Get Uncomfortable

I have the greatest portfolio of “almost & what ifs” in the world. Seriously it's the premier collection of missed opportunities. It is the top-ranking accumulation of me thinking “I should go do that.”  It is a testament to daydreaming laziness.

This body-of-non-work, unwritten, never-published creativity is filled up with music, photos, short stories, deep thoughts, impactful films that would have changed the world. Yes, ushering into world peace to the planet, curing of disease, feeding the hungry, and helping him to finally fall in love with you…blissful life for all...only if I created the work.

Deep apologies to all. I did not.

Instead I sat frozen, watching the compositions drift in and out of my opportunity to capture it.

Arts only purpose is to serve. We can do three thing in the image of God: love, forgive and create.  Why is it so damn hard to create something new and share it??

At this exact moment I am forcing myself to write this. Why bother? There is beer in the fridge, 600 channels of tv to watch and an extremely non-motivated human who would rather take a nap.

But I sit at the keyboard typing, backspacing and deleting my way to what your are reading now. As I type I am listening to music by an artist that I am endlessly impressed with the flow of work he puts out. The room that I sit in is filled with photos, guitars, paintings, camera gear, journals, and books. It is a sacred cathedral to the act of creativity and I am sitting on the altar.  This is a good place to insert a false prophet joke…it's been my life's secret ambition to be a self-proclaimed false prophet…just a little FYI about me.

I keep staring at this photo (above). Novice - Expert...and the arrows are pointing in the same direction. This is the lesson I must learn: there is not much that separates the two. You must move in the same direction to create. I ask myself “am I an expert or novice at the act of creating?” Sometimes I think the only difference between novice and expert is the amount of taxes that you pay in a year. Many so-called experts fall back into the world of being a novice; not having the passion to create daily. Many novices sit blissful in the creating process never needing the glory of the outside world's applause. These few are the enlightened ones (yep they get on my nerves to).

About a year ago I stopped referring to myself as a photographer. Composition junkie...that's a better description of what I do.  The label of photographer created conflict in me that I had to live up to. The label meant that my other artistic callings were of lesser importance. I am infinitely curious about creativity and the affect of the creative process on the world. See, I truly believe that I could have brought about world peace only if…..

Last week I created a short film that I am very proud of.  In truth I am proud of the experience of creating it. I faced the resistance of my thoughts. That was the outcome that I love about the film.  It was in the doing, the creating, in confronting the uncomfortable. I am in my car waiting at a red light on the corner and outside the driver's side window are two people singing and asking for money. They look…weathered, authentic...they have a story...I feel it. Immediately I tell myself that this could go in my collection of “almost & what ifs.”

For some mystical reason I drive home and grab my gear and go back to that same intersection, wondering the whole time on the drive back if they already left. I figure out questions in my head to ask them. I was thinking about framing, exposure and music. I pull back into the plaza and they are still there. I park my car and set up my gear. I proceed to walk up to them (big personal achievement for me) and I tell them that I am a photographer and short filmmaker and that I would like to record them for a few minutes. I hand them a twenty dollar bill and they agree to play a couple of songs and answer my questions.

Validated; I faced my fear and talked to strangers. This is big for me. At that moment I created something new that is going into the "real portfolio", which is to say, stuff that people can actually see, actually search in Google for, something that will be achieved on my blog for the foreseeable future.

Next week I will start two new projects. I am moving in a direction of changing myself to be uncomfortable. Why? I need to stretch and go where I have never gone before. Creating is discovery first, repetition second. I have realized that I am good at doing this but as of late I fear that I have been doing the same thing. I am discovering that I am getting too good at repetition. I need to play some bad notes, need to see out of focus, I need to play in traffic.

Get uncomfortable, 1000 failures…this is the conversation that I been having with a good friend of mine.

How do you get better at creating stuff?

Get uncomfortable.

How To Get Better at Creating

I am out on a walk today and the thought occurred to me: how does stuff get created?

Creating stuff is how I earn my living.  Deconstructing my creative process; is that possible?

The last thing I created was a song with my music partner, Erik. As I walked I analyzed the process of creating new music with him.

I thought about how magical the moment of creating is. What control do I really have over this thing that I created?

Then I thought about all the pre-work, the woodshedding, the practice that brought me to sit across the room from him and play music.

That is step one...the doing: dream big but you must do the work. Get good at doing.

Magic and handwork go hand in hand when creating something new. This is an enigma that I will gladly hold true to my heart. Fingers, strings, and a piece of wood is an endless problem that I have no need to solve.  Yet, I know if I continue to put in the time and do the work, musical gifts will be rewarded.  That does not resolve my question, “how do things get created?”

We sit in this small room four feet a part.  Erik holding a Fender stratocaster, me holding a Fender Jazz bass.  We toss out musical ideas that we have been playing with... not songs, but small zygotes in the earliest developmental stage of music.

A groove presents itself. Something from nothing arises, something new.

We move into a state of repetition.  Simply playing the groove over and over to see what presents itself. We look up at each other and know that we have stumbled onto something good.

Repetition is step two.  Repetition is the next step after practicing. It's about going deeper into whatever may turn up. It's about exploring. Possibilities are discovered in repetition.  There is joy in repetition.

Great things arise out of shit.  It's an uncomfortable thought for sure, nonetheless repetition brought us to this new piece of music.

Music is now alive and with us, within our control. Repetition leads to release and the music becomes transformative. All academic approach to music is gone; fingers and string, revelations and reverberations...this is music.

Release is step three. At the point of release you no longer ask the question of why or how; conscious thought dissolves and you become a witness (or listener) to what has emerged. Release is a phenomena yet it is a phenomena with a purpose.

Erik and I are both “do-ers” of music.  We are good at picking up our instruments and running our hands up and down the neck.  Practicing our instrument is not a chore. Practicing our instrument is an escape.  Repetition leads to a release. That is the religious framework that sets us up to go deeper into the mystery.  Staying with the mystery is the mystical experience of where something new comes from.

Step four, stay with the mystery.

Creating things feels good. Writing this feels good. Playing guitar feels good. Whatever you create I am sure that it feels good. Being present at the moment of creating feels good.

Skeptics may criticize that my experiential ramblings are for not; that music is a scholarly skill that is rooted in scales and chart.  That creating is a scientific study not to be overly romanticized.

I will leave you with this thought:

There are three things that you can do in the image of God:
...love, forgive and create.

On Fatherhood ~ Essay

Fatherhood?

I think I am a good dad.

