Recently, a family friend asked if I still actively photographed.
“Of course!” I said.
The conversation deepened, and by the very end of it, I had painted a mental animation of my life’s trajectory—
my connection to art, photography and writing since my childhood.
—
I had interests in life, but they were seasonal. Bodybuilding and Karate come to mind.
I loved them, and still do.They taught me invaluable traits: discipline, patience, endurance, devotion.
Funny enough, those qualities are what make or break you as an artist too.
It’s not enough to suffer for your art—or even to be talented.
—
I used to have great ideas, and I often began creating them. But I didn’t yet know what truly drove me—
what I stood for or what I wanted my art to stand for. That’s normal. It’s part of evolution and growth.
But here is the kicker: you have to learn to work with chaos, self-doubt, distraction, uncertainty.
Not against it.
The worst habit used to be this:
I had a great idea. I was on fire. I started.
Then life crept in, distractions, insecurity. I let go.
I told myself I’d return to it when I was good enough, but I never did.
And I punished myself for that.
—
Eventually, I stopped creating. I focused instead on my career in marketing, karate, personal development,
and understanding who Nina really was and what I wanted from the future.
I paid attention to what worked for me and what didn’t. Some decisions were brutally hard. But they had to
be made. I removed the draining, distraction, false energies from my field.
And once I did, I felt renewed.
Pieces of myself I had forgotten came rushing back and I welcomed them with open arms.
What’s most beautiful is what happens when you reclaim yourself and reconnect with your soul’s work:
You start receiving confirmation from unexpected places, in ways you could never predict.
—
By the time I returned to writing, I had changed—and so had everything else.
That fiery energy that once overwhelmed me had transformed into a controlled wildfire
It burned the old and prepared the soil for new growth.
Now, no matter what happens, I know it won’t derail me.
Even when I take time off (whether it’s a couple days or two weeks), it doesn’t extinguish the flame.
If anything, it births something even bigger, more daring, more sizzling, more alive.
—
What I am really trying to say is this:
We need time for self-exploration, doubt, trial and error, even adventure.
These aren’t setbacks. They are initiations into truth.
The key is to absorb the lessons.
To give yourself grace.
To feel the full spectrum of the human experience.
The more we resist our own depths, the farther we drift from our true calling.
Rigidity, emotional suppression and compliance?
They are the death of self-expression, authenticity and spirit.
—
Had I not lived through certain life-lessons, I wouldn’t have evolved like I did,
not as a person and especially not as a poet.
The greatest lesson I’ve learned is transmutation.
Life will challenge you.
It will knock you down.
It will test your limits and your devotion.
But everything—everything—happens for a reason. Sounds cliché but it’s true.
So yeah,
I have ten cameras.
Creative hunger.
Ridiculously high-standards for my work.
And one vision.
What about you?
