Go Slowly.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter..... and Spring.

2012-01-23T06:21:00.000-08:00

This two-year journey has come full circle.

I found the bridge that eluded me then,

taking me back to Life.

I'm happy.

light & mirrors

2012-01-18T02:26:00.000-08:00

when things start falling, let them!

sometimes things crumble to create a space.

this sacred space is the womb of creation,

of beauty and evolution.

let go of what's on its way out:

it's already dead.

the life force has left it.

without that, you would never see

that everything your heart's been calling for

was seeking a pathway to enter all along.

first,

create a space.

then,

open your heart.

it will flood right in; it can't help it...

every pure question co-arises with its answer.

every pure yearning co-arises with its manifestation.

two people stand separately, refracting light off of mirrors

that they hold in their hands -

the intention has been set.

the light that they thought disappeared into space

has found its way to the other.

the Six Kathmandus

2011-11-26T02:54:00.000-08:00

The return to Kathmandu ~ one city, six dimensions of reality.

There is the Kathmandu of colors to which the saffron robes of a passing monk and the dazzling ruby saris of smiling women belong; the black coal smudge lining the corner of a child's twinkling eye; the rise of silver incense smoke against an indigo sky; the strings of marigolds that adorn the doors and passage ways of narrow alleys.

There is the Kathmandu of sound to which the squeaky horns of tuk tuks and the methodic sweep of a broom belong, accented by sounds of echoing laughter from open apartment windows and the growling hums of motorcycle engines.

Then of course, there is the Kathmandu of smells, where roasted yak meat and boiling daal, burning firewood and clouds of dust all waft together through the contours of my nostrils straight to the center of my consciousness.

There is the Kathmandu of touch that reaches out to the bottoms of my bare legs through the cool, marble stairs on which they rest or through the early morning zephyr that dances along my face and runs the outlines of my outstretched fingers; the sudden jolt of alertness as bodies collide down crowded, chaotic streets; the smooth countenance of a turquoise Buddha statue staring into my eyes with loving kindness.

There is naturally the Kathmandu of taste which embraces the warm, creamy sweetness of masala chai and each invividual spice of which a samosa is comprised; the comforting familiarity of basmati rice melting in my mouth in a sea of daal.

Then there is the intuitive Kathmandu of prana, or life force, which glues each of the aforementioned treasures together in every ephemeral, passing moment ~ like riding a giant life wave at its crest, as far as it will go -- without asking where it goes -- and trusting that a wave of beauty, love and truth itself will only reflect the outer world as such if you surrender yourself to it fully.

These are the six dimensions of Kathmandu, woven together like petals of a lotus flower blooming in an open palm; six modes of reality in which to dissolve your thoughts and touch the face of God.

Imagine if...

2011-10-06T14:54:00.002-07:00

...we all just let go to see what would happen,

without fear of falling,

although it happens sometimes...

and just trusted in the catch.

In My Mind

2011-10-05T22:18:00.000-07:00

I met a Ghanaian artist in midtown Manhattan who was selling his paintings in a local park. I was immediately drawn to this painting so I asked him to explain what had inspired him to create it.

He told me that, as a child in Ghana, there was this tree from his childhood that had always brought him an incredible amount of joy. He had spent time there playing and dreaming, so he loved it very much.

When he emigrated to the United States, he was not able to take his tree with him. That made him quite sad, not only because he missed the tree but everything that the tree represented as well -- the raw, natural environment, the sense of belonging, of community, of connection to the land, the simple joy of existence unencumbered by the complexities of 'modern life.'

So, he decided to allow the tree to grow in his mind. He tells me it's thriving in there and that brings him much comfort. It guides him through the chaos of this modern city like a compass that roots him deeply into the Earth.

Transitions

2011-09-17T22:54:00.000-07:00

"If I don't go on that boat, I know exactly what I'm coming home to. If I do, my future is unwritten."

Do we choose the security of x, or the unlimited potential of y? What causes us to say enough? What motivates us to stand up for a lifestyle that we can love?

These questions arise as Wonderland's horizon bursts forth with an awesome, vibrant energy and we walk the line between what we know we want and what we think we can manage.

As we travel through dilapidated remains of what once was -- a crumbling enterprise built on extraction -- the aspen trees (nature's gold) grow through the rotting floorboards, reclaiming their right to thrive in harmony with all other life.

These human endeavors were necessarily finite because they did not contribute to the wealth and vitality of the greater environment. The changing face of nature is eternal - ineffably sublime and mysterious.

We arrive in the beautiful Indian Peaks wilderness with the simple intention of being present, hiking to banks of a small river and hopping stones to take shelter between two large rocks at the cradle of the surrounding peaks. As light mist turns to freezing rain and snow dusts the craggy ridges, we begin to feel autumn's arrival.

With autumn comes inevitable change. Although this change can be understood as a death of what used to be, the vibrant colors in the trees, foliage and sky assure us that this is good and necessary.

Although the future is uncertain and shaky, we continue to make steps towards the world that we want.

We must first make a leap in order for a solution to appear.

"Don't think about the things you fear...

...just be glad to be here."

Analogue Dreams

2011-08-20T07:52:00.000-07:00

Taken with a Holga 140N in the Hongdae district of Seoul.
This is the first, experimental set ~ a new way to see the world through the interaction of glass, plastic and light.

Modern Revolution

2011-08-14T19:45:00.000-07:00

Secret Santa

2011-08-05T01:00:00.000-07:00

Seeking refuge from a culture fixated on all of the trappings of material success, S-- and I attempted to restore our inner vitality by hiding indoors in a room furnished with all of the comforts necessary to completely unwind and forget about the world outside. Downtempo beats wafted through the cool air as we buried our heads under the covers and got down feathers stuck in our hair. Creamy Swiss chocolate bars were guiltily confiscated by grabby hands from the minibar fridge. We did absolutely nothing but chillax. We barely noticed how quickly the hour hand had made a complete rotation before nearing check-out time the next morning.

When S-- went downstairs to negotate an extension to our stay, he was informed that the hotel was nearly booked, save a few rooms on the bottom level of the hotel's rear and one room on the corner of the fifth floor. Intrigued by the latter option, a staff member accompanied him to see the room for himself. It seemed okay enough, almost identical to the one we were in except that the spring mattress was replaced by a traditional Korean ondol setup. There was one peculiarity: a giant red object covered by a thick tarp that blocked about a third of the view outside. We had also seen it from our first room, though it was difficult to make out exactly what it was -- it almost appeared to be a giant red buoy in a sea of glass and steel.

We spent the entire evening contentedly in the room or out exploring Hongdae without thinking twice about the large object outside our window. However, while packing last minute the next morning, S-- gazed out the window and paused for a short moment before asking suddenly:

"Is that... a Santa outside our window?"

"A what?"

Sure enough, the hotel had wrapped a giant, styrofoam Santa in a plastic tarp and stashed him away on the 5th floor deck. He had definitely seen better days -- the end of his faded hat was broken off and the tips his fingers were weather-worn. It seemed so grotesque and yet, so fitting at the same time that this filthy, forgotten giant should exist as such under a meager shroud. This wasn't the wizened icon that graces young children's dreams alongside gingerbread houses and oversized candy canes but the one which uses his awkward, lumbering form to distract people from their distractions and lure them into shoppes offering tantalizing solutions to their boredom. The image of Santa in a body bag seemed to serve two metaphors: one for the dying essence of the holiday spirit itself and one for the ultimate destination of the aforementioned "solutions" -- in an larger-than-life garbage bag that's becoming increasingly difficult to hide.

How much longer will our society convert nature's gold into rubbish and sell it as modernity and progress?

The Story of Stuff

2011-07-30T23:27:00.000-07:00

A Bug's Life

2011-07-24T16:39:00.001-07:00

Yangdeok Middle School

Yangdeokwon, South Korea

Within/Without

2011-07-18T21:26:00.000-07:00

The first principle of the exploitive mind is to divide and conquer. And surely there has never been a people more ominously and painfully divided than we are -- both against each other and within ourselves. Once the revolution of exploitation is under way, statesmanship and craftmanship are gradually replaced by salesmanship. Its stock in trade in politics is to sell despotism and avarice as freedom and democracy. In business it sells sham and frustration as luxury and satisfaction. The "constantly expanding market" first opened in the New World by the fur traders is still expanding -- no longer so much by expansions in territory or population, but by the calculated outdating, outmoding, and degradation of goods and by the hysterical self-dissatisfaction of consumers that is indigenous to an exploitative economy.

This gluttonous enterprise of ugliness, waste, and fraud thrives in the disastrous breach it has helped to make between our bodies and our souls. As a people, we have lost sight of the profound communion -- even the union -- of the inner with the outer life. Confucius said: "If a man have not order within him / He can not spread order about him..." Surrounded as we are by evidence of disorders of our souls and our world, we feel the strong truth in those words as well as the possibility of healing that is in them. We see the likelihood that our surroundings, from our clothes to our countryside, are the products of our inward life -- our spirit, our vision -- as much as they are products of nature and work. If this is true, then we cannot live as we do and be as we would like to be. There is nothing more absurd, to give an example that is only apparently trivial, than the millions who wish to live in luxury and idleness and yet be slender and good-looking. We have millions, too, whose livelihoods, amusements, and comforts are all destructive, who nevertheless wish to live in a healthy environment; they want to run their recreational engines in clean, fresh air. There is now, in fact, no "benefit" that is not associated with disaster. That is because power can be disposed morally or harmlessly only by thoroughly unified characters and communities.

...We can see growing out of our history a condition that is physically dangerous, morally repugnant, ugly. Contrary to the blandishments of the salesmen, it is not particularly comfortable or happy. It is not even affluent in any meaningful sense, because its abundance is dependent on sources that are being rapidly exhausted by its methods. To see these things is to come up against the question: Then what is desirable?

-Wendell Berry

The Unsettling of America: Culture & Agrigulture (1977)

U-Turn

2011-07-07T07:10:00.000-07:00

As we speed along the highway, slick with freshly fallen rain,
we pass an elderly man driving a tractor on the shoulder
in the opposite direction.