I do my best to keep that perfect balance of tickles and discipline. The evenness of "clean your room & go outside and get dirty". The symmetry of “eat your veggies & one more piece of candy." The counterbalance of "if you do this then you can go do that."

This blog that you are reading today is nothing more than a love letter to my daughter. This blog, all 1,814 posts, is me.  It's my thoughts, hopes, desires, my worldview...it's what I learned and it holds the questions about what I wish to know. It's an archive of all the stuff that I have created.  It's filled with lists of book that I read and music that I have listened to, and with all that said...it's only purpose is for my daughter to know who her Father was.  To know who I am becoming.  Maybe to understand a little more about herself.

My current project is a collaboration with Erik Vecere, which is a short film on Fatherhood. Erik works for National Fatherhood Initiative.  "Initiative." Interesting word.  A non-profit company dedicated to helping Fathers become better Fathers.  Who knew that an organization for helping dads existed??  Things they don’t tell you when a newborn baby is placed in your arms.  In case of emergency go here...do go there. Lots of interesting stuff. www.fatherhood.org

 At the end of our film Erik said the words "A unique, irreplaceable role, and that's Fatherhood."

That sentence struck a chord with me, resonated deeply. I haven't been able to shake the question "Am I good at being a Dad?"

The opening paragraph above is me rambling about the greatness of the father that I am. Beware, I also feel that I am extremely good looking and even more talented than my good looks. Read on to see how well an ego like mine can father a child.

To give you engaged reader some context: I am 44yrs old and as I write this in three days my daughter will turn eight. Eight years into the journey of parenting a child seems like a good time to be evaluated.

Evaluation. Let's start there.  Who gets to evaluate my Fathering skills? My wife, Grandparents, community, CYS, God, my daughter, myself. Answer is....my spouse first and coming in a close second place is a tie between God and myself.  I am not afraid to go one-on-one with God.  God doesn’t gives hugs, I do.

I do not do drugs, haven't been to jail, I go easy on the swears and I have never beaten her.  Give myself a big check for doing the minimum; keeping myself out of Hell and bragging about the obvious.

This is a good time to go back and re-read that sentence about my ego.  We have read books, climbed trees, walked in the woods, roughhoused to the point of having her Mother yell at us to stop making all that noise (countless times), mastered the monkey bars, learned how to swim, shared quiet meals together. We hold hands, snuggle, rub noses like Eskimos, held long interesting talks at bedtime about the meaning of life (honestly I think that she's just doing her best to stay up longer).

Is all of that also just the minimum? In a Homer Simpson world of fat dads in sitcoms what is a good Father?

Yes, I know that there is no simple answer and yes I know that the simple answer is: asking yourself the question in the first place must mean I am moving in the right direction. Yes, I know that Fatherhood is a journey, not a destination.  With all that said then why bother evaluating myself or writing on?

Zen proverbs "before enlightenment chop wood after enlightenment chop wood." That's my "why". Let's carry on.


I am present, I am occupied by life, hell I am even occupied by laziness and TV. I will share everything with her, I will give up my life for her but I am sure to eat the last piece of pizza. I will watch her sleep at night.  Her tiny little chest rises and falls with each breath she takes.  That experience alone is all the proof for God's existence that I will ever need.  No matter how crazy a kid can kill your last never (and even your will to live) watching your baby sleep magically evaporates all the anguishes away, giving you the much need life-juice to get up in the morning and do it all again.


I come from good Fatherhood-stock.  My Father and Grandfather are good men, husbands and dads. They are from a different time and a different culture of what it meant to be a Father. They were providers first, husbands second and fathers third.  In no way did either of these men fall short.  It was how culture dictated the importance of Fatherhood.  In today's world, us Dads are doing it all (or at least doing our best to catch up to our Wives who are really doing it all).

To be a good Father, does that mean I must put myself third?

For me, yes it does. Not in a self-sacrificing way; remember I will eat that last slice of pizza, every time. In my heart, my family's happiness comes first.  To watch my daughter and my wife live life to there fullest, that is my first place.  Before anybody wants to Saint me read on (Note: this is written specifically to my wife.  I have said the words "dream big and do the work" over and over but also remember that I am extremely cheap, seriously frugal, opening the wallet is hard for me, so to you I say “dream big but please goes easy on the dollars”.)

Multiple purpose parenting: Who knew it was possible?

I have come to discover that I can cut the grass, cook a meal and then put ponytails into my daughter's hair. Honestly I am not very good at ponytails, dinners or even picking out clothes that match, but, hey...she made it to eight. She can pick out her own clothes from now on.

As of late I find myself with other Fathers having conversations on this topic. Gone are the days of football and hot wings. Today we sip coffee and talk about the joys and insecurities of being a dad. I guess I would have to say this is a good starting point if you are asking yourself if you are a good Dad.

As I finish typing this, my daughter sits downstairs in front of the TV alone eating dinner. That happens at times. Remembering the words "A unique, irreplaceable role, and that's Fatherhood." I get up from my chair and go downstairs. Vecere’s word still resonate deep within me.

For me, I think I need to go chop more wood, enlightenment can wait.

The Conversation

The Conversation

I have been avoiding having a conversation with myself about photography and my place in it. This is going to be a rather long post with a mix of rants and a release of things I need to say.

As a photographer I want to share and learn from others. Although creating a photo is a singular experience that cannot be shared with others, this is where my struggle starts.

Throughout my creative life I have been toting around a guitar, a camera and a journal, neither tool being more important than the other. This is how I like to work. Photography has been the most financially rewarding but it has been equal to music and writing in my artistic endeavors.

For a long time I have thought of myself as a working artist not limited to a single title or tool (which I still do).

I have been drawn to the conversation between musicians and writers. In my experience musicians and writers have a collective-collaborating-brothers-in-arms attitude. In photography that community familiarity has been missing for me.

Two musicians can sit across a room and create a single piece of music. Two writers can share in dialogues creating a single narrative; two painters can create a single mural. In photography we cannot share in creating an exposure. This creates a limitation to the tool and a gift to the process: one photographer, one exposure, and one singular creation.

In photography the best we can do is share ideas, tips and help to critique, which we do…sometimes. There is plenty of information being shared on the Internet. The web 2.0 open-source culture has created a mountain of re-worked, re-hashed and re-mixed ideas. Tweets, Facebook updates and how-to-articles (of which I have contributed plenty) have over four hundred million results when entering a Google search for the term “photographer”.

But there is no conversation; it is reactive, lacking the collective – collaborating process.

