The sharpness that comes with a soft sunrise.
Another day of decision, perspective, consequence.
Bellingham Editorial Art Project
Who Fears Death?
What, when we breath our last?
What becomes of the processes, the structure, the feelings, the thoughts, in the end?
Did our actions matter? How we held ourselves? Who we loved? What we created?
Thoughts on the uncertainties of being human.
Orcas Island
In October we took a trip to commemorate our 10 year anniversary, which was in April, which is finally being blogged in January. Confused yet? The jist is, after 3 years of regular life, we finally took a vacation.
Bryan and I have been married 10 years, together 12. It was and is a great reason to go somewhere different, which turned out to be only 30 miles away (if you were a bird)- Orcas Island. It’s a land mass we’ve seen across the bay for the last 3 years, but never ventured to. Tons of photos in this post; be ye warned :-)
We had a marvelous time, doing a whole lot of nothing. We cooked meals, played checkers, beach combed, watched movies, and read books. So, I suppose we didn’t do “nothing.” But given our schedule for the last three years, it felt that way. It was magnificent.
I’m thankful for my time with my husband. I’m fortunate to have married my (still) best friend, and while no relationship is without its strife, I wouldn’t change it. A life with someone who stays, helps the healing from life’s inevitable wounds, knows how to laugh, and isn’t afraid to talk politics, existentialism, or simulation theory before 7am (even when I am), is a treasure.
Coming Home
By Mary Oliver
When we are driving in the dark,
on the long road to Provincetown,
when we are weary,
when the buildings and the scrub pines lose their familiar look,
I imagine us rising from the speeding car.
I imagine us seeing everything from another place–
the top of one of the pale dunes, or the deep and nameless
fields of the sea.
And what we see is a world that cannot cherish us,
but which we cherish.
And what we see is our life moving like that
along the dark edges of everything,
headlights sweeping the blackness,
believing in a thousand fragile and unprovable things.
Looking out for sorrow,
slowing down for happiness,
making all the right turns
right down to the thumping barriers to the sea,
the swirling waves,
the narrow streets, the houses,
the past, the future,
the doorway that belongs
to you and me.
Gripping this little daredevil for dear life. >>>>>>>>>
365- Month Nine
Colorful September.
A myriad of tones in leaves and skies.
An end to Summer. The gateway to Fall.
One of my favorite months.
365- Month Eight
On Fire
August, the month of fires. A fire burned in us to capture everything left of summer, pull it towards us, and never let go. We were outside as much as possible, as much as the air quality would allow. We had a dog get super sick on us, we bought groceries, we stressed, we worked, we parented, we drank coffee of course. Life happened.
And fires, in our state, to the North in Canada, to neighboring states in the south and to the east. So much has burned this year. And it continues.
I worry that one of these years it’ll touch our city. Will it be a nudge, or a full on assault? They say so much land along the west coast just needs to burn. That the population here has left forests who once regulated themselves through burning, out of whack. Its understandable. And with the change in our climate, there are conditions where fire would be (and currently is) devastating. The human desire to exist and live in beautiful places isn’t wrong, but these consequences are hard to watch.
And ideas, spreading like fire. Good ones, and some really bad ones. Ignited, people are acting on these ideas, horrendous things are being said and done. A lack of empathy seems to have caught hold of so many, too. And I worry how long that particular fire is going to burn.
So everything around us feel like kindling. And what can be done? You douse things with as much watery love you can, donate your extra garden hose, manage your own fires so surrounding growth stays healthy. You hope, once the heat is over, things can calm down and you are able to breathe again. And in the interim, you learn to breathe smoke.
Fire is a powerful, destructive force. But it can also be a catalyst for change, and even more beautifully, regeneration. I hope we start to see more of the later.