Slow and steady -- yet firm and resilient. Smiling, to boot.

What a brave soul to dare counter the dizzying speed and raw force of modernity with good, old-fashioned patience, awareness and gratitude.

As I am.

2011-05-20T07:03:00.000-07:00

Slack-a-licious

2011-05-14T07:05:00.000-07:00

Oh, what joys a 10-22mm lens, a piece of 1 inch tubular webbing and two sturdy trees can bring...

Buddha's Birthday

2011-05-08T07:08:00.000-07:00

Jogye Temple

Seoul, South Korea

Emerge

2011-05-06T06:14:00.000-07:00

In the confusion of life,

the most striking and lovely patterns emerge

if we simply adjust our focus.

Life at f/2.8

2011-05-02T05:33:00.000-07:00

my gift to myself, after months of saving and saving...
a canon EF 100mm f/2.8 USM macro lens.

from now on, i will be able to get much closer... *smiles*
these are the test shots, all taken at f/2.8 to celebrate:

~a desert memory~

2011-04-26T05:27:00.000-07:00

...remembering the loving sacredness and connection to the elements in the deserts of utah...

what an experience,
especially when shared with wonderful company!

songs of spring

2011-04-24T04:18:00.000-07:00

vibrant saffron rays

pierce through in all directions

waking up my smile.

wandering branches

balance the fruits of winter

on their fingertips.

can you hear them sing?

they sway from stems -- to and fro'

wind chimes of color.

Violet Night

2011-04-20T06:36:00.000-07:00

{click to enlarge}

A composition to honor the beauty of moonlit spring...

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring.

2011-04-18T07:53:00.001-07:00

Shifting Paradigms

2011-04-04T07:40:00.000-07:00

{the endless energy potential of humanity}

this is a link

Hwangseongul Cave

Samcheok, South Korea

Backbone of Society

2011-03-26T23:59:00.000-07:00

Karma Sculpture

"Times Square" - Seoul, South Korea

Singing in the Rain

2011-02-27T06:24:00.000-08:00

Just singing in the rain...

(♥ S) What a glorious feeling...

I'm happy today. : )

Yonhwasan Buddist Temple

Hongcheon, SK

The Waterwheel

2011-02-27T05:40:00.000-08:00

Stay together, friends.
Don't scatter and sleep.

Our friendship is made
of being awake.

The waterwheel accepts water
and turns and gives it away,
weeping.

That way it stays in the garden,
whereas another roundness rolls
through a dry riverbed looking
for what it thinks it wants.

Stay here, quivering with each moment
like a drop of mercury.

--Rumi

the breeze that spins the wheel inside

2011-02-26T07:22:00.000-08:00

(click to enlarge)

This blog has inadvertently turned into a photo journal. Sometimes the images I create, let alone the words at my fingertips, hardly do an experience justice which is why I've been hesitant to write. I wish there were a way to convey the calmness and light-hearted joy that permeates the air around Sutasa, a temple in Hongcheon built over 1,000 years ago. The company of wind chimes, pinwheels and afternoon chanting has such a wonderful effect on well-being. Not to mention exploring the surrounding trails lined with not-yet-blossomed cherry trees, strange ice formations and wild mushrooms.

What more needs to be said?

go

2011-02-26T06:30:00.000-08:00

Infinity

2011-02-25T08:29:00.000-08:00

Swakopmund, Namibia

The Tent

2011-02-24T22:08:00.000-08:00

Swakopmund, Namibia

Outside, the freezing desert night.
This other night inside grows warm, kindling.
Let the landscape be covered with thorny crust.
We have a soft garden in here.
The continents blasted,
cities and little towns, everything
become a scorched, blackened ball.

The news we hear is full of grief for that future,
but the real news inside here
is that there's no news at all.

--Rumi

realisation

2011-02-23T23:25:00.000-08:00

...taking action, accepting the challenge, owning my circumstances...

that's what.

Ode to Treva

2011-02-17T02:13:00.000-08:00

There's something inexplicably but undeniably magic about the evenings where all plans fall through and suddenly a portal opens up with which to travel through in any direction of my choosing, free of obligation, so to say ~ free of forethought. Dreamy downbeats bearing names like "Lemon Jelly" and "Ses Salines" negotiate the contours of my eager ears and choreograph the dance between hand, pen and paper. It's not my composition - I am more the conduit than the artist. I provide a route through which to transform an energy floating listlessly through space hungry to become something tangible. In return, it allows me to learn from whatever it has to offer my empty canvas. I never know what will come out of it, but something wonderful always does.

between

2011-02-13T18:04:00.000-08:00

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.

--Rumi

dreaming of zambia...

2011-02-13T07:28:00.000-08:00

perhaps the only place in the world

where rain falls UP.

the secrets of the hills

2011-02-13T04:06:00.000-08:00

one last glimpse, as some of my most talented and wonderful

students continue their journey in a new place...

then, the dusty footpaths of the hongcheon hills,

which embrace the town in all directions...

enjoyed with wonderful company,

with whom both words and silences speak...

the discovery of a forgotten, pastoral lifestyle

tucked away in narrow valleys...

a welcome and refreshing respite.

{vermerkt}

2011-02-12T21:54:00.000-08:00

(interessierte Unterhaltung, die ich behalten moechte)...

"Es gibt ein Ziel, aber keinen Weg; was wir Weg nennen, ist Zögern."

-Kafka

Was bedeutet dir dieses Zitat?

-H.

---

:-) Es ist ein überaus amüsantes Zitat meiner Meinung nach!

(Sorry, dass ich erst jetzt antworte aber ich wollte in der Stimmung sein und mir Zeit nehmen hierfür ;-)

1. Viele würden sicher dieses Zitat auf Kafka selbst beziehen, seine Krankheit, seinen Vaterkonflikt etc...Das Leben würde dann zu einem Zögern an dessen Ende schließlich der Tot als Ziel wartet.

- Das ist meiner Meinung nach aber Blödsinn - ;-)

2. Ich habe leider keine Ahnung von Buddhismus, aber ich weiß, dass sich Kafka mit Asien und asiatischer Philosophie insbesondere mit China auseinandergesetzt hat. Vor diesem Hintergrund erinnert mich das Zitat an Sunzis 'Kunst des Krieges' und an das Hagakure, welches die meisten aus Jim Jarmuschs 'Ghost Dog' kennen. In beiden Werken wird gelehrt schnell zu handeln (Hagakure: nach sieben Atemzügen). Es geht darum, seinem Instinkt zu vertrauen und sich nicht in die Irrungen und Wirrungen unseres Geistes zu verirren (vergleiche auch Kafkas 'Der Bau')

3. Persönlich finde ich jedoch das Zitat besonders humorvoll, da eigentlich keiner der Protagonisten Kafkas jemals ans Ziel kommt sondern ein jeder Protagonist immer nur auf dem Weg ist. Denken wir an Franz K. in 'Der Prozess', an 'Das Schloss', an die Charaktäre in seiner Kurzprosa. Immer suchen seine Charaktäre das Ziel, verlieren sich aber auf dem Weg dorthin. Kafka drückt mit diesem Zitat den unerschütterlichen Glauben seiner Charaktäre an ein Ziel aus, welches es vielleicht so gar nicht gibt, uns aber jeden Tag von neuem aufstehen, arbeiten, essen und trinken lässt...bis wir angekommen sind. (hier ist auch Camus 'Mythos des Sisyphos' sehr interessant!)

Ich hoffe, dass es dir gut geht und wünschte ich könnte mit dir persönlich darüber diskutieren.

---

Tut mir leid dass ich bisher dich nicht geantwortet habe. Ich habe 3 wunderschoene Wochen in Namibia und Sambia verbracht, ohne Handy, Internet und alles ausser 3 sehr gute Freunde und meine Kamera.

Danke fuer deine geistreiche Antwort. Ich freue mich jedes Mal deine Analyse verschiedenen Themen zu lesen denn du hast immer sehr einzigartige Perspektiven.

Ich stimme mit dir ueberein, dass es etwas mit Buddismus zu tun hat. Ich wusste nicht dass sich Kafka mit oestlicher Philosophy interessiert hat. In den letzten fuenf oder so Jahren habe ich Buddismus sehr intensiv selbst studiert. In einem Prinzip steht (inwiefern ich es verstehe), dass es kein Mittel zum Zweck gibt; doch das Mittel IST der Zweck. Also daraus geht, dass man keine Schritte in Richtung auf seinen Zweck machen kann. Diese "Schritte" sind doch nur "Zoegern" sozusagen, die man hinhalten, seine echten Zwecke (zum Beispiel - Glueck, Zufriedenheit) zu realisieren. So viele Leute warten immer auf "gute Umstaende" die wichtigsten Sachen ihres Lebens anzufangen. Oder vielleicht glauben sie, dass sie noch irgendeine Qualifikation bzw. Erlaubnis brauchen.

Fuer mich war es beim Gleitschirmfliegen auch so. Waehrend jedes Unterrichts habe ich sehr intensiv trainiert aber ich konnte meine Technik nicht betraechtlich verbessern. Ich beschuldigte meinen Lehrer, den Wind, sogar meine angeborenen Faehigkeiten ~ also, jeden Umstand. Mein Problem war nicht eine Sache von Selbstbewusstsein (obwohl die Unterscheidung zwischen den Beiden ganz klein scheint), sondern dass ich an "Schritte" immer geglaubt hatte. Zwei Monate spaeter wachte ich eines Tages auf mit dem Verlangen fliegen zu gehen. Mit meinem Fluegel ausgepackt stand ich 30 Minuten spaeter auf einem Huegel, die Bindfaden in meinen ausgestreckten Haenden bereit zu fliegen. Ich hatte einen guten Start und ploetzlich war ich 300 meter hoch mit dem Wind tanzen.

Meinen Erfolg habe ich der jaehen unterbewussten Erkenntnis diesem Philosophie waehrend ich schlief zugeschrieben ~ ich kam zu der Erkenntnis, ich musste auf nichts warten; ich war doch schon seit immer bereit; ich brauchte nichts.