All too often in my last couple of years of teaching (Photo 101) people keep asking me for a map: a how-to-list on how to create a photo. There is no map...only understanding your tools, light and your own personal journey behind the camera.

This is where I have fallen short as a teacher: properly explaining the “what” and the “when” of becoming a photographer.

The understanding of how to use your camera in Manual, or how creating a photograph with the proper exposure does not make you a photographer any more than knowing how to use a hammer and saw does not make you a carpenter.

But photography is not a collective-collaborating experience. So when is it ok to consider yourself a photographer, and not just a person who owns a camera? There is no one correct answer to that question but there are some strong guidelines that I would recommend.

You might be considered a photographer…
~When you find that you are taking 10,000 or more photos a year.
~When you can create the image that you want to see, not the image your camera gives to you.
~ When you can problem solve in any light condition, effortlessly
~ When you no longer feel “If I only had that piece of equipment my photos would be better.”

When to go pro?
~ When you understand photography is not a profession, it’s a craft. Profession entails a great deal more.
~ When you can be honest with yourself and ethical to your clientele about your skill and experience level.
~When you are no longer surprised when you take a good, it is expected.
~When you are 100% accountable and know that you can deliver great photos, daily.
~When your surrounding professional photography community accepts you as a peer, not a hack.

I understand everything I just said is completely subjective and every point can be refuted. But that is the point; if you find that you need to define or explain why you’re a photographer, than you’re not.

No amount of equipment, technology, or Google research can make you a photographer. The only way to become a good photographer is by daily practice with purpose and effort, that and only that will develop you into a photographer.

I believe deeply in the power of creativity but this is where I have also fallen short in my teaching.

I have taught people how to use their camera (minimally at that, remember it’s just photo 101) and some have taken that to mean that they can now consider them selves pro. I do not wish to cut off anybody’s dream of becoming a photographer but I do want to plead to you to make the jump slowly, with caution and respect.

I do urge you to take photos, create something new daily because you love the process of creating and because you love the feel of the camera in your hands. Because you cannot imagine yourself not taking photos because you feel regret when you leave the house without your camera in hand, when your dreams and nightmares are about photography.

Photography is a limitless lifetime journey, enjoy the process, take great photos and share them.

With the fear of sounding like a grumpy old photographer myself, have this conversation with yourself.

Be ethical to the craft of photography. A photo is not a collective-collaborating process, know thy self….

Be Creative: Manifesto Part 2

Part 2 of 2

Have we lowered our standards of creative intelligence to wait and see what the machine replicates?

Great things come out of crap. A couple of examples: the universe, the soil, our food, death to rebirth. It is all based on the idea that great things come out of crap.

This gets me to the purpose of this manifesto on “Be Creative”.

What is the purpose of life? To entertain the rest of nature, Gary Snyder wrote that and it’s true. Humans were created last, be it of God’s will or the last thing the primordial ooze of evolution got to. We were placed on this planet after everything else was done. We are only here to entertain the rest of nature.

Create something new, daily, that is your purpose. Creativity entertains, heals and sustains life; it is what we were pre-destined to do.

If we leave creativity to the machines, it is as if we are committing suicide. Consciously attempting to will ourselves out of existence. What is left for humanity when creativity is done by machines? What then is our purpose?

You want to know how to live to your fullest potential? It is done by creating something new, daily. Great things come from crap. Make mistakes, fail often, this will lead to acts of discovery.


I have dreams of becoming a motivational speaker on “Be Creative”. You know; late night infomercials, book tours, conversations with Oprah, Barbra Walter’s 10 most fascinating people of the year. I foresee the whole gamut of possibilities in my head.

I believe in the power creativity, beyond that I believe it is our only purpose to live on this planet. I believe everything we do is a creative act if we purposely choose it to be. Education, child rearing, cooking, prayer, exercise. “Be Creative” is the forethought of the “why” of doing what we choose to do. What we choose to place purpose and effort into.

Being creative will cure disease, it will help you sleep better, it will help you lose weight, it will help you connect better with others…it is the fountain of youth. Can you now in-vision my conversation on Oprah (Welcome to the show, the guru on “Be Creative”. I’ll come out dressed only in white robes, it will be trippy.)

Ok, so I am getting a little new age-y. Let me finish off with one last new age-y thing then I will get back to the real life.

Embracing our artistic-ness is the next wrung on the evolutionary ladder of life. It is human nature to seek purpose…this is it.

Your purpose is to be creative. Go out into the world and create great things out of crap. If you work in accounting be creative, think different. If you work in construction, think out loud, share your ideas. If you’re a teacher embrace your ideas that are already swirling around in your head.

Creativity is only thought, don’t let the machine do it for you. Your purpose is to make this world a better place through your artistic thoughts and actions. Share what you created, give it away, brag about it, get feedback, share ideas and most importantly live…for that is why you were created.

Art’s purpose is to serve. Serve it well.

Be Creative: Manifesto

Part 1 of 2

I am beginning to feel more and more like a defender of the creative dharma. In all of my classes and workshops on photography I utter the phrase repeatedly, “you cannot purchase your way to being a better photographer.”

A photograph is everything that happens before the snap of the shutter. I do mean everything; every book that you read, every movie that you watch, every walk that you have taken, every conversation that you have had. A photograph is the history of the person holding the camera, a true perspective.

A photographer is only a photographer for his ability to see. To truly see the world though a lens equally physically, mentally and spiritually; this is how to create. Photographs evolve on their own, a photographer has to evolve to keep the creative dharma alive.

Photography is not “wait and see”. So many times I watch budding photographers shooting in Auto mode and critique their photos after capture. A photo is not a remix of what the computer inside your camera took. The purpose of a photograph is to create the image you want, not to wait and see.

I have started to ask the question: is the digital age making us less creative?

It seems that we are in a culture of mash-up and re-mixes of yesterday’s works. A culture of how to react without ever placing effort into the original act of creating a photo, or whatever medium you chose to work in.

The digital age has been a blessing for me, don’t get me wrong, I do not want to go back to the analog age (except for albums, bring them back) and I definitely do not want to go back to the darkroom or even film. Still the question that I raise is, “is our dependence on technology to fix things killing our will create things?”

More times than not I get asked the question for a “how-to map” on how to fix things after capture than I do on how to create things in camera. There is no map, only a journey.

Great things come out of crap. Believe it. A great cellist can play beautiful music on a crap of a cello. A pristine instrument is preferred, but the music is in the hands, mind and heart of cellist. Why should it be any different for a photographer?

