Some January colour

No boy left behind, January 2013

No tracks, January 2013

Snow ninja, January 2013

Some January colour, January 2013

Summer scenes

A beautiful end, June 2012

We spell it SOME MORE, June 2012

Unkept and proud, June 2012

Don't look inside, June 2012

The clouds on my knees, June 2012

No demons in sight

My head has been down these past few weeks. Working mostly, but also meditating, cuddling under blankets, eating moderately (a challenge), and yoga. I'm into the first of two weeks off and as usual when I'm on vacation, I'm anxious. It seems that work is my anchor in life (no time to face my demons) and whenever I have a chance to stop, I start my existential squirming. I'm faced with a small block of time and my mind freaks out because it doesn't know what to do. Install the new dishwasher, re-install it because it has to be perfect, put new tires on my motorcycle, shovel snow, finish reading this book so I can start that one, catch up on my movie wish list, sleep, do the taxes, meditate, exercise, take my vitamins, visit friends, finish and submit that story, arrgh! Time off is stressful! Why? Why can't I just relax and enjoy the time? Not sure about that one, but I think I'm getting closer. It has something to do with wanting to make the right choice and do the right things with the time I have. When I'm working, I don't have to make those choices. I just show up, do my best, and forget.

How's it going? It's been a while since I've said hi to my virtual friends. Here are some photos from this past Monday. We took the boys to the big city to spend their Christmas gift cards, hiked in Edmonton's gorgeous river valley, enjoyed some yummy Vietnamese food, and grabbed a bubble tea for the drive home. It was fun to be moving, laughing, seeing, consuming. No demons in sight.

Tires? Yes. Roads? Not even close, February 2012

Big dreams, February 2012

North Saskatchewan River: it flows underneath, February 2012

Leaking pipes = winter fun, February 2012

Rosehip tea, February 2012

University of Alberta, February 2012

Patient, February 2012

Take my hand, February 2012

Listen to them rustle in the wind, February 2012

Lost, unwanted, February 2012

Red wedge, February 2012

May peace prevail on earth, February 2012

Fleeing peace, February 2012

Mask of light, February 2012

The glowing mansion on the hill, February 2012

I don't need a knife, February 2012

Bubble tea holds us together, February 2012

Many (will) (have) walk(ed) our path

Many will walk the path, August 2008

"Everything changes once we identify with being the witness to the story, instead of the actor in it." ~ Ram Dass

I like this very much. My twist on the theme: "Everything changes once we identify with being a watcher of instead of being the star in our own play." It could be simpler: "Everything changes once we see ourselves in the audience as well as on the stage." I like the plurality of "as well as."

I want to let go of that idea of being alone in a theatre of empty seats or being alone under the spotlight. Because we're not. There's a feeling I've been trying to capture in my art for years that everywhere we go, everything we do, we are with others. Others have lived our lives, walked in our footsteps, felt our pain, our loneliness, and reveled in our joys. Our experiences in this life are not unique. The isolation we feel is self-induced and all these experiences past, present, and future overlap in a timeless place of acceptance.

Right now I feel like there are two of me. The solid me and the ghost me. The ghost me is trying to pull itself away but the gravity of my "self" is too strong to let it go. I'm not sure if I'm going in the right direction and I'm pretty sure the harder I try, the stronger the gravity will be. Best to let it be and see what happens. I have a story to witness.

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Action and repose

"Action and repose, ... to properly balance these two is to understand life."
- Jim Carroll, The Petting Zoo
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Photos from the past couple weeks.


One point, sharp, October 2011


She comes when the nights are longest, November 2011


This is what compassion looks like, from @DalaiLama (Twitter)


Food for the meek, November 2011


November, still rolling, 2011


Grandpa's hands, October 2011

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For them as can see, fin

A hole to breath through, November 2010


Untitled (modernist cop-out), November 2010

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For them as can see, two

Alpine vista, November 2010


One cell life form, November 2010


Quack quack, November 2010


Turquoise alchemy, November 2010


Oh!, November 2010

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For them as can see, one

"For them as can see, there's things to be seen."
Frank Gee Patchin, The Pony Rider Boys in the Rockies,
1909, The Saalfield Publishing Company



Frozen tear drops, November 2010


Lac Santé seascapes, November 2010


My modernist roots, November 2010


Winter's edge, November 2010


Still flow, November 2010


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What if we all said no?

What if we all said no?, November 2010

Revelry didn't work. He pushed the button and the tape would play for handful of notes and then nothing. He pushed play stop several times hoping that the tape would jog loose and play like it did last night, but all it did was spit out a few notes of the mourning bugle song. There was one scoff in the audience of a couple hundred people. Most over 60. That person was shamed into mute by the the rest. No one coughed. No chairs slid. I could hear the man with the tape sweating as he did all that he could do. Play stop play stop. Finally he gave up and encouraged us to pause for two minutes of silence. There was no more hope.

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Quills in my brain

Some things can't be known, October 2010

Did the porcupine survive? Was she crushed by the wheels of this bus or did she get away, a few quills short of a full load? My mind feels full of quills today. I hit something this weekend, my body is telling me: head ache, short temper, disturbing dreams, but I can't get out of the careening bus of my thinking mind to discover what it was. And maybe unhook some of those quills. So my wheels will keep rolling and hurting because that's what wheels are meant to do.

Is this true? Does the mind always have to churn and spit like a viciously reacting potion burbling on a stove of molten lava? It feels true right now, but it isn't a permanent condition. I just have to find the turn-around. Change my thinking.

But to change my thinking I have to know what it is I am thinking about. Today I have no clue.

One thing at-a-time. I think I'll fry up some bacon and eggs.

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Help along the way this fine Sunday morning:

Pohanginapete

Emma

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The second arrow is mine

The second arrow (in my foot), June & October 2010



Snow geese from afar (click to enlarge photo), October 2010



Natural animation, October 2010



The sky provides relief, October 2010

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