Also hat dieses Zitat fuer mich eine sehr besondere Bedeutung. Man ist ein Fotograf nicht wenn man die Uni abschliesst oder eine Bescheinigung macht, sondern wenn man die Kamera zu seinem Auge aufhebt und wahrhaftig glaubt, dass man schon ein Fotograph ist (und von daher sich so benimmt). Man ist ein Pilot nachdem er seine Fluegel sehen kann. Im Wesentlichen geht es um die Faehigkeit einfach sehen zu koennen, was schon da ist.

Also, Ich hoffe ich habe dich nicht gelangweilt. :-) (Und dazu dass du trotz meiner abnehmenden Sprachfaehigkeiten meine Gedanken folgen kannst.)

Freut mich solche Gespraeche mit dir zu haben, obwohl ich lieber Face-to-Face besprechen wuerde. Pass auf dich auf.

-H.

Jetzt, da der Name über diesem Kapitel steht, mit all seinen Bildern die sich dahinter verbergen, wie hinter einer Türe, am Ende eines Korridors, die ich vor langer Zeit angelehnt habe, dringen langsam die Strahlen dieses Licht durchfluteten Zimmers durch den dünnen Spalt in den Gang und tasten sich durch die Dunkelheit zu mir. Ein Spalt, der mich die Schwelle anderer Türen niemals überschreiten ließ, weil ich mich im Licht verloren hatte. Von diesem Licht will ich versuchen in den zerbrechlichen Gefäßen meiner Worte aufzufangen, was sich im Wasser der Zeit gebrochen spiegeln kann.

Wenn ich könnte, würde ich erzählen von dem, was ich fühlte als ich sie das erste Mal im Französisch-Unterricht sah. Aber Verlaine ist schon lange tot und ich muss davon erzählen, dass ich ein Unterhemd trug, dass es heiß war, wenn man an den Brunnen am Abend vorbei ging und dass das Licht mit dem Grün der Bäume spielte und, dass all das nur wegen ihr so war. Dass ich in diesem Sommer aufgeblasen, wie ein Luftballon dem Horizont, den sie mir in meine Welt gemalt hatte, entgegenschwebte, um sie zu übersteigen. (...)

revolution or bust

2011-02-12T19:12:00.000-08:00

...When a regime becomes especially venal, the human spirit occasionally bursts forth through the actions of large numbers of people in unison...

When Egypt awoke on Saturday morning after an all-night, nationwide party, it was for many citizens the first day in living memory without Hosni Mubarak as president.

In 18 days, revolution uprooted a regime that had ruled the country with ruthless tenacity for 30 years.

While the upheaval has opened the door to political and economic reform, its most lasting effect may be the opening of the Egyptian mind.

With the army on the streets and the old order in flames, the wall of cynical humour and pessimism erected by Egyptians as psychic protection against the crushing weight of their corrupt government seemed to split apart and crumble.

Suddenly, anything was possible.

Later in the evening, a fight erupted between protesters and army officers attempting to restore traffic near Tahrir Square, the heart of the revolution. Old fears returned.

But for a time on Saturday, the Tahrir Square reality – the universe where Egyptians banded together, separated their rubbish into organic and non-organic bins, and outlasted the "pharaoh" – became the new normal.

'We have no excuse now'

As dawn broke, all-volunteer teams of street sweepers wearing rubber gloves and cotton masks struck out along Cairo's decrepit boulevards, sweeping dust and debris into trash bags.

Where once it was commonplace to see Cairenes chuck wrappers and used food cartons with abandon, it was now impossible to drop a cigarette butt without a stern reprimand.

In and around Tahrir Square, civilians painted over and scrubbed away anti-government graffiti that peppered every surface, from the walls of the old campus of the American University in Cairo to the armour of parked tanks.

In Abdel Moneim Riad Square, near the Egyptian museum, where pro- and anti-government crowds had hurled rocks and Molotov cocktails at each other in deadly combat on February 2, men and women now formed human chains to prevent passersby from smudging the curbs they had just painted in thick black-and-white stripes.

But the effort goes beyond rubbish pick-ups and street sweeping.

What is being suggested in Cairo now is nothing short of a mental house-clearing - a complete overhaul in the way the average Egyptian has learned to do business in a society that has been smothered beneath nepotism and emergency law for decades.

One flyer being distributed on Saturday put it this way:

"Today this country is your country. Do not litter. Don't drive through traffic lights. Don't bribe. Don't forge paperwork. Don't drive the wrong way. Don't drive quickly to be cool while putting lives at risk. Don't enter through the exit door at the metro. Don't harass women. Don't say, 'It's not my problem.' Consider God in your work. We have no excuse anymore."

Read more from Al Jazeera.

Breaking Out

2011-02-07T07:57:00.000-08:00

A mural created by children at Swakopmund Youth Hostel,

blended with a textured overlay.

Re-connecting to the Land

2011-02-07T04:01:00.000-08:00

...As a business, American agriculture is extraordinarily efficient and as long as food is affordable and plentiful, people will not spend much time thinking about agriculture. As a lifestyle, Americans generally value the "idea" of the family farm but being more than two or three generations away from direct involvement in farming they have little personal commitment or interest. On the other hand, Americans may be able to develop a more personal understanding of agriculture as a means to connect with the earth, as "a conversation with universe." This conversation begins with the simple act of eating.

Wendell Berry wrote that "...eating is an agricultural act. Most eaters, however, are no longer aware that this is true." Everyone living has no choice but to participate in agriculture through the act of food consumption. This can be either a sterile, hurried act, offering little cause for joy -- or a creative, spiritual act of connecting with the earth and thus with all of Creation. According to Berry "when food, in the minds of eaters, is no longer associated with farming and with the land, then the eaters are suffering a kind of cultural amnesia that is misleading and dangerous." This amnesia prevents humans from valuing the contribution agriculture makes to their lives as a source of both physical and spiritual nourishment.

How we eat is an expression of our commitment to larger social values, such as community and democracy. Berry writes; "...we cannot be free if our minds and voices are controlled by someone else. But we have neglected to understand that neither can we be free if our food and its sources are controlled by someone else. The condition of the passive consumer of food is not a democratic condition. One reason to eat responsibly is to live free."

Read more here.

After working on Brigida's farm in Brasil, learning about biodynamic agriculture and reading Frances Moore Lappé's Hope's Edge, I knew that agriculture--in particular organic farming--would be a major focal point in my life. The more and more I looked into it, the more I realised that food is the most essential way in which we define our relationships with our environment and with each other. I have a hunch that re-connecting to the land would make us remember better who we are and why we are here. Eating is the most basic of human needs; will we choose to nourish ourselves with sterile efficiency or with a sacred connection to all that is?

Outlet

2011-02-06T08:57:00.000-08:00

S-- and I spent some time this evening perusing some potential new journals on Papaya's website. I stumbled upon this particular journal and knew immediately that this was the one which would house my experiences and musings for the upcoming months. However tempting it is to go completely electronic and digital, there is still something magical about holding a journal in your hands containing pages filled with your handwriting, your photos and other physical mementos that no e-rsatz blog could ever accommodate. The handwritten journal literally travels with you as a trusty companion, always open to listen to whatever comes to mind, its blank pages inviting you to play, to be passionate, to be creative or simply to empty yourself.

I love the feeling of searching for a journal that resonates with me at a given point in my life. If possible, I like to spend some time holding the book, flipping through the pages to determine if there is a connection. It sounds perhaps strange to speak of a "connection" to an inanimate object, but I have found from experience that if I do not carefully select my medium, then I am often hard-pressed to fill its pages (or boxes) at all.

S-- and I were bursting at the seams with creative energy this afternoon, so we stopped by Alpha to procure some coloured markers and a few pencils to complement the water-colour pencils that we had purchased a few days before. We sat for hours at the table together, sketching and experimenting. Memories of Colorado kept wafting through my consciousness, so I invoked an old adventure of one of my most beautiful hikes at Apex with Abdulghani just after I had broken my leg to create the following sketch. We had seen a beautiful butterfly perched at our feet on the trail and I was able to take a photo of its gossamer wings just before it fluttered away.

It was the first time in a very long while I had put pen and marker to paper like that and it felt so good to do so!

S-- and I have humble intentions of using these basic tools to create beauty in our life while our days are mostly focused on our work at school. We want to cover our walls in things that we have co-created simply because it's a wonderful experience that makes us happy.

Arrival

2011-02-05T10:06:00.000-08:00

Footsteps in the soft, crimson sand dancing towards the golden dunes. Effervescent bubbles promptly smoothing the slate clean for the next set of wandering feet.

Drinks under a tent next to the sparkling sea, the wind tickling our toes between widely-spaced floorboards. Warm smiles. Laughter. Moments of comfortable silence in which to soak in the energy of the evening. Healing energy, which brings calmness. Sunsets bleeding into dreams bleeding into sunrises.

A happy exhaustion that accompanies such a sweet and

long-anticipated arrival.

Wanderlust

2011-02-05T06:56:00.000-08:00

Four friends, the Namib desert

and the tropical wetlands of the Zambezi.

The sand, the sky, the stars

electrical storms, the thundering mist,

& endless daydreams.

.اللهم احسن الاوضاع في مصر

2011-01-31T22:26:00.000-08:00

Hesham and I were sitting on a bench in Sharm El-Sheikh overlooking the choppy waves of the Red Sea. The sun had just set and dusk was underway. After a long day seeking a hospital that would administer a malaria test, both of us needed a quiet moment to replenish our energy reserves.

Enjoying the cool sea breeze on our face, we discussed our respective futures, our dreams and hopes, and Hesham asked me whether I believed in destiny. I replied that I only believed in a destiny that I shaped myself.

"Do you know what we Muslims believe?" he asked. I shook my head.

"We believe that your fate is written on your forehead, not anywhere else, but right here." He gently drew a line above my brow with his finger. "It's already there when you're born, chosen for you."