It does not matter how smart our machines-computers-camera have become. Photography is about the person holding the camera, not the machine. People create, machines warehouse our work.

Slow Photography Movement

Let me start with a story of how this idea came to me.

Scrolling through the blog of one my favorite local photographers (&person) she had posted this photo.

When I look at this photograph I often wish I had the opportunity to take this photo.

I do not know how this particular photo was taken. I can’t even venture a guess, at least not a good one...yet. It has me thinking….maddening yet wonderful thought about how I can do this.

I am not looking to plagiarize Joanne's work but I desperately want to be a chameleon to it…

Joanne's photo paired with my recent workshops, photo walks, conversations and e-mail discussions has me thinking about what is a complete photograph?

For me the least important thing to a great photos is the snap of the shutter; I am most interested in what happens before capture.

Composition, environment, emotions & inspiration…

The things that I do not care to know: Type of camera, camera setting, what lens, software, and post-production work was done.

If I can make an artistic guess it would be that this photo was completed in Joanne’s mind's eye long before it was captured in camera.

This photo brings me back full circle to a question that I asked on Facebook last week: What is the “Right” problem to fix in photo-education?

Thank you to all who answered. Your responses were remarkable, appreciated and the foundation for this article.

The feedback I gained can be listed in three categories/problems that need to be addressed.

Ethics, Ego & Stuff

A photograph is none of these things. A photograph begins with a thought.

A photograph is not: an obsession with equipment, an ability to purchase gear, it is not biz skills nor people skills, it is not using auto-canned-modes on your camera, hell it's not even about being able to shoot in Manual mode. (Manual mode is super important…. it’s your foundation)

I would ask photographers to think about their craft as:

Art, Morals and Truth

Tackling the right problem, that is struggle. Expanding your range of options rather than narrowing your perspective. A photograph is about YOU, not buying into someone else’s techniques or tips. It is about you developing and eye and situational problem skills.

Joanne's photograph has me thinking about how to weave patterns to discover interesting stories. And to question the purpose of how it was imagined. And doing all this while removing boundaries of what my conception of visual art is.

For a good two weeks I have been thinking about this photo and never once have I picked up my camera to try to replicate it. I can honestly tell you that I am a better photographer today than I was two weeks due to this process.

Slow Photography Movement…what is it????

It a philosophy about photography on how to transform and include yesterday's foundation of photography with the technologies that photography has to offer today. It is about the all-encompassing topics of art, morals and truth.

This is the start of a conversation; join in…more to come on this topic.

Let’s discuss….

Music

Wednesday evening I watched The Music Instinct: Science and Song. Next week I will watch The Musical Mind hosted by Oliver Sacks. The effect that music has on man is a wondrous marvel. I have read numerous books on the subject asking myself, why seek an answer when the answer is not needed? Music is good. Music heals. Music is purposeful. Why seek a deeper understanding? I do, no idea why but I search for a deeper understanding of music.

The world is divided in different ways – we are either born to the west or to the east. Our politics either lean left or to the right, we either follow the teachings of evolution or the faith of creation and in the end we all sing, dance and celebrate life with music.

Man was the last thing to appear on this Earth. First there was land, then plants then animals. Then man was created to complete the natural world. Music was last. Gary Snyder writes – “we are here to entertain the rest of nature”. I think he is right. In times of war send the musicians in first. I like that.

With music I can condition myself on multiple levels. This morning I was up at 6am, showered, yoga and then practicing Bach. I listen to music while doing yoga to focus my breath and lower my hear rate. I pick up my guitar and practice Bach because I am compelled to. I get in my car and listen to the music of Edgar Meyer while driving to relax my mind.

My daughter dances, she listens intensely to music at the age of 3 ½. It is part of who she is. My wife sings lullabies to calm her, songs to get her to pick up her toys, songs of play and songs of time to eat. My daughter will ask me to play my guitar fast then slow then “let me try” as she bangs and strums.

Music is good.

On God - Deism ???

A comment was recently left on a posting of mine titled “On Being an Artist”. In that essay there is a paragraph where I compare man’s art creations to God’s creations, neither one have power over created work once released to the world.

Commenter wrote, “Your simplified version of 18th century deism displays much inconsistency of thought.” Commenter also wrote “One has to look no further than your own website to see that men obsess over their creations.” For the record I love both of these comments and I responded back to the commenter thanking him for his thought-provoking comments.

What follows is the thought-provoking stuff inspired by the commenter.

It’s true that man (especially me) obsesses over their creations…does God? I don’t know but my heart tells me that s/he does.

After reading the original comment the first thing I did was to look up the word “Deism”.

Deism – (per Wikipedia) God does not intervene with the functions of the natural world.

I am ok with that…is it true? I do not know nor care. Am I a hypocrite? Most likely, I practice meditation and believe in the power of prayer. Buddha spoke of being comfortable with your contradictions. I am.

I no longer wrestle with existential questions or feel guided by a transcendental purpose but I do miss walking in the woods.

Walking in the woods is the only place that I felt guided by my inner voice and felt the presence of God. It was never a radically transforming experience, but it was enough for me to stop seeking answers about God and to start experiencing God’s creations.

For me it does not matter if God only created DNA and then became a spectator of her/his creation leaving evolution to dispose through benevolent acts.

It does not matter to me if God hand-created each and every one of us. Or if s/he only hand picks a chosen few to communicate through.

It does not matter to me if God is a dormant muscle or gene that is held deep inside of us waiting to be developed through spiritual practice and exercises.

God could be: law, grace, art, three persons making up a single body, all of Gaia or the single heartbeat inside your chest…I am ok with that.

Our spiritual history can be flawed and layered with imperfections and still have deep impactful meaning in which to live your life by. I am ok with that.

God is a mystery and I am ok with that. Never fight the oblivious…never - and I am ok with that.

I do miss walking in woods.

The Soloist & My Room

I finished reading “The Soloist” today at lunch. It was odd reading a book about the powers of music without actually listening to music. I wish I would have seen the movie first and then read the book to have the soundtrack playing in mind while reading.

The copy of the book I was reading was on loan from my local library. This copy had hand written notes throughout the book. It was interesting to read somebody else’s thoughts about the story. The writer of the notes seemed to have a person living in their life that is also suffering from schizophrenia.

Pages of the book read “homeless, living without a view of a horizon, no greens, no blues just city”. The note writer adds in the margins of that page “schizophrenia leads to introspection – thoughts in my mind. I stand next to a life that is better than mine.” I have no idea what to make of the handwritten notes. The word introspection and life leads me to guess that there is redemption of hope found in the pages of this book.

