journeys of a restless mind

through the window

oh no!

30 days of truth: something I hope to do in my life

Well, there are a lot of things I hope to do. I've got my list like everybody else. (I refuse to call it a bucket list, however. Just, no.)

I hope to get Hijo to Mexico to meet his grandparents and other family there.
I hope to go hang gliding.
I hope to live in Italy.
I hope to have my own ofuro in the woods.
I hope to fall in love again.

But the thing I most hope to do has to do with what I wrote about in this post: I hope to get my act together enough to finish some sort of large creative project. (And then do another one and another one.)

Meanwhile, another wee little creative project:

30 days of truth: something I love about myself

I like many things about myself; I am a delightful person. The whole love thing seems like a bigger commitment, though. We are encouraged to love ourselves, told that we must love ourselves before we can truly love another and alla that. But what does that mean, exactly? I've never quite figured it out. But I can pick one thing.

I love that I find life open to interpretation. I love that I'm willing to change my mind. I love that I fall in love easily and crazily and with all sorts of people (sometimes at the same time). I love that I can sit in a train compartment with a group of people that don't speak my language and have a lovely time with them. I love that I learn from my mistakes. This may sound like a jumble of different things, but what it really boils down to is that I'm open. And I love that about myself. I want to let all of life in and not shy away from it. I want to consider many points of view. I want to see that people change, that I can change, that there's no such thing as being truly stuck. To me, all of that is openness. It's letting go, it's faith. And while I may not always be as open as I'd like, I'm always pushing at the door.

(OK, quick, I have to say something self-deprecating, because this is a bit much.)
(I can't think of anything properly self-deprecating right now. Damn.)

Must be time for a foto:

 

 

30 days of truth: something I hate about myself

Hate is a pretty strong word. We try not to hate, right? We avoid it. Hate implies a lot of passion. I don't know that I feel that passionately about myself over anything, good or bad. But it's the first day of this 30 day dealio, so I'll play along.

I hate my inablilty to get focused enough to complete any sort of relatively big creative project (like, say, a novel). Hell, even a well-crafted short story would be a major accomplishment at this point. It's not that I don't think I have the ability, it's more that I can't narrow the range of my thoughts and my will and my desire down to a small enough range to sit down and work on it day after day. I am scattered. I am easily distracted. I want to write AND take fotos AND make prints AND read and and and.

You might say I have no discipline, but I hate that word. I hate that I get a lot of encouragement and it only makes it harder to push forward. I hate that I seem to be scared not just of doing well, but of the work it takes to do anything at all. (Oh, the hate, it is flying now.)

The nice thing about hate is that it carries energy, and that means there's something there to work with. Hate is better than "meh."

Meanwhile, another foto:

 

the call

A few adolescent elk at the edge of the herd

Have you ever heard the call of an elk? Elk are quite large. You don't want to mess with them, especially the bucks with their impressive antlers. Those of us who live on the Olympic Peninsula are pretty blasé about wildlife. Bald eagles, yeah whatever. Bambis, please just get out of my way and stop eating my roses. But we are still impressed when we run across the resident herd of elk. There are a lot of them, and when they gather, they take over a larage space. They are still afraid of people. And they sound like the strangest cross of bird, woodland fairy, and first year clarinet student that you've ever heard.

It's high-pitched, it's wheezy and whistley, it's downright eerie. It starts high and rises higher. It does not inspire confidence.

How is it possible that such big magnificent animals sound like that? What purpose does it serve?

I don't know. But I do know that if you are standing rapt at the edge of a large field watching them graze or rest and you hear this sound, you will never guess it is coming from them. But you will pay attention. And maybe that's all it needs to do.

boats

birds in the fog

More foggy fotos to be found at flickr.

crabby

quite possibly my favorite 365 shot so far

The rest of the series can be seen here.