I believe that, if his fate was indeed written, then the popular uprising is only a means towards the destiny that has always been invisibly inscribed on the foreheads of the Egyptian people for fairness, security and prosperity. I wish them strength in their struggle and offer my solidarity in creating the future they deserve.

But Raoof, the human rights activist, said that many people with different perspectives were banding together around a common goal.

"There is no political group leading the people. There is no one leading the people. People are going in a very organic way ... people are just doing it," he said.

Kwenda mzuri, my friends.

My thoughts are with you.

Mosi-o-Tunya

2011-01-31T10:32:00.000-08:00

The Zambezi river basin is home to a consider amount of flora, fauna, and magic...

holding on, breaking out

2011-01-31T09:41:00.000-08:00

Victoria Falls, Zambia

Windhoek, Namibia

Feel Free

2011-01-31T06:51:00.000-08:00

Second to the love and concern for well-being that I feel for

friends, family and those who are not yet friends,

nothing matters more to me than feeling free.

No matter the time, no matter the place,

the money, material items and circumstances

don't matter much to me--

As long as I can roam freely and explore.

It's what I live for.

It goes deeper than that.

There are very few places where I feel free to

truly be myself, whether in the way I treat others,

the way I express myself or my means of doing things.

I often feel trapped in other peoples' paradigms,

compelled to conform to their standards, however unconsciously.

In these last few weeks, I have revisited some of the places

where I simultaneously feel most free and at home

-- I suppose those two words

ultimately mean the same thing to me --

having honest and spontaneous interactions

with the most lovely companions.

I had the opportunity to connect a deep longing inside of me

with its ephemeral water source.

In the desert, this is of course rare,

But that's what makes the desert beautiful.

I understand that I cannot stay forever.

Although my time there was much too short,

I keep it with me as I return to rules and lonely boxes;

I know that I'll return.

Korea: King of "Cute"

2011-01-30T09:20:00.000-08:00

As painful as it was to step off the plane from gentle, tropical weather to the frigid air mass that greeted me at the terminal in Incheon, at least one thing made me smile and that is how damned cute everything in Korea is. Really. Everything from bunny-ear uniforms to bear paw-shaped gloves to cupcakes transformed into cute, furry animals. Korea truly is the King of Cute.

West with the Night

2011-01-06T23:05:00.000-08:00

I have learned that if you must leave
a place that you have lived in and loved
and where all your yesterdays
are buried deep...

Leave it any way except a slow way,
leave it the fastest way you can.
never turn back,
and never believe that an hour
you remember is a better hour,
because it is dead.

Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones,
while the future lives in a cloud,
formidable from a distance.

The cloud clears as you enter it.

I have learned this, but like everyone,
I learned it late.

— Beryl Markham, ‘West With The Night,’ 1942

The Zephyr ~ (A Stream of Being)

2010-12-27T05:26:00.000-08:00

A restless energy overcomes you and you know again that it's Time, so you walk without the notion of going somewhere. Each movement feels most intentional.

The last sliver of sun disappears from view; the landscape takes on more muted hues. You continue on and on until you are well apart from neon lights and bustling shops and the hums of engines. A steady East wind swallows the ambient noises associated with human life, while vigorously licking the bottoms of your outstretched palms and the tips of your bare toes.

The loneliness...

The brewing anxiety...

The confusion...

Each time a feeling emerges, it's blown just as quickly back. The only thing withstanding the mighty gusts is the will to place one foot in front of the other, carving the path with every step.

You are drawn to an unmarked hillside, so you begin to climb. Your nose welcomes the foggy blanket that engulfs the dry, desert air. Something new is about to blow in, you whisper to yourself. You find a comfortable place in the sand and you sit there

patiently,

silently,

until you forget to remember how much time has passed...

The bounteous moon peeks through the thick fog,

Refracting its pale blue light in strange directions,

Illuminating the sand beetle slowly making his way South,

Leaving tiny footprints,

...that disappear behind him.

And then, a sudden shift in the wind

As a new energy flows in from the West:

In that still moment you hear the Calling.

And so you stand between undulating waves --

Orchestrated by the moon's gentle tug,

And the sea of grains which dance to the zephyr's soft breath.

Something makes the pain and loneliness disappear,

Assuaged by the warmth that rises from the Earth,

The sand that moves across your feet,

The fog that turns to warm rain,

The ravens that fly swiftly past,

Calling out a name that sounds somehow familiar.

The emptiness that echoes... echoes... echoes...

Past the ridges and through the gulleys and back to you again.

Pulling you closer to a center that you cannot see,

Towards a song heard only in silence.

You touch the fabric of empty space,

And drink sweet nectar from Jangwa's gourd.

It was there all along --

You were never apart from it.

It exists in a realm that the mind cannot touch;

You must simply listen from a different place

To hear its gentle call: life’s singing bowl.

And you'll see that it cannot help

But flood right in at your feet like the sea.

So dip your toes into the source,

And dance across the shifting Earth

Towards your center.

You need not ask where that is;

Your essence already knows,

What your mind cannot.

There’s nothing left to prepare,

It’s always been ready, waiting.

You must only summon it with your silence,

Allowing other things to come into play.

And you’ll feel things shifting into place,

So effortlessly.

Are you feeling hesitation?

Wait -- you’re almost there!

Take the dial, and turn it down…

Until things get very quiet…

Now, go.

And do whatever it is you already know
You're meant to do.

Fazenda Flor do Cafe

2010-12-27T00:33:00.000-08:00

Fazenda Flor de Café, framed by steep canyon walls of the Chapada Diamantina, is run by an incredible woman named Brigida Salgada. Brigida left her job in the private sector over a decade ago because she sought a spiritually-fulfilling livelihood in which she could have a more positive impact on her environment. Today, she runs a beautiful organic farm with dozens of crops ranging from mango trees to garden vegetables to her primary crop: coffee.

I began my work at the Fazenda Flor de Café at the end of April, which happened to coincide with a weekend seminar that Brigida was due to give a group of farmers and laypeople in the small village of Capao regarding the biodynamic farming technique. A fellow WWOOFer and I both attended and learned how more and more farmers are beginning to use a technique that views the farm as a single, living organism whose interrelationships are refined to create a self-nourishing system which does not rely on chemicals, pesticides, synthetic fertilizers, or other staples of conventional farming. Biodynamic farming uses a holistic approach, seeking to balance and harness the energies of the earth and the sky to produce delicious, organic food. Brigida, a seasoned implementer of this technique, taught the course alongside her son, Fabio, who works with agriculture in Seabra.

A typical day at the farm involves rising with the sun and enjoying a delicious breakfast of couscous, fresh fruit, and a cup of the fazenda’s coffee before setting out to the fields. I happened to arrive in the midst of harvest season, so our days focused mainly on picking coffee beans, soaking them, and laying them out to dry in the concrete area behind our kitchen. Among my favorite memories from working at this farm were all of the conversations that I had with Brigida in the field while harvesting the coffee. We talked about politics, women in farming, biodynamic coffee, and much more! Brigida’s endless enthusiasm for answering our questions and offering her insights greatly enriched my understanding of how farmers like Brigida are transforming the face of agriculture across Brazil, setting the standard for holistic approaches that promote sustainability and social responsibility.

The Fazenda Flor de Café is a hidden gem in the heart of Brazil --- in addition to collaborating in producing delicious, organic food, the farm is an opportunity for an authentic cultural exchange. Come to learn more about the language, the biodynamic farming technique, the local customs of the people living in the Chapada Diamantina, and to visit one of the most stunningly beautiful areas of Brazil. Because there is no electricity at the farm, it offers a rare escape from the electronics that tend to dominate our lives, allowing us to relax amidst the natural beauty that surrounds us in all directions, including the thousands of stars that glitter above the horizon as the fireflies light up the fields below. From the first moment that you set foot on the farm, you will realise that you are about to become a part of something special.

If you are interested in WOOFing in Brasil, biodynamic farming, or the Chapada Diamantina, please contact me for more information.

Also, do check out this beautiful blog entry from another WWOOFer and this wonderful article in Portuguese.

¡편집병!

2010-12-23T05:07:00.000-08:00

{paranoia, paranoia}

Blasen stoßen hart aneinander;

Blasen mit Augen, die nur aus sich selbst heraus sehen.

Wann werden sie platzen?

vor den Ufern

2010-12-09T21:30:00.000-08:00

Langsam aus dem Schlaf auftauchend, heben sich die Augenlieder und lassen Land erahnen. Ruhiges Meer, schon immer da, seit Urbeginn, scheint mich treiben zu lassen vor den Ufern im Nebel und ich spüre, dass ich kurz vor der Küste zu Hause bin. Da, wo man Schiffe, an Klippen zerschellen. Da, wo man sich nach der Weite und dem Hafen sehnt. Da, wo alles möglich ist, weil es im Nebel verborgen liegt. Hier steige ich auf das Dach des Schiffs und rieche die Melange von Erde und Meer.

So treib ich im Nebel dahin, an den Küsten entlang, obwohl ich schon längst den Anker geworfen hab.

-- a quote long since buried in time, R.L.

The pressure mounts; energy builds; the geysers steam; an explosion is imminent. The ubiquitous smell of sulfur relentlessly permeates my senses. The water begins to spill and pour and flow over the edges of nature's caldron; bubbles crackle and pop delightfully. I look in the distance as a solitary raven gnaws at an over-picked carcass, trying desperately to satiate its hunger amidst the boiling brew. Steam obscures and distorts my surroundings. Cold, wet air enters my lungs but it cannot cool the molten emotions which push at my core, attempting to release themselves through my mouth but are held in by my tongue.

Fatigued. Restless. Simultaneous ambiguities. Floating through the sky alone on a moonless night. Cloud-surfing under the luminescent stars--paint splatters on the blanket of the cosmos. Heaven lies directly outside. Dreams fade in and out with the patterns of the wind. Raindrops tap. tap. tap. on the window in the cockpit. The light from the beacon reflects off the pillowy formations, refracting light in strange directions; darkness pools in others:

the shadows of angels on my bottomless doorstep.