I have this extra room in my house which has become “my room” (all other rooms are “E’s, but I do get a pillow and I am re-invited every night to share the bed). It’s a room where I workout and store my photo gear. Last night I set up a practice area: music stand, chair and guitar. I keep guitars tossed throughout the house. For the most part anywhere I typically sit there is a guitar close by. Keeping a true practice workout regime for guitar has been calling me for a long time.

The music of Bach is otherworldly to me. Many times when I play Bach I cannot tell you what I am playing (theory, chord structure). At times it feels like fingers on strings and a piece of wood in my hands making sounds that I have no control over or understating of. I have been playing guitar for three decades, in that time I have recorded a couple of cd’s and have played countless shows. Nothing can compete with the moments of fluidly playing Bach.

I live with a quiet inner fear if that I do not keep growing as a musician I will not grow as a photographer. Music helps me to see the world.

“May the concert never stop” - Nathaniel Ayers

40 in 30

Reflective, that is how I feel about turning 40 years old 30 days from today.

Looking back what progress have I made? I can honestly say that I am beginning to be “ok” with who I am. It seems that I have gotten a lot more things right then wrong in my life at 40. I have a wife and daughter that are better than I deserve. I share a business with my wife and daily I work with a purpose. I live in a home that is warm and filled with light and love (with a whole bunch of great photos, guitars, aromas from the kitchen and pitter patter of little feet.)

The greatest lesson that I have learned “so-far” is that having parents in your life as an adult is important. The first twenty years of a child’s life is dedicated to keeping your child alive and well. My parents did that, thanks mom & dad for that. Adults need parents. That is the lesson learned. I still need to be parented too. Advice, structure, wisdom, time, conversation, understanding and all the whatnot’s of a life is needed. Now that I am the father of a 3yr old I understand the importance of being a son at 40 yrs old.

At 40 I believe my work and artistic life have progressed. I am happy about that. I have honed my crafts and cultivated my skills, read books, kept journals, said my prayers and eaten my vegetables. I have played music, taken photos, gotten in shape, written stories, essays and rants even occasionally been published. I have walked in the woods, traveled abroad; I have climbed rocks, drunk wine, ate countless numbers of pizza slices and have kept my dog by my side for the past 16 years.

Perennial work in progress is the who, what and why of my zeal for life. To the next idea, know how much I looking forward to discovering you. The fear of stopping to develop in mind, body and spirit is my muse.

The second 40 years holds the divine mystery in front of me. Raising a daughter to be kind and intelligent, sustaining a business that can be passed down to the next generation, being a good husband, father, son and citizen to the life that has been given to me.

Simple, purposeful and with rhythm - those are the words to describe how I will live out the second set of 40 years to come.

In my eighties I hope I am in the last 20 plus yrs of my life, if I am so blessed. Sharing this journey with my wife I will learn how to oil paint, tinker in my woodshop, enjoy grandchildren and do whatever my wife wants to do, probably travel…nonetheless, if I pick up my dirty socks and place the dirty dishes in the dishwasher I think she will keep me around.

To all the angels, geniuses and genies in a bottle that have guided my way on this journey…thank you, deep bows of gratitude to you.

The World Must Be Ok

(48 hr of perspective)

3pm Election Day November 4, 2008 – I voted for the first time. No long lines, no lines at all, no campaign supporters pushing pamphlets at me and no protesting crowds. Only two college kids guiding me through the election process. Not sure if I feel a sense of pride or disbelief that my vote will effect change positively.

7pm sitting in a bar waiting on election results. I ordered a draft beer. The bartender places the mug in front of me with an orange wedge on the brim of the glass and charges me $4.80. The patrons are talking about the NFL, pizza, and cheap gas prices and I just ordered a five-dollar beer. The world must be ok.

Twenty-one months of following this election, I just acted on my civic duty and I sit alone in a bar drinking overpriced draft beer. Watching the lives of other people I open my journal to write. Loud crash of breaking dishes from the back of the bar kitchen bring the crowd to a hush. Smiles, giggles and a sense of – glad I didn’t do that to bring life back into the clientele. The TV channel is turned from election coverage to college football reruns – the world must be ok.

7:30 pm I write a letter in my journal to my daughter. I title it “Life”, it’s a love letter of sorts with lessons that I hope to teach her. A little boy runs into the table at which I sit. He and his family are sitting across the room from me eating pizza. He asks me “watch you doing?” “Killing time”, I told him. He responded, “ok” then he ran back to his family and his pizza. Left the bar to pick up my wife. She was at a coffee house attending a meeting. I walk to the coffeehouse and order peppermint tea.

8pm voting polls close on the East coast and the first election results are in.

11:01 pm Barack Hussein Obama is our new president elect. “We the People”, the ancestors of the founding fathers of the constitution chose hope and change for our country. It feels good. The world must be ok.

11:30 pm I check on our sleeping daughter; so cute. She rocks herself gently from shoulder to shoulder when she is sleeping and wiggles her bum sometimes. I smile and try not to giggle aloud. I stand over her crib and I think about how she will never have to understand that the world she fell asleep in is not the world she will awake to. The world has lost enough, for this brief moment the veil has been lifted.

6am Wednesday the 5th woke to a new world. The TV reports that the world likes us again, even the French. The planet celebrates the U.S. president elect. Russia moves their military forces towards Poland. Russian President Dmitry Medvedev delivered an aggressive speech against the US.

12 noon, lunchtime, decide to listen to conservative Rush Limbaugh right wing radio (the day after the election) for the first time. I thought it would be fun. I read The New York Times, The Economist, I listen to independent local radio and I am a fan of Al Gore. Basically I am the poster boy for all things tagged liberal fascist. Personally I always thought of myself as a conservative in lifestyle and liberal in my judgment towards others. I pay my taxes and if you want to marry a man, woman, dog or tree I do not care. Truth be told, I care if it is my dog but that’s it. After taking in some of their views you can call me a tree hugging liberal fascist. Upon my death I will stand in front of my God and let her/him/it judge me. Rush Limbaugh is loud and angry – we’re a socialist country now, shouts through my speakers. It amazes me how devoted his audience is when his job title is “On Air Personality”. Journalism is dead and we can’t even blame Rupert Murdock.

3pm listened to the Sean Hannity conservative right wing radio show. Hannity is hoping for the resurrection of Ronald Regan. Based on how the world has treated the teachings of the last successful resurrection I hope Regan stays dead; let him go the way of Buddha, his teachings have not been as badly distorted. This is what I learned from a couple of hours of conservative “entertainment” radio – if you want to be a Christian Cowboy listen in. The world must be ok.

