One Thousand Words

You’ve heard it before. A picture is worth a thousand words. And we love them: images, because of their depth, their layers of insight. A picture tells us so much, not only of it’s subject, but insinuations are made to it’s creator as well. Their eye, their thoughts and emotions bleed into the frame. Seeing is believing, and so often if we don’t understand, we need to see it to get the picture.

Now a days our world is saturated with images. From advertisements that carry connotations of sex and mystery, to news media that inflames, and infuriates. All the while flooded by a steady stream of social media pictures. All together that’s a lot of words, a lot of thoughts and facts and feeling, and it can be a bit much. It washes over us, desensitizing us to a degree from the images that might have otherwise had a dramatic impact on our lives.

Images carry power. Sometimes it’s unspeakable or intangible, but its a strong emotion every viewer shares. Other times the picture might be veiled or vague, an elicit drastically different reactions from viewers based on their past.

I want to start a new Album, a bit of a study. I’d like to publish a picture here every week and accompany it with one thousand words that I associate with the image. Sometimes that might be what it says to me, what it’s of, experiences or memories it dredges up, or maybe just what I was doing when I took it.

One thousand words can be a lot, so I might not always make it, after all I’ve written about two hundred seventy words at this point and said pretty much all there is to say. This is an introduction with a bit of accountability thrown in as well. If I manage to run with this theme for a while, I thought it might be helpful to have a post to kind of explain it. The accountability might be more apparent to me as I haven’t published here in a while, but whether or not it actually encourages me to do the work remains to be seen.

Some pictures we look at ever day, whether they’re on the wall or background of our computer. Their story changes and evolves. Other images we haven’t seen for years, but their sight is familiar and nostalgic. Every picture is hiding it’s thousand words, and I hope that by sharing a few of mine here, we might be able to slow down and appreciate the depth of some of the more profound images that wash over us every day.

Stranded

It’s part of every traveler’s journey, we get stranded. It’s never what you want and rarely exactly what you expect. We run aground. Sometimes it’s as easy as jumping in knee deep water and pushing off again, other times you’ve got to wait till the tide changes. Occasionally, but not often, the ship breaks up and you’re cast adrift.

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Gnarnia

When you’re young you’re told of magic, myths, and miracles. You’re made to believe, to wonder about what’s out there, what’s real. It’s like a set up, or a trap, only it’s meant to make us want to discover. We’re told there are doors that will open into new worlds, realities that fulfill our wildest dreams. We can live however we want, be whoever we want. Continue reading “Gnarnia”

Enchanted

So often life takes energy. You have to stay focused, have direction. Things don’t just happen themselves, you have to work for it. But other times you find the flow. Opportunities seemingly fall in your lap, skeptically you reach out, things shouldn’t be this easy you think. Like a magnet you are drawn forward, unsure of your journey or destination. This is magic.

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Self

The last few months have been a lot of adulting. Part of it is moving to a new state, a new job, but a lot more is just shit I’ve been avoiding by living in a dorm and devoting my life to skiing. Where every day you skied until you could barely stand, then you’re fed a plate of Gambas al ajillo and you pass out. I’ve been doing a lot of standing in line. A lot of wearing the hat. Commuting. Forms. Licensing. I work for the state, so there’s ten times as many forms. Safety check. Fuel Card. Highway Protocol.

It’s not bad. It’s not necessarily good, either. It just is. This is what I’m doing. I’m conforming. I’m learning. I’m applying. It’s a pretty crazy time moving somewhere new. Trying something new. So much change, how do you find you balance? How do you keep an even keel when the seas around you turn upside down?

I don’t think I have an answer for you here. I’m not sure I’ve been doing it. I mean I guess you have your habits, your comfort zones, your experience to draw from, but it seems like a big part of the process is breaking apart. Becoming something new. You’re growing. It’s not always obvious, or easy, or enjoyable. But then you get a glimpse of this new thing you’re building with your life and it’s worth it. It’s inspiring. You’re stoked.

What I wanted to point out here, is what goes on with your self during this whole process. Or more accurately, to just shine some light on how the self grows, adapts, refines, and regresses. During these periods of change your self gets put in some really open and vulnerable positions. Sometimes it rises to a new level, one you haven’t seen before and don’t really recognize. Other times it’s backed into a corner, forced to defend a position it no longer supports or understands, it can make you squirm in discomfort and embarrassment. Eventually the self picks up some new skills, some new understanding, lets go of others, and sheds its skin in order to become a new version of itself.

There are parts that will always be you. That you’ll never be able to get rid of. Parts that will always shape your experiences. As you grow older, as you continue to put yourself out into the world and experience new and different things, you’ll begin to recognize these things. Some of them you’ll love, some of them you’ll hate, others you’ll wish to cultivate.

The point is this: after months of jumping through these hoops, slowly turning into this individual I don’t always recognize, one who’s licensed to build explosives and drive commercial vehicles, I’ve realized they can NEVER take my license to chill. That no matter what you do or where you go. YOU will shine through, your self will set the path for you, in a way. Make friends with it, I guess, is my advice. It might show you a good time.

One Year Gone

Two weeks to a year that you’ve been gone. Despite all the times I’ve thought of you or felt your presence, I’ve written so very little concerning you directly. I wonder where you are, what it’s like on the journey of death, and how it must have been to start that pilgrimage so deliberately, and hopelessly, as you did.

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Real Life

What up party people!? I’ve returned from my vow of digital abstenence and bring with me deep realizations, shallow epiphanies and nuggets of truth and dingleberry. While I saw some breathtaking beauty and some gut wrenching ugliness, most everything was just plain old beautiful ordinary life.

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