Sleepy eyes awaken to a vast valley of blue, framed by snowy, jagged peaks of hardened earth, not yet eroded by friction---the indifference of nature dipped in sugar, inviting me to play, compelling me to seek.

Here, there is only

silence.

-Space.-

{Wonder.}

This was my weekend.
These are my dreams.

(9/30/2006)

Turn off the TV.

2010-12-06T22:59:00.001-08:00

Korea in Colours

2010-12-05T04:33:00.000-08:00

A sleepy sunset...

the midday fog...

and the morning chill of dawn.

Glühende Liebe

2010-11-06T06:04:00.000-07:00

--For S.

Power

2010-11-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

This photo isn't mine, but I had to repost it anyway because it is so beautiful. You can find the original post here. Such a stunning display of rarely-seen energies rising to the surface; a physical representation of the metamorphosis that our Earth is currently undergoing...

Reflection

2010-10-30T17:27:00.000-07:00

Two months later...

Eternal Autumn

2010-10-14T07:05:00.002-07:00

Since 2007, I have resided almost entirely in the season of autumn, having switched hemispheres nearly every time winter was approaching. Autumn has an unmistakable energy that cannot be found at any other time of the year. It's similar to the energy that I feel every evening at dusk -- my favourite time of day, when the ambient noise quiets, the superfluous aspects fade, and something deeper begins to surface. The whole of autumn is like that for me...

My autumns...

2010 Korea

2010 - Brasil

2009 - Utah & Nepal

2009 - Namibia

2008 - Zambia

2007 - Colorado

Vision

2010-07-19T22:32:00.000-07:00

Of all of the Kafka quotes that I have encountered,

perhaps the most curious one, which initially appeared simple

to understand lingers below all of the passages

in this journal.

"There is a goal, but no way;

What we call a way is hesitation."

For what it implies is that there is no "way,"

because we already have everything that we need.

...Because we are already "there."

We simply need to see that and do what we already

know we have to do.

This is among the biggest illusions of our time:

that we need to get "there" to accomplish our goals.

Everything that we need is set out before us.

Hesitaton, a mental response based on a misunderstanding

that we are somehow lacking something,

itself creates the only gap.

Only the pure act of Doing

relaxed and focused

can fill this space

bridging the gap

between intention

and action.

Navigating the crux of "Lixeiros" on Ana Chata near Sao Bento, Brasil

where I spent 20 minutes naming all of the reasons

I couldn't pull through in my head.

...And then, Did.

Four pitches later, watching the beautiful sun set from the ridge.

Life Force

2010-07-05T19:23:00.000-07:00

The natural world revitalises what has been lost in our sprawling concrete jungles, breathing life in between structures and pavement, into the city dwellers themselves.

Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo

Beginner's Mind

2010-06-24T06:21:00.000-07:00

"Bangladesh was in terrible, terrible shape. A lot of deaths. A lot of killings. During the war I was teaching at a university in Tennessee. But I decided I had to come back; I thought I should be useful in rebuilding Bangladesh. I came back and started doing the one thing I knew. I started teaching the same thing I had taught in the United States: economics.

"Instead of getting better, things were getting worse. Then a in 1974 a terrible famine hit. People were dying in the streets. That's a rude shock. I lived in a beautiful bungalow on a hillside near the university and would walk by people who were dying. Then I'd come back to the classroom and give my big lecture, and I said: 'What is this?' I felt completely empty.

"I came to the conclusion that these theories were useless for these dying people. I realized I could help people as a human being, not as an economist. So I decided to become a basic human being. I think that was a good decision for me because I no longer carried any preconceived notions."

--Muhammad Yunus, in a conversation with Frances Moore

"Yunus's experience of dissonance reminds me of my own at the very same age. Everything I wrote in Diet for a Small Planet was sitting there for any nutritionist or economist to put together well before I did. But because I was untrained, I didn't wear the blinders created by being taught to perceive only within a set framework. Without those blinders, I could see that there is plenty of food for all; that we ourselves create the scarcity we fear.

"For Yunus, as for me, an admission of 'not knowing' was the beginning of real learning. But what Yunus did was much trickier. He had to unlearn what he knew, so that he could look at poverty anew.

"Dropping his preconceptions and leaving his theories in the classroom, Yunus traveled into the villages near Chittagong University. He decided that to understand poverty and hunger, he had to listen to poor people themselves, in order to learn a new economics.

"What Yunus observed in these villages seems, in one sense, utterly obvious. These most hungry were those with no land. At the time, they made up at least half of the rural population. But instead of accepting whta he saw, Yunus asked: Why is it this way? Why can't it be different?

"He found that many of the landless struggle for income by making things to sell. But they must buy the raw materials, and to do that, they must borrow from a moneylender. By the time they repay the loan, plus interest (when Yunus began, interest could be as much as 10 percent, per day), what's left is never enough to live on.

"Yunus's first "aha" moment was meeting Sufiya Begum, a twenty-one-year-old mother who fed her family by making bamboo stools. She bought the cane, her raw material, with loans from moneylenders who made her sell back to them at the end of the day. Her profit? Two cents a day.

"Soon Yunus and his students had collected a list of forty-two people in straits similar to Sufiya's, and he provided each with a loan out of his own pocket. 'My loan of only twenty-seven dollars spread among forty-two people was enough,' he tells us. It was enough to liberate them all from bondage to the moneylender."

--Frances Moore, Hope's Edge

In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities,

but in the expert's there are few.

-- Shunryo Suzuki-Roshi

Climbing Coração

2010-06-21T18:55:00.000-07:00

To me, there were no real distinctions between the volcanoes that Scott and I climbed and attempted to climb, nor between the moments exerted on a snowy peak and those relaxed in the valley.

Instead of calling them separately Pinchincha,

Pasachoa, Illiniza Norte, Quito and Cotopaxi,

I decided to give them one name:

Coração.

The climb to me is never about the summit; in fact, I feel that the summit tends to detract from the experience. Each life form,

rock formation, wind gust and dewdrop along the way has something important to teach. Climbing for me has been a way to connect with the wisdom of my environment.

Coração means "heart" in Portuguese, but it also reminds me of a French word that I used to hear very often in one of the refugee camps I worked in two years ago: courage. I feel that the name really embodies my reasons for climbing -- to commit with heart-based courage to creating the best collective experience possible, even if it means abandoning traditional notions of progress.

Cotopaxi's summit remains ever elusive in an otherworldly and unforgiving environment, which can only be accessed relatively safely in the earliest hours of the morning, when the glacier has not yet begun to melt. We notice that each step, however higher, brings us farther away from everything we care about.

Volcanic rock crumbles beneath our feet, we gasp for air between

careful steps, the frozen wind howls about us, the clouds hover thousands of feet below us, and the city lights sparkle in

the distant valley.

There are no signs of plants, animals, or life in general. No view of sparkling ice crystals, crevasses, and snow caves. Only a dark, unfathomly cold impression of a summit looms above us. Each step is a struggle because the end is the only point of fixation.

Sometimes the means belie our reasons for being somewhere, or doing something. If we only have a goal in mind then we tend to push ourselves anyway to do something that feels wrong yet seems "right" in our minds for what we have set out to achieve.

The ends do not justify the means.

The ends are the means.

The Great Climb does not start at one point and end at another:

It runs through all of the peaks and valleys that we travel.

What do we call the mountain that has no summit?

Secret Garden

2010-06-21T17:51:00.000-07:00

Cotopaxi, Ecuador
{Magic}

Verdadeiro Alimento

2010-05-30T09:08:00.000-07:00

When the final tree has fallen,

when the final river has dried up,

and the final fish has been fished

you will understand that

money cannot feed you.

--Sign found in Chapada Diamantina Nat'l Park

Shadows of Identity

2010-05-29T11:37:00.000-07:00

In shadows, we can learn a lot about the nature of our existence.

We are not solid and distinct entities, but rather a combination of dynamic circumstances. Once the sun disappears behind

the clouds or the rock moves, the shadow too disappears.

The shadow cannot be separated from the sunlight,

plant and rock which create it.

Cotopaxi

2010-05-27T09:26:00.001-07:00

A pretty incredible Ecuadorian volcano.

Link courtesy of Scott, whom I miss very much. ♥

Nature's Jewels

2010-05-26T16:14:00.000-07:00

Each one of you is a jewel to me in the web of the universe
filled with incredible wisdom and beauty.

Façade

2010-05-26T16:03:00.000-07:00

Delicate Beauty

2010-05-25T19:29:00.000-07:00

Flowers coil themselves around barbed-wire fences, gossamer spider webs hold the morning dew, trees provide a cool respite from the dusty path with outstretched arms.

Vitality

2010-05-25T19:20:00.000-07:00

Dreaming of Fibonacci

2010-05-25T08:28:00.000-07:00

The Jungles & Beaches of Rio de Janeiro

2010-04-13T07:54:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I replaced the urban jungle of São Paulo...

with its more variegated and rural counterpart.

Vive en el ahora.

2010-04-12T11:38:00.000-07:00

Paraty, Rio de Janeiro state, Brazil

Chapter XXV: The Little Prince

2010-04-09T06:02:00.000-07:00

"Men," said the little prince, "set out on their way in express trains, but they do not know what they are looking for. Then they rush about, and get excited, and turn round and round . . ."

And he added:

"It is not worth the trouble . . ."

The well that we had come to was not like the wells of the Sahara. The wells of the Sahara are mere holes dug in the sand. This one was like a well in a village. But there was no village here, and I thought I must be dreaming . . .

"It is strange," I said to the little prince. "Everything is ready for use: the pulley, the bucket, the rope . . ."

He laughed, touched the rope, and set the pulley to working. And the pulley moaned, like an old weathervane which the wind has long since forgotten.

"Do you hear?" said the little prince. "We have wakened the well, and it is singing . . ."

I did not want him to tire himself with the rope.

"Leave it to me," I said. "It is too heavy for you."

I hoisted the bucket slowly to the edge of the well and set it there--happy, tired as I was, over my achievement. The song of the pulley was still in my ears, and I could see the sunlight shimmer in the still trembling water.