8pm attended a lecture at Heinz Hall in downtown Pittsburgh with my father. Not sure why I always refer to Pittsburgh as downtown. The lecture is given by Paul Rusesabagina, the humanitarian of Hotel Rwanda. 6am I awoke to hope, 8pm I am listening to a talk about the genocide of Rwanda, Africa. I sit and take note of the living history in the flesh standing in front of me talking about the power of words and peaceful dialogue (to understand Hotel Rwanda read this…).

Rusesabagina talks about disturbing observers; people who only scrutinize the events but cause no change. Media, United Nations, Foreign Governments; none of them are peacekeepers or peacemakers. The phrase “never again” becomes again and again and again throughout history. In our current time we had the Holocaust of the Jewish people in Germany, the genocide of Rwanda and Darfur in Africa.

10:30 pm Walk out of the lecture hall never more aware of the birthright I have due to the soil I was born upon. Citizen responsibility towards a global perspective on civility, equality and human rights needs to be held by all.

11:30 pm flipping through late night news I hear the blurb “there is no more right wing politics, there is no more left wing politics, there is only forward or backward politics.” I like that.

1pm Thursday 6th I start writing this

3pm I complete writing: the world must be ok.

On Photography –

Perceptions, light, click of the shutter and then you’re done, that’s how you create a photograph.

Surrender to love without possessing. That is the first key to understanding what perception is. A photographer is not in control no matter what the subject or lack of subject is. A photographer is only a seer of light. The judgment of what you do with the click of the shutter is perception.

Second key is light: light is alive and stirring, light has sounds, scent, colors, patterns, textures, emotion and flow. To see the light you need to practice. Concede that you don’t know everything there is to know about light. Concede that you do not have to know everything about light. Know that you will have to be present and accountable for what you do with the light. Practice being a seer of the light. Be a poet of the light and enjoy this part.

Third key: be humble, uphold and a mind-set of gratitude. When people tell me that they are a photographer/artist my answer is always the same; already? My follow-up question is always “how do you know?”

Fourth Key: write your ideal moment. This is mine:

I raise the camera to my eye looking through the viewfinder. I go into a place of silence, a place of inner stillness. My environment could be filled with noise and rumblings of a passerby or I could be in the forest sitting next to a raging stream. At that instant of composition I go into stillness, simple mindfulness. My consciousness changes into the environment that surrounds me, moving into a moment of unearthing discovery. Looking to see the unseen to find the spark where God lives and art grows. Following that I move into the “yes of the blessing”, when I capture that sacred frame that lived only for that finite second of stillness. To conclude, I move into the point of celebrating the gift, that presence of grace that I alone was able to see, experience, document and share with the world.

Conclusion: the light is never the same twice, as it should be.

The Culture of my Youth

As a young boy I grew up in a small town that had its own spirit and culture. The town was a blend of old-world traditions mixed with the current happenings of present society. This memory, barely twenty years old for me, now feels more like an indigenous culture in a world that has gone away.

My friends were either one hundred percent Italian or one hundred percent Irish. I was a 50/50 split, mutt blend of sorts. I would grow up to like beer with my spaghetti. I yearned for my last name to end with a vowel or to have the double constant of “cC” at the start of my last name. For me, my last name was stuck with five non-repeating letters with the vowels placed properly in the middle.

The ethnicity of our parents meant the customs of the old-world, “the mother land” as I would jokingly refer to it. Church, spaghetti dinners, team sports and yard work were the fundamentals of life. We were all Catholic with a large “C”. We listened to Springsteen, watched the Steelers and drank iced tea out of the cardboard box container, three for 97 cents from the corner store. This is when having a local economy and local store were a convenience of life. The 20 minute drive out of town to the Mall or the store was a waste of a good afternoon that could be better spent playing ball down at the field. The field was what we called the park that we would meet at everyday, I’m sure this field had a proper name but I never new it.

The seasons were marked by the change in the sports we played rather than the weather or the color of the leaves on the trees. Winter – football, spring – baseball, summer – basketball, autumn - more basketball and wiffle ball that was played on the basketball court after they took down the nets for the season. I never got good at basketball even though I have played more pick up games than most NBA players would dream of. I always thought if I ever wrote a book about my life I would title it, “Because I couldn’t make a jump shot”. Nonetheless poor basketball skills fueled my motivation for practicing guitar.

Sundays were blocked off for family dinners, watching football and sitting on the sofa. This was my town’s version of keeping the Sabbath. Commandments four and five were taken very seriously, sort of. Being of the large “C” Catholics that we were, keeping the remaining eight commandments were easy, no stealing, no murdering, no coveting all seems pretty simple not to break. Nobody was quite sure what “bearing false witness against your neighbor” was, so that one didn’t count if we broke it. Number three, not taking the Lord’s name in vain, was only a problem for the parents.

Grandparents lived within walking distance. Mine lived next door; great for getting an extra dish of late night ice cream, bad for sneaking girls into your house when your parents went away.

We were the sons of blue-collar fathers. We fixed our own cars, borrowed tools from our neighbors and mended fences. Truth be told, I never actually mended a fence but I am sure I painted one or two in my time. “Work with your back or work with your mind”, “bring the work to you instead of you going to the work”. That is what my Father ritually recited to me when working. Metaphors that turned out to be great advice for working in photography, blending your hands and mind worked out to be the perfect fit for me.

It is said that culture is watching the world construct itself before it goes, a gift from our imagination. My culture planted seeds.

Active Citizen

How can I affect change in the world without being a pain in the ass to those around me?

- Give without expectations.
- Work with a purpose.
- Be the change you want to see in the world and in turn that will create the change in the world that you want to see.
- Living your faiths well is far more important than evangelizing your faith in others.

Those are all mantras that I have tried to live my life by. I have felt that they would affect the most amount of positive change in the world with the least amount of negativity projecting onto others. I no longer consider that those ideologies work.

New ideologies needed.

I have been stuck in a quagmire lately, surrounded by people who just do not care about themselves, their health, their environment or the person standing next to them (society). For the most part all of these people are nice people. They pay their taxes, support their churches, support their favorite sport teams, all the while quietly killing themselves with the lifestyle they choose to lead. They are completely oblivious to the damage that they are infecting on themselves, society and the environment in which they live in. Forgive me for the harshness of what I am going to say next: - nevertheless they all seem to be numb, without hope or emotion to care about anybody but themselves.

