The Path of No Path

Last Summer Sitting together on the banks of the Truckee My best friend Shelly, ageless wisdom beaming from her fifteen year-old eyes,  “You really can, you know, tell by the sound of it, that is, whether a stream is  happy or sad.” Sitting in silence together, on that warm summer day, waiting, watching  the sunset over Donner Lake.  Thirty-seven years ago. Shelly’s words, spoken in one of those timeless, powerfully subtle, almost deniably so, life altering moments, awakened me. I answered the ringing phone, and listened. A compelling conversation between me and the natural world. The writer, photographer; as witness, was born that day.  The deeper the passion  the more resounding the  crack  when hidden chasms  finally open.  That ominous,  hideous, marvelous rumbling crescendo  as the high mountain dam bursts.  Words and ideas  as free as the once trapped waters, gushing, swirling,  violently crash onto the p...

You Know Me, Right? Two pithy statements come to mind at this point in time.  The first one goes something like this “if you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention,” and the second, “if you didn’t learn anything today, you’re not paying attention.”  So in my head, when these two modern-day Koans mash together, I am left with the result that says, “if I’m paying attention, and I am, I have learned something, and what I learned is that I’m outraged about a great many things.”  Looking under the surface a little more deeply, at the subtext of my life and my own inner world, I find I am less than satisfied. My ideals haunt me. Listening to the news broadcasts, and talking with my friends, some of whom I’ve known for the better part of several decades, and I can’t help but think that those of us who helped create and participate in that original Earth Day celebration, and other important milestones of my generation, have missed the mark. The powerful idealism that shap...

The deeper the passion, the more resounding, the crack, when the hidden chasam finally opens. That ominous, hideous, marvelous rumbling crescendo as the high mountain dam, bursts. Words, as free as the once trapped waters, gushing, swirling, violently crash onto the paper.