"I am thirsty for this water," said the little prince. "Give me some of it to drink . . ."

And I understood what he had been looking for.

I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as some special festival treat. This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present. When I was a little boy, the lights of the Christmas tree, the music of the Midnight Mass, the tenderness of smiling faces, used to make up, so, the radiance of the gifts I received.

"The men where you live," said the little prince, "raise five thousand roses in the same garden--and they do not find in it what they are looking for."

"They do not find it," I replied.

"And yet what they are looking for could be found in one single rose, or in a little water."

"Yes, that is true," I said.

And the little prince added:

"But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart . . ."

-A. de Saint-Exupéry

Continuing the Search

2010-03-29T23:51:00.000-07:00

"For me there is only the traveling on the paths that have heart, on any path that may have heart. There I travel, and the only worthwhile challenge for me is to traverse its full length. And there I travel—looking, looking, breathlessly." -Juan Matus

In twenty-four hours, I will be peering out my window into the dark, vast sky and down below at South America, wondering what magic it holds and where that magic will take me...

Immigration Reform Rally 2010

2010-03-22T22:23:00.000-07:00

A mixture of sentiments and emotions abound, as demonstrators gather to share their frustration at the current United States immigration policy at Confluence Park in Denver on Sunday, March 21, 2010. Undocumented immigrants have been systematically subjected to raids, harassment, deportation and exploitation.

The protest was held peacefully, with an overwhelming sense of dignity, which only further legitimized protesters' claims for a more loving immigration policy that would keep families together and reward hard work.

Protesters made it clear that they are here to work. Immigrants comprise 15% of the national labor force and contribute to key economic sectors such as agriculture, construction, and services, according to the National Immigration Law Center.

The protesters are calling on the United States to reward their hard work with legislation protecting them from workplace discrimination, sexual abuse, violence, arbitrary raids, and other social injustices. They are asking for basic human rights that every person should enjoy without discrimination.

They are proud to call the United States home as workers, residents and tax payers. They are only asking for the United States to recognise them as such. Education, representation and protection from criminal acts are human rights, not privileges.

Americans are often tone-deaf to the daily acts of discrimination that immigrants to the United States face, both small and large. However, our ignorance is no longer an excuse for inaction once we become aware of the injustices that pervade our society.

Learn more at the Reform Immigration for America website: http://reformimmigrationforamerica.org/

"American-born workers suffer if there is a vast pool of undocumented workers who are easily exploited by employers who seek unfair advantage. All of us are stronger if all of us have rights.

"Untargeted raids in workplaces and neighborhoods and rogue enforcement agents at all levels are terrorizing immigrant workers and dividing families without making us any safer and without fixing the real problems with our immigration system.

"Our out-of-date laws force many American families to remain separated for years – and in some cases, decades – because of backlogs and barriers to family unification in our immigration system.

"Finally, our outdated laws are practically unenforceable, driving too much immigration into the black market and not enough immigration through legal and orderly channels for immigrants who want to work in this country.

"The result is hundreds of thousands of immigrants being detained each year, hundreds of thousands deported, people forced to take life-threatening risks because they cannot enter legally, people dying in the desert, and people dying in detention due to awful conditions and official neglect.

We can and must do better."

Organic Journalism

2010-03-18T23:51:00.000-07:00

Closer... :-).

"I've always had the theory that reportage is the great unexplored art form... I've had this theory that a factual piece of work could explore whole new dimensions in writing that would have a double effect fiction does not have—the every fact of its being true, every word of its true, would add a double contribution of strength and impact."
-T. Capote

"The new journalism, though often reading like fiction, is not fiction. It is, or should be, as reliable as the most reliable reportage although it seeks a larger truth than is possible through the mere compilation of verifiable facts, the use of direct quotations, and adherence to the rigid organizational style of the older form."
-G. Talese

New Journalism could be a close cousin to Organic Journalism. The way I have envisioned it, Organic Journalism takes New Journalism a step further by allowing a story to develop on its own through no interference or prior planning--only close observation to the events in one's environment. The journalist follows the unfolding story closely for weeks or even months, adding more depth to their documentation than the who/what/when/where/why standards in traditional reportage, including personal experiences, anecdotes and emotional accounts--usually discredited as "subjective," but in my opinion, what gets one closer to the truth. I am so thrilled to be traveling to Brasil soon to experiment with the new techniques that I have been developing over the last 5 years...

I will post a more detailed description of my techniques as the vision itself begins to unfold!

Not what, but how you say it.

2010-03-17T00:36:00.000-07:00

I received an email today from a former colleague with whom I had had a major falling-out almost exactly two years ago. I had not spoken with him at all since the incident. The unexpected message was simple, but contained a sincere wish that everything had turned out alright for me. The sentiment evoked such a strong emotion in me that I cried in happiness.

Oddly enough, I'd had this dream again and again where my "enemies"--people with whom I'd exchanged unnecessary suffering--and I spontaneously found ourselves in an embrace. I would experience this incredible feeling of warmth and connectedness, momentarily forgetting that we had ever been at odds in the first place.

Sometimes, I think the most difficult climbs I've ever attempted have been from a broken relationship to a mutual sense of respect and understanding. They have been by far the most rewarding.

Some frustrations die hard.

2010-03-15T17:45:00.000-07:00

"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice.

In practice there is."

Grizzly Peak (13,427 ft.)

2010-03-14T16:40:00.000-07:00

Another beautiful alpine adventure with Scott...

Cup of Love

2010-03-11T00:12:00.000-08:00

Manhattan, New York

San Francisco, California

"Something opens our wings. Something makes boredom and hurt disappear. Someone fills the cup in front of us:

We taste only sacredness."

-Rumi

Stream of Consciousness - Part II: Letting Go

2010-03-10T11:54:00.000-08:00

In contrast to what I have seen as a driving force in my culture, I have sought for most of my life not to acquire what I do not have, but to progressively shed the things I carry with me. Over the years, I have derived less and less value from the nonessential material things that I own, as they sit collecting dust in a storage unit across town. Except for 2-3 brief visits to collect climbing gear and blankets, I have not touched most of my possessions in over two years since leaving for Zambia. Instead, their growing weight seems to defy the laws of physics, becoming increasingly more burdensome to my nomadic lifestyle.

I have sought to shed unnecessary emotional baggage -- to relinquish jealousy, anger and "blind" ambition. I used to think that these would always be inevitable forces in my life; however, I have discovered that they are simply the only option that I was explicitly given to deal with situations in my environment. My transformation arose from the realisation that emotions like jealousy are truly optional, unnecessary, and universally detrimental. This awareness has served as an impetus to seek truer and more progressive ways to react to my environment, in other words: to develop my response-ability.

As someone whose early life was strongly influenced by the values of academia, I have sought to shed my western preconceptions about learning and knowledge, which are dominated by deductive reasoning based on theoretical assumptions. Research is conducted in controlled, isolated environments, where results that do not conform to a specific hypothesis are often thrown out. In addition to contributing to the validation of misconceptions, this type of knowledge acquisition can often miss the larger picture or obscure the actual underlying influencing factors. Academics tend to reject more holistic approaches, which encompass non-traditional types of information, as "subjective" and therefore unreliable. However, a deeper examination of phenomena--especially social issues--reveals that human actions are inextricably linked to emotion.

If events are only reported in an objective context, the true "occurrance" may never be unearthed--only the physically manifested effects. For example, in war reporting, the number of casualties and the damage to infrastructure do not reflect the event from the perspective of individuals involved, but rather from the perspective of a bird flying high overhead, able to see only the sum total of physical collateral damage. If we view the war from the perspective of anyone on the ground, we see that their experiences are largely dominated by anxiety and the desire for survival. They may not remember "bird's-eye" facts with accuracy, but their collective depictions form a clearer picture of what actually happened: the rapid proliferation of acute fear and paranoia. The specific casualties and infrastructural damage are given more weight as the primary "occurance" in western reporting, even though they materialise as a product of the underlying phenomenon and the opportunity to manifest as such. I have been trying to let go of traditional ways of understanding situations so that I can get closer to the truth than a bird flying overhead ever could.

In my photography, I employ a minimalist approach regarding the use of lenses and other equipment. Unless I have a specific reason not to do so, I use a pocket-sized Canon Powershot SD 880 for the majority of my work. I understand the value of different types of lenses, filters, and camera bodies. However, I will still try to get the shot I want with my little guy first, even if it requires more effort and creative manipulation. Only in situations where the shot calls for something truly outside the gamut of my pocket camera's capability will I pull out my SLR, tripod and assortment of equipment, such as for the long exposures required in sidereal photography. Photography has always been a way for me to connect to my environment, my images depicting the interaction of something that has happened and my primordial response to it. Fumbling with gear and debating over camera settings detracts from my ability to capture that spontaneous exchange. I rarely think about how to frame an image, what exposure and aperture settings to use, and how I should portray a subject. I see or feel something that compels me to lift my camera; the shot has already been taken before I even realise what my fingers had been doing to capture it. I let go of focusing on technique and allow my environment to pull me in; my image serves as a product of our ephemeral union.

Letting go of the things I hold creates a space for opportunities to appear organically--that is, instead of pulling, I allow the beautiful forces already present in my environment to direct my way. It has always led me to experiences that have provoked personal growth and kept me in touch with the wonders of life. This force lies waiting for everyone -- but it requires letting go of the notion that specific institutions, equipment, prerequisites, or credentials will bring you where you want to go. You do not need permission to do something great, nor do you need nearly as many resources as you think. This is both a liberating and startling realisation -- for it implies that the potential has always been there but the path must be forged through intuition each step of the way.

Stream of Consciousness - Part I: Competition

2010-03-03T01:01:00.000-08:00

I watch a contrail gently pierce the haloed moon, fog spreading the glow amorphously against the darkness of space …and I know that the magic is here again. When I get shaken, something opens up, a portal to become closer to something that I only understand on a non-intellectual level. Only discomfort can propel me there, in this dynamic space between complacency and discouragement. Hearing a new melody strikes chords that feel simultaneously familiar and unexplored; my eyes brim with tears as I absorb the energy. It draws me closer, not to someone or something—it’s nearer than that.