This condition of quiet surrender to selfishness is killing the planet.

The state of healthcare is out of control simply because 80% of people who have healthcare insurance do not care about improving their health. This is the greatest abuse of the system, causing the largest amount of damage to the overall effectiveness of the medical industry and rising insurance costs. The environment is on the decline simply because people choose not to change their spending habits. We, as Americans, place 40% of toxins and pollution into the atmosphere and water. We also support slavery with our consumerism-mentality. The amount of oil, coal and natural recourses we waste is an uncountable number.

Last week I wrote a post titled: “Citizens’ Responsibility Towards the Future of Healthcare” I e-mailed a couple of my favorite bloggers asking for feedback. The following paragraph is a strong counterpoint to my argument that is well worth reading. Katherine (a.k.a.) Dating God responded:

“What ails people these days is not simply their fault. Refined-carbs pumped into the food supply, tobacco portrayed for years as glamorous and calming for the nerves, fast food made so quick and easy and cheap that only the wealthy can afford to not eat there. I’ll stop now. but seriously, it isn’t as simple as saying: these folks just refuse to take care of themselves. if you surround a person with heroin, with people who do heroin, with ads saying Heroin Is Good For You!, decorate it in pretty, sultry packaging, have doctors recommend it, offer it cheaply and easily, if you do all this, is it still simply an individual’s fault if they use? isn't it then a community problem?”

Again - these people whom I am complaining about are nice people and some of them are my friends and family. (I am in no way innocent of these sins myself). These are the people that give to charity when asked. These are the people that help out the neighborhood in times of need.

They still smoke, eat foods that they know will create disease in them, and cannot even think about making a positive environmental choice. We have forsaken logic and reason for un-attainable dreams of wealth and power (entitlement factor). We as a society are far too disconnected to feel-believe-understand what is happening on the very soil we stand upon. This brings me back to my first sentence.

How can I affect change in the world without being a pain in the ass to those around me?

I am tired of the all the polite head-nods I get when explaining the state of our nation to others. I want change. The reason I care is because (with anger in my heart) I no longer want to pay for the sins of others. I want my daughter to inherit a better world than the one she was born into. I want her to know I tried. Some day she’ll be all grown up and she’ll rightfully want to know what I did to leave her a better earth than the one I brought her into.

I have an internal call to become an activist of sorts. However I am not sure where to direct my efforts. Health, environment and education all seem to be where my passions lie.

An active citizen is what I want to trigger in people. If citizens can change their actions, then laws, corporations and governments will change to fit the people’s needs accordingly. It’s not too late to cultivate the emotions of caring.

Learning to be comfortable with contradictions is a path to enlightenment.

In search of active citizens to fight the quiet surrender to numbness in society wanted.

On Books

22 degrees going up to 55 degrees with bright and sunny skies in Pittsburgh today, very odd time of the year. It’s the twin-season time of year with all the glory of spring plus all the bitter cold of winter. Experiencing weather in Pittsburgh is only trumped by the unfamiliarity of the sun. A bright sunny morning in Pittsburgh equals traffic, sun-blind driving accidents and daydreaming drivers in awe of seeing the sun. My driving-daydream was about my love of books (& sometimes my fear of books, they know more than me – well most of them).

My love of books started in my first semester of my junior year in college. Two things happened to me in that semester that would cultivate my love and, sometimes, addiction to books. First, I got glasses, and second I met Dr. Mistro, my philosophy professor in college.

Until that point in my life reading hurt my eyes but nobody believed me. I would take my yearly eye exam in school and get 20/20 vision on the testing but nonetheless every time I would start to read my eyes would soon hurt and my mind would wonder. (Eye fatigue) Finally some eye doctor believed me or wanted to make a sell, and I got my first pair of reading glasses. The written word came to life (pain free) and changed my life.

Second thing that happened was having Dr. Mistro as my philosophy professor. He was one of “those” teachers that you hear about who changed a life. His teachings and subjects opened up a new world to me, a world with a passion for learning that had previously been missing in my life.

For the greater part of my life I was lacking zeal for most everything except playing guitar. In high school I always felt that I was labeled a dreaming, lazy, unmotivated type of person; for the most part the labels fit. I can remember my teachers referring to me as “that guitar playing kid”. At least I was lucky enough to have one passion in my life. True to labeling I was lazy, bored, unmotivated and uninterested in academics until Dr. Mistro’s Philosophy class.

Philosophers were daydreamers that history took seriously. That worked for me. From Aristotle to Nietzsche, they all made sense to me. I understood their thoughts and words. Algebra was nothing more than Egyptian hieroglyphics, but the existentialism and postmodernism of “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” was like that first breath of air that saves you from drowning.

The love of books spearheaded itself when Dr. Mistro said to me “I do not trust people who do not read”. Not much for curbside prophecy, but it spoke to me. Continued growth in life is what it preordained in me. Do not trust people who no longer continue to grow. That phrase gave birth to an enthusiasm for reading that has never stopped budding inside of me. Additionally it fit perfectly with my approach to guitar playing. Six strings, a piece of wood and endless mystery. A love for wisdom with continued growth in music, books, art and life would never leave me.

Dr. Mistro gave me passion, more importantly he gave me conviction that my interests were worth pursuing. Dr. Mistro gave me conversation; he was interested in my thoughts and my term papers. We would discuss my interest in existentialism and postmodernism. He would actually come see my band play on the college campus, and we would discuss song lyrics that I had written influenced by his teaching. He fostered an academic relationship that made me feel like a peer.

Lastly he introduced me to a photography professor; he thought I might take a curiosity in the subject.

Ambient Art -

I have become fascinated with the term “Ambient Art”. Ambient art is defined as: “representations of complex environmental and user information that reflect their surroundings as well as simply being displayed in them”. I define ambient art as not as uncomplicated as pop art or as complex as transcendental intellectual significances that classical art will have you realize. Other than art that makes you feel comfortable and inspired in your environment without the subject of the work of art being the center of attention. Art that places purpose in a purposeless setting, the experience of experiencing the setting in itself.

I am setting out on a new project to try to craft an ambient multimedia photography art project. The first couple of questions that come to mind are: Can ambient photography be produced and be meaningful? What would be the purpose of the photograph? Why, and for who?

Let me start out by answering what I know: I want to make photographs that have longevity, transparency and evolve for the environment that they’re placed in. Photographs that place a feeling of no beginning or end, experience instead of a journey, subject matter that is encompassing not narrative to the viewer and the room.

