At the end of my previous column ^[1], I explained that the title of my column, “A North­west Lens On Myeloma,” refers to where I live – the U.S. Northwest – and one of the passions in my life: photography.

I started seriously shooting photographs in 2009. By 2011, I was printing the best of my work and showing it regularly at regional art shows – first for judged prizes, and then for sale to the public.

Unfortunately, my myeloma diagnosis in 2015 significantly cut into my ability to participate in art shows. Between the time lost to appointments and the precautions necessary to avoid in­fections, particularly as I got further into treatment and closer to my transplant, I was unable to take part in as many shows as I had in the past.

Sadly, I also allowed multiple myeloma to interfere with the act of creating my art, and there is no excuse for that.

Most of my photography focuses on nature and landscapes. There are many reasons for this, but the simplest may be that I enjoy getting out by myself, often before others are out of bed, to take in the beauty of nature.

My wife and I regularly spend vacations and long weekends at the Twin Lakes in northeast Washington, and that is where I draw much of my inspiration. When I’m out shooting alone, I’m able to absorb nature, examine the light, and concentrate on interesting compositions. My full attention is on my environment and the photo­graph I’m going to create. I don’t think about work or other issues that may be vying for my attention in the real world.

Simply put, photography is very therapeutic.

Understanding this makes it all the more ironic that following my diagnosis I found it incredibly difficult to get out and shoot photographs on a consistent basis. I explained in my first column that the shock of the diag­nosis – the fear and anxiety that I felt – paralyzed me and separated me from doing the things I loved. Pho­tog­raphy was one of those things.

I knew intellectually this was happening, and my doctors and family encouraged me to reengage with my work, but I didn’t.

Up until my stem cell transplant, there was no physical disability preventing me from getting out as often as I had before my diagnosis, but I just didn’t feel motivated. I really can’t explain why I let multiple myeloma deprive me from enjoying a great passion.

I can only speak for myself, but I’m guessing other patients have found it difficult to engage in activities they enjoyed before myeloma impacted their lives. I think it may be natural to let such a dramatic change in one’s life deprive you of otherwise joyful things.

I know this isn’t true of everyone. We just need to look to the inspirational biking adventures of Ron Harvot and others in the Beacon’s discussion forum ^[2] (here, for example, is a recent biking update from Ron ^[3], de­scrib­ing a 100-mile race in which he took part). I’m afraid I’ve not been so energetic, but I intend to change that.

Recovery from my recent stem cell transplant still prevents me from going to art shows, but I can return to producing my art. In fact, I have all the incentives I need. It is important for me to get out and walk and get some light exercise. Fresh, clean air is good for me. Quiet contemplation of nature is, as I said, therapeutic and helps me be more mindful of the beauty of each day I’ve been given. Maintaining good mental health and staying happy is one of my best tools to fight this disease.

I have every reason in the world to regain my passion.

But it’s not enough for me to say it. I must do it. And that’s where this column and you, the Beacon’s readers, come in.

I plan to include a photo with each of my columns. I hope to share something that is at least remotely relevant to the theme of the day. This may be harder with some topics, but I’ll try.

Also, because it is an important part of my life, I will occasionally update you on my photography.

I encourage you to hold me to these goals, to challenge me, and to help me make sure these are not reso­lu­tions that are easily broken.

In turn, I challenge you. Look at your life. Have you allowed multiple myeloma to rob you of one of your pas­sions? What do you need to do to recapture that?

This cancer has taken so much from us already. We can’t let it deprive us of everything that makes us happy. There is so much in life I no longer control, but I have not lost control of my photography. I am determined to recapture my passion.

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I took this photo of the sunrise breaking through a tree in May 2016 during the break between my induction therapy and my stem cell transplant. It was one of the few early mornings that I got up early and out to shoot photos like I have in the past. The image is a great reminder to me why I love doing this and how rewarding it can be.

Photo copyright © 2016 Mark Pouley.