Just Closer.

…Comparing to satiate the craving for validity… competition—the source of tremendous energy flow which manifests as goal-driven motivation. Its rewards are empty, based on false perceptions, for what does Best really mean? It’s hardly more substantial than the paper on which it is written, only safe behind a glass frame, where it cannot be blown away or torn to shreds by elements much larger and vaster than it. The owner of the title gets framed as well, caught in the square of categorization, while everything outside it eludes him. As such, are not the "Best ones" those who can escape this confinement?

Aspiring Bests only receive teachings from Betters, contemptuously regarding Worses. Betters have accomplished specific--albeit arbitrary--goals established by aspiring Bests and are therefore highly esteemed. Aspiring Bests mimic the actions of Betters and secretly desire to surpass them, while distinguishing themselves through their accomplishments. (However, an aspiring Best can only be distinguished from other aspiring Bests in trivial categories. They contribute to the Whole in astoundingly similar ways, regardless of their status in the comparison or nature of their undertaking.)

As a result, there exists a honing of motivation towards very specific endeavors, whose existence might not serve any purpose other than to provide points of comparison to others participating in this definition of success. It lacks a true substance, which would give it Value. The birth of a Better entails the creation of a Worse in a zero-sum game of blind achievement.

A Game.

A game perhaps worth playing, at least for a little while. But those who choose never to step outside have swallowed the key to their own confinement. What exists outside then? The things so ironically and ardently sought after in the desperate attempt to achieve Best-ness. The things that both the overlooked Worses and misunderstood Betters can illuminate--for if they are non-aspiring Bests from the game world's perspective, then they may have something important to teach.

Exiting the game of aspiring Bests requires a shift in focus from specific accomplishments to general methods. Since methods arise from motivation energy, the fundamental source of this energy flow must be examined. Does it arise from artificial divisions, such as comparisons or judgments? Or does it come from something else -- perhaps insufficiently described as a nebulous warmth or nearness? Ultimately, an individual’s path to what exists outside of the game can only flow from the latter. It is the path to Value: in this sense, a quality that leads to personal and collective happiness (which can only be artificially separated.) With Value, accomplishments become progress. Achievements have substance. The progression of one contributes to the progression of the rest.

A zero-sum game, which ostensibly entails gains for some at the expense of others, ultimately results in a zero-sum for everyone. Worse, if greater gains for one individual result in a loss for increasingly more individuals, then something akin to a “negative-sum” can result. Clearly, there is no winning in a zero-sum game. This is because the individual is [something between together and separate] from others in a sense that dualistic language cannot articulate.

...

If we cannot direct our efforts with this understanding, then they will be of no true positive benefit for anyone, least of all ourselves. Competition misses the boat on this one—it takes talented individuals and distracts them from accomplishing something potentially Great by entangling them in a race against each other towards a meaningless goal. A universal loss. But what if individual talent were not judged or compared, but rather combined with other complementary talents in a collaborative effort? Then our differences in approach and style would be appreciated for the true Value that they hold and employed as such, instead of destroyed by a desire to conform to a single standard of “greatness,” for no other purpose than to derive personal worth from a diminished perception of quality in others.

2010-02-23T11:33:00.000-08:00

Mural outside the Route 66 Hostel, Albuquerque.

From a conversation with Scott:

"I think that within our lifetimes, we are going to see the beginnings of a major shift in consciousness. Right now, we're at the very, very tip of it. I think our roles may well be the initial experimenters. Our success will simply be in our courage to try. That's just my take on it, what my intuitions been telling me since I can remember...."

We have learned from experience that the x-path does not ultimately bring success or happiness. But we know little to nothing about the
y-path. So do we choose the security of x? Or the unlimited potential of y?

Stepping Outside

2010-02-17T22:32:00.000-08:00

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”

—M. Scott Peck

To my dear friends who have encountered particularly difficult circumstances recently, remember that. The beauty of the world is everywhere, but it rarely appears more lucidly than during life's most challenging moments.

Midnight Adventuring

2010-02-02T11:04:00.000-08:00

This weekend was filled with full-moon adventuring, flying, and sleeping outside perched atop a snowy hill. E- & I did a midnight summit of Bear Peak, climbing straight up the incredibly icy ridge, guided only by the moonlight, with just one Yak Trak each to arrest any inadvertent falls.

We were so amazed when we arrived at the summit to see thousands of twinkling lights below us. The city is so beautiful when admired from a distance, especially on a clear night. It was almost as if the dark Earth had been sprinkled with faery dust. Magic.

We were very, very cold, but happy.

There was a thin shroud of mist blanketing the sky, creating a brilliant halo around the moon the entire time we were hiking. The forest was silent except for the occasional cougar cry, which kept us on our toes. It was a beautiful experience.

Bookmarked

2010-01-29T22:49:00.000-08:00

{wisdom & compassion}

St. Elmo's Fire

2010-01-19T17:01:00.000-08:00

Enjoying a fire on a frozen pond under a starry sky with the most incredible person I've ever met, whose kindness, patience, and love for life inspire me every day.

Playing on the ice with vintage ice skates, which essentially amounted to stiff socks attached to metal blades.

It was an adventure.

Going East

2010-01-15T10:18:00.000-08:00

Disaster in Haiti - How You Can Help.

2010-01-14T07:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends,

On Tuesday afternoon, a 7.0 magnitude earthquake rocked Haiti, destroying much of the infrastructure including parliament buildings and major hospitals, displacing up to a third of the population, and killing up to 500,000 people. Haiti is in the midst of a major humanitarian crisis, which will require a massive international effort to mitigate.

Please text "HAITI" to 90999 to donate $10 to the Red Cross to assist in their continued efforts to recover and treat those still trapped under the rubble left by the quake.

If you are interested in reading more about the disaster: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8456819.stm

The Red Cross: http://www.redcross.org/

An amazing organisation who has set up several clinics in Haiti and is currently coordinating an effort to receive overflow patients from Port-au-Prince, Partners in Health: http://www.pih.org/

Both of these organisations would very much appreciate your support during this difficult time.

Thank you in advance for your support.

Heather

No winning, no losing.

2010-01-07T20:31:00.000-08:00

Ego tends to break the flow of evolution into arbitrary distinctions. This only becomes an issue when we stop above or below a point, and contemplate our "success" or "failure," which breaks the continuity of progress either for vanity or insecurity's sake. Really, going forward is all there is, ad infinitum.

He's a Charmer.

2010-01-07T20:15:00.001-08:00

"Ný batterí" & "Olsen Olsen" - Sigur Rós

सरल सौंदर्य

2010-01-07T18:18:00.000-08:00

...what she’s looking for, what she wants, is all around her...

Beyond Mountains

2009-12-27T18:33:00.000-08:00

The people to whom I owe everything.

Con su ayuda, llegué a mi cumbre en la base de la montaña y encontré mi camino de regreso a la vida.

Travel Advice

2009-11-26T07:42:00.000-08:00

"Your trip will be incredible!! About Anapurna vs Everest, we thought Everest was so spectacular. You do have to fly to Lukla which depending on the time of year can be a pain. We had to wait 2 days for the plane to fly d/t fog. Although we also flew to Muktunath and crossed our fingers that flight would go - we had limited time while in the Anapurna area. Pokhora is an adorable town, which I so love. If you want to call me sometime we could talk more, would probably be better.

Your question about Gaya - not sure how far south of Nepal that is - transportation by bus is a trip, but for long distances miserable - we took the 12 hr bus to Sybra Bensi to climb in the Langtang-Kengengumba area and rode on the top of the bus with chickens - like I said it is a trip! But literally you are peeing on the side of the road with everyone, dying of heat, often you do not have a seat even if you bought one, the squash so many people on the bus, it is insane. My advice - fly from Gaya to KTM or chitiwan or where ever and take the time to explore more. The buses are also really dangerous they drive like maniacs, which is all part of the process, but a really long bus I would avoid you will get your fill of buses just getting around Nepal. "

Riding on the top with chickens? Dying of heat? Peeing in the bushes next to the bus along with 15 other passengers? Squashing the vehicle to at least 1.5 times its capacity? Ahh... It feels so good to go "home." : )

PS - Reading this made me smile.

Familiar Places, Fresh Perspectives

2009-11-25T08:30:00.000-08:00

It is strange to think that, two days from now, I will be about the furthest from Colorado that one can be on planet Earth, this time with no team or itinerary. Spontaneity has always played a significant role in my travels, but never to this degree. It is liberating to fully recognise that you have no power over the future by surrendering yourself to an environment, to allow it and your unspoken intentions to lead you in surprising directions.

Nothing has the cleansing power of releasing your grip on the future and of seeing old things from a new perspective. As I stood at the base of the rock after which my home town is named, I stared up at the wall before me, first at the typical ascent that I have climbed countless times in the past 10 years and then about 40 feet to the right of that route. I had never seen anyone on that part of the rock but I also wondered how many people had even tried to see if it were possible. Something inside of me told me that it was.

I scrambled up a quarter of the way, using laybacks in the crack to get to the next shelf. After some easy traverses, I came to Castle Rock's very own arch, which I had never noticed until today! I paused for a moment to appreciate the vibrant energy of dusk, smiling at the quaint town that surrounded me below.

Afterwards, I surveyed my options, searching for the next step in my project. Nothing to the right and left of the arch looked feasible. There was another crack to the left, but it was highly exposed and the rock looked somewhat chossy. To the right, the features began to disappear and the route became overhung. I sat in the cave, my arms hugging my legs, and craned my neck towards the sky. I could only see a marvelous sliver from where I was sitting, but that was all I needed. I knew that I could not fit through the crack by climbing straight up. But I could get in the crack and then traverse it by stemming my way across to a spot where it opened up to the face of the rock. I noticed passersby curiously staring up at me from where I had left my backpack. With a smile and a quick wave, I disappeared into the crevice above me.