The impetus and meaningfulness of this project is directed from the idea that photographs can be an antidote to the noise of a TV. In the age of large screen TVs, the TVs have become the center point of most rooms and are more of a sonic/visual narrative of our background to life as oppose to achieving a sonic/visual landscape within our environment. TV draws in our attention numerous times when we are not even paying attention to the programming. The antidote would be to create a multimedia DVD photo slide show with original atmospheric music that would play on a loop. Brian Eno’s current work of 77 Million Paintings would be a large scale example of what I am trying to create for the living space.

Ambient art can generate a “long now” sensation that the here and now is not only what is being directed at you but in a grander part of what is being intended for life around you. An example of a “long now” could be: noticing the stillness in nature and awareness of life in a single instant. In the end the accomplishment of ambient art will be to create and preserve a long now moment.

Next, moving onto the ‘why”: For the reason that I enjoy my environment. When I sit down to read a book, drink a glass of wine or to have a conversation with my wife I like to enjoy the atmosphere that I have surrounded myself with. The color, texture, sounds and aroma of my environment are important to me. I am not trying to create a trance hypnotic décor but enhance the ambient of my environment with art.

This project will not see its fruition until January ‘08 when I will start posting short multimedia photo slide shows. I have a back catalog of music and photography that I will edit together along with creating some new compositions and photo projects. I hope you stay along with me on this journey of ambient art.

On Reading - Essay

Soft chair, pillows placed accurately, table lamp turned on, wine glass filled with a 2002 Napa Valley cabernet, blanket across my lap, and I open the book. Holding a book brings me to a state of calm, knowing that my intellect will be forever altered by the process that I am about to begin.

Reading is a transcendental, hypnotic occurrence for me. Getting lost in the pages of one of my favorite writers is a dream-like gift. The ability to sit still and simultaneously be transported to a new world all at the same point in time is one of my utmost delights. Reading has prepared me for more than just educating or entertaining myself. It has given me confidence in that there is more to myself than I can convey.

I explore my worldspace when I read. The written word has no behavior of its own but it influences my etiquette. The memory of the written word leaves only fragments in my mind; however it creates my outlook on culture and nature. The core of my spiritual faith has been constructed from the written word. But still, they are only words. Words hang out in the eternal bliss to be picked at and raised whenever needed. Reminiscing sentiments with the capability to heal or attack; choose carefully what you read. Words can not die.

Previous to the written scribes there were words of influence, detestation, love and death; mysteries of the beginning and the foretelling of the end. Stories that have been passed down for generations to create this time we live in today. “In the beginning there was the word and the word was good”. (Gen) “I am what I am becoming” (Exodus). Words are what we are becoming; words are the birth of our future selves.

I was not much of a reader in my youth until I had a philosophy professor who spoke the sentence “I do not trust people who do not read”. I would not call this a blanket- statement or even a correct view, nevertheless at that time it meant a lot to me and it was the spark-of-passion for reading for me.

The art of reading takes on a dual journey. First is the adventure of the story, and second is the story that continues with me throughout my odyssey. Truly a novel idea.

Nature Essay

Seven a.m. Sunday morning and I’m getting prepared to go out for my second hike in two days: A rare treat for me. I am an advent lover of the outdoors and all things Mother Nature but as of late, time has not permitted me the gift of enjoying the wilderness. Right boot on, left boot on, lace pulled tight, I pull over a thin but warm micro-fiber-technology fleece shirt. Not sure when clothing achieves the singularity point where micro-technology blends with the common fiber to create this super thin, but incredibly warm piece of clothing, but I am thankful for it.

Kiani, my dog, races franticly around me with the anticipation of being out in the woods. Kiani is an original breed, I prefer to use the term pure-bread since she is the purest thing I know, but officially she is a mutt. When somebody asks me what type of dog I have my answer is forever “Happy”, I have a happy dog, 100% pure love wrapped in fur. Kiani represents everything good that I ever studied on theology, Zen, Christianity, spirit…she has been my greatest teacher. Ok, I’m gonna say it; Kiani has a Buddha-Nature. Yes, my dog is more enlightened than you. That may be confusing to some of you especially if you have ever met her. Characteristically Kiani runs around all hyper and crazed, immediately wanting you to pet her and rub her belly. But what do you think you would do with your Buddha-Nature? What’s better than a belly rub?

Car on, dog in the back seat, no coffee, no camera: Today I see, not document. I often wonder if photographers practice the art of seeing. Seems like a silly question “Do photographers practice seeing?” Seeing is the job, but the question is, do you/we see? Do we look to the left, to the right, to the sounds, to the smells, to the touch, of what is present?

I drive past a farmer’s empty field, icy fog blankets the ground and thick sunbeams break through the clouds as if they were an upside down crown. The sunbeams, mixed with the icy fog, create a silhouette that blackens the trees in the foreground. Damn, wish I had my camera now. That would be the last time I saw the sun that day, it sunk back behind the clouds for the rest of that day.

Walking into the woods I experience the silence, no vibration, no movement, the air is still. I notice my own breath and heart beat, then a thunderous flock of ducks whisk by as if out of nowhere. Trees rustle as the last of winter’s dead leaves fall from the treetops, I step in mud. Trail is muddy and mushed-up from all the mountain bikers enjoying the path. Kiani is in all her glory racing around the muddy trail, I imagine it as a giant slip and slide for a dog. I stand unaccompanied, engulfed with the eternally present understanding that I am no greater than this tree I am standing next to and that I am as great as this tree standing next to me. I walk with appreciation and speculate if the wilderness has gratitude of me.

I observe a great deal of moss living on fallen tree trunks, life from death I think to myself. Lacking the understanding of nature-science I wonder how moss can live on a dead object. The colors of the two blending make for a dramatic juxtaposition of colors and textures. Brown, tans, yellow of the tree bark mixed with the wet blended greens of the moss with hints of white glows and reflects off of each other. Next I hike up the trail to the ridge top, not quite a summit but still a good trek. This is a good place to rest.

Sitting on a non-moss covered log I see the white tail of a deer, then another tail and another tail. Deer heads start popping out of the low brush; I am resting in the herd’s nest. I count 15 deer and then some distant noise startles them and they start dashing off in the same direction. This is what I call the “Yes of the Blessing Moment” I was present and in the herd of a deer pack. They had no fear of me, or I of them, most expectedly since this preservation of wilderness has always been a sanctuary for no hunting. What a wonderful experience I had to be part of the herd if only for a moment; no judgments or fear, merely being one in the instant.