makeup; I wanted the photo to look like me.
When it was my turn, the photographer greeted me warmly and asked me to take a seat in front of a solid black backdrop. A wall of windows filled the space with sunshine. She started taking photos right away, coaching me to turn my head, lift my chin, smile, drop my shoulders, breathe.
When she paused to look at her camera screen, I stood up.
Me: “So that’s it then.”
She: “What? No. It’s only been 2 minutes.”
Me: “Oof.”
So, we carried on. I leaned toward the door the whole time, while she tried to make me want to stay. “What a beautiful smile.” (I would have paid double for her to put down the camera and just shower me with compliments.) “You’re glowing.” (That was sweat, of course. My glasses kept fogging up.)
We tried different poses. We made each other laugh. The photographer was amazing; I wanted to take her to coffee. We lasted six minutes.
I left the studio glad I had done it and glad it was over. A few days later an email arrived with a link to photos, requesting that I choose my top two. One click, and there they were: 18 Loris looking back at me, the way they looked to the photographer that day.
I could see how uncomfortable I was that day. It was in my eyes, in that almost-smile. But a closer examination also revealed happiness, confidence, even courage. I don’t even look this closely at myself in a mirror.
Sorting through those photos became a lesson in looking and being seen. We take pictures with our phones all the time, but do we really appreciate what’s there in front of us? I try to be more mindful these days.
When it comes to bucket-list minis, takeaways like that are treasures. They keep me looking for the next opportunity.
And I’m thinking bigger again. Some items on my original bucket list seem possible, like spending a month in Greece or restoring an old VW bus. Or maybe I’ll write a book. I have a terrific photo for the author’s page.
Contributor Lori Blachford, a former journalism professor at Drake University, provides communications and marketing strategies for a number of Central Iowa nonprofits.