From there, I successfully stemmed my way to the point where the crack opened up to the face. There was just enough room left on the boulder supporting me to stand on one leg, turn toward the rock, and mantle to the top. Because of the exposure, this was the mental crux of the climb. ...I took one breath in, one breath out.... All anxieties dissipated as softly as dandelion seeds scattering in a gentle breeze. In one swift motion, I swung my left leg over and pressed against the rock with the palms of my hands. I stood up and took my first step on the top, beholding the sun in the very moment that it tucked behind the horizon with a feeling of happiness and gratitude that is hard to describe.

As I watched the sun descend to the west, a wave of peace overcame me. I knew that it was time to travel East. Soon, I will begin my journey toward this unexplored horizon.

Sigur Ros & Sunshine

2009-11-22T03:17:00.000-08:00

The day was so relaxed and peaceful that even the park ranger couldn't bring himself to make us take down our line. : )

Thank You

2009-10-18T22:30:00.000-07:00

the night is warm and
dark enough to see the loving
light of the stars.

the wind blows,
causing the chimes to sound
so beautifully,
and the leaves to swirl in the air,
to dance across my toes.

all autumn long,
these leaves have been changing from
green to red and yellow
existing beautifully, preparing
for the day when only
the slightest breeze
would carry them softly to the ground.

i feel the words coming
then [pause]
to the rhythm of my beating heart.
another breeze reaches out
to touch the backs of
my ears and the palms
of my hands.

and suddenly,
it dawns on me as though
the slightest push
was all it needed.

things come gently into focus.
goals, worries, separation, anticipation
melt together
to erase the horizon.

with only darkness left
i can no longer
see "out there."

instead
i feel only
gratitude

to the people
i love.

thank you.

Minding the Gap

2009-09-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

September 7, 2009

It’s Tuesday morning and I find myself again surrounded by crimson canyons scattered with dry brush, small reptiles, and the echoing sound of singing birds. I have wandered off the trail on Porcupine Rim and hiked down a long, skinny corridor, like a rocky peninsula in a sea of space, to a spot in the centre of the canyon surrounded by a 300 ft. drop-off on all sides. To get to the spot I want to reach, I therefore have to cross a moderate-sized gap which separates it from the rest of the formation.

As I stand on the edge of the first rock, my eyes are set intently on the second one, while my mind is preoccupied with the gap itself. The risk of falling is relatively small; I am pretty sure that I can clear it. What then prevents me from leaping across in full confidence?

Perhaps it is the split second where I will have lost my grounding completely, touching neither the first rock nor the second. As soon as my foot leaves the first rock, I will have committed myself whole-heartedly to crossing the gap. If I try to change my decision after that, hesitation will ensue; this will cause me to fall between the rocks. Therefore, as soon as I leave the first rock, the presence of doubt will have serious consequences. Sitting comfortably grounded here right now, I feel free to doubt as much as I’d like, the only consequences being perhaps frustration, disappointment, and a sense of stagnation in personal growth.

While I have always understood the risk of doubt in the first situation, I have only recently begun to realise the intimate relationship between the two. My body may be ostensibly safe doubting itself in a state of non-action, but what starts as a thought will lead to a corresponding action, effectively making doubt in either situation a detriment to my overall safety.

I focus on my breath, trying to be present, to touch my thoughts and let them go. I lay down next to a small bush on my rock and close my eyes, listening to the birds and the wind whistling through the canyon. As time passes, I can feel the heat of the sun intensifying. I am sweating profusely and my tongue feels dry and leathery. I sit up to take a drink out of my Camelbak, pause for a moment to regain my balance, and sit down on the edge of the rock once more.

I stay there for a while with the feeling that I have reached an impasse, nervously sipping at my water perhaps also to stall the time. I sit with the energy of the moment, with the thought of that small instant when I will find myself between two rocks, my feet resting in empty space rather than on solid ground. In this moment, the gap is not a gap and rock #2 is not a rock. The gap and the rock have transformed into tangible fear and I am about to spring right into it. The thought terrifies me. I seriously consider forgetting the whole thing and moving on. My tongue starts to feel dry again.

As I reach for another sip and my mind becomes preoccupied with that action, I feel my body shift suddenly without my permission and leap across the gap. When my feet land on the second rock, I am completely still for a moment. Then, I start to shake with excitement, a huge grin on my face. I climb back to the first rock and jump again…

and again…

and again…

Each time, I become more confident and making the leap becomes exponentially easier. By the fourth time, the gap becomes again a gap; the rock, a rock.

Fear is a specter that manifests in the physical world by inhabiting objects and people. We may believe that we are afraid of what we can see, hear, taste, touch, and smell with our senses, but this is merely an illusion – a mirage which disappears the more we approach it. When we get close enough, we realise that what attracts us to it is not anything that we can see or hold but rather the vibrant energy which (at the moment) underlies it.

Our whole being is called to it, even if our conscious mind is unaware of what is happening. Our primordial attraction compels us to begin our journey towards it, whether or not we are consciously aware of it. At this point, our mind is already creating a storyline to justify the “urge” and to determine whether to continue down the path or abandon it. In both cases, the storyline does not reflect the actual reason for being there and should be regarded as an ego distraction. The true “reason” for going cannot be articulated because it exists outside of the framework of reason itself, which is only the domain of the mind, not our being in its entirety.

My writing is interrupted by a cawing raven flying above the valley. I look quickly to my right and see its shadow pass beside me on the rock. As I glance towards the sky, I watch it catching thermals, which take it higher and higher above the Earth. What a majestic and solitary creature! It dives dramatically and disappears behind a nub in the canyon. A fly appears just as suddenly on my backpack, disappears, and then reappears on my journal. I grab the book and hold it closer so that we can both have a better look at each other. We are still for a moment. Then he disappears again.

Why are we called to approach this energy? What moves us to step up to it rather than attempt to evade it? Perhaps we begin to follow our calling to approach fear when we arrive at the realization that fear is unavoidable, that it is imbued in the fundamental fabric of our lives. How we deal with its presence determines the way we respond to our environment at every moment. Someone who understands this relationship can look deeply into another person’s behaviour and understand the underlying intent of everything they say and do.

When we realise that encountering fear is inevitable, we begin to want to have a closer look at it, to know it well. If we are able to do this humbly and without aggression, then we can hold it within us and even become friends with it, rather than see it as something to conquer or avoid. This allows us to be at peace with ourselves at all times, regardless of the situation we are in.

The key is not to get caught up in form, but rather to focus on the energy. Each person will find it in different things and should bear in mind that it constantly enters and exits the places it inhabits. When it leaves one entity, one should not make the mistake of believing that she’s “won.” There is no winning, losing, or conquering – only coming to seek, momentarily finding, and then leaving again to continue the search.

I tend to be drawn to forms of fear whose roots are clear and simple, as in a jump, so that I can work with it. Ultimately, I use what I’ve learned to enter murkier waters in other areas of my life, where the fear may manifest less acutely but the effects of which encompass a much greater realm of consequence—such as in the cases of anxiety, restlessness, frustration, jealousy, anger, and boredom. In other words, I can more effectively transform the habit responses which prevent me from being happy, capable, and free.

Though the choice of walking away from a leap on a hike exists, I know that I cannot avoid the aspect of the leap that made it difficult in the first place -- the reality of uncertainty and impermanence. This is why I use every opportunity to practice. The constant training makes me calmer, stronger, and more confident in dealing with the unavoidable challenges and aversions that arise every day.

The point of the practice is not to eradicate fear but to hold it without being afraid by it. Then, instead of causing us to close up and shut down, fear can be our greatest teacher, helping us to cross the most daunting gaps in our lives. It can allow us to take something which formerly caused us much anxiety and suffering and turn it into something beautiful.

Great Desert Flower of Namibia

2009-09-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

Nico, my dear co-pilot,

You told me that she was flying again, but you didn't say that you would join her so soon. You were the great desert flower of Namibia, who managed to thrive in the most inhospitable environment with an inexhaustible supply of smiles and joy. Just as I began to feel stranded in a sea of desiccated Earth, you appeared out of nowhere. The first time I saw you was in the sky--like warm rain, you landed before me and nourished me with your kind, imaginative, and gentle demeanour. Oh Nico, I will never forget the freedom of being in the air with you, soaring over the sands of time, restrictions, intolerance, bureaucracy, and racial tension. You simply treated everyone as a dear friend, regardless of who they were and even when they did not reciprocate your gesture.

I keep flashing back to fragmented memories from Omaruru---from the commonplace task of taking sodas out of the refrigerator and marking our names on the tab sheet to the extraordinary experience of feeling the wind slip over my face as we watched the sun descending under the darkening sky with Brandberg Mountain in the distance. Every time a new one comes, I smile, because for a second, you are reborn to me. Despite my best intentions, this feeling always slips away the more I relive the memory in my mind. And then you slip away... Later, I see a purple aster growing out of the sand or hear an engine roaring overhead, and you are born again. Then, the flower disappears from view and the roaring fades, and you leave once more, like an undulating wave that makes contact only for a precious moment before returning to the sea.

One day, when my wave reaches its crest, it too shall be compelled to return to the source from which it came. Then, the energy that my wave carried will be transferred to the next as it goes out and touches land for that ephemeral time of its own. My understanding of this also comes and goes in waves; I touch it when I see what happened to you not as a death, but as a continuation of the transition that occurs at every moment. Is it not true that you and I are made up solely of non-you and non-me elements?

I will always remember our fabulous adventures above this beautiful planet and I will try my best to follow your example, radiating happiness and joy in my actions without discrimination, like a sun which extends a smile to everything in its path of warm light. It is difficult to feel sad when I am so filled with gratitude for everything that you have given me. Thank you, Nico, for simply being who you were and sharing the wealth of your wisdom with others in every way that you knew how. I will find you again, this time blowing across the crimson sands, continuing to transform them in ways that even you yourself could not have imagined. When I do, I know that I’ll be standing where the sea of red meets the sea of blue.

Fly free, my friend.

Heather