Seasons of Change

Seattle Autumn is mild, but those fire balls on tree trunks are not as vivid when light doesn't dance on the leaves. But when the sunlight slices through the thick gray for a few minutes, it's beautiful. Although I think Chicago has some of the most spectacular Fall months I've ever seen...So I wonder what do the seasons mean? Why do our bodies respond with stuffy noses and dry skin? Why do colors mute, and gray filters cover my hazel eyes? Why do endorphins and energy levels change? Our thoughts look forward to December, and dread January? Christmas is no coincidence. Our souls may hibernate but they drink, eat, and are still hungry for company. Green grass is still underneath the cold, but our bare feet are inside on warm carpet. Then Spring emerges, and we are rejuvenated; but why not be refreshed by Winter?

Early Winter Spires

Matthew was ahead of me, the first of the two of us to climb back over the "whales hump" that sits up another 40 feet above the 400 feet we have already climbed. He scampers out a couple feet as I hold the rope, turns around, swings his leg over the steep side and straddles the hump. He grabs the spine of the rock with his left hand and raises up his right arm, swinging it in circles. 'Yeeeehaaaawwww', riding his horse on top of the world, he smiles the biggest smile I have ever seen. And I know he's home. I know after all these years of knowing each other, endless discussions of photography, school, travel, careers, rock climbing, kayaking, the past and the future, and how do all of these align to make the most beautiful life we've ever seen... he has found a home on that mountain horizon. I am so happy for him, and I am so happy for me. It's not always simple or easy, but this new city, geography, landscape, has given us the distance to be ourselves when we need to be, but be as one when the sun sets, and you're looking for that hand to hold.
Life is taking on new meaning for me lately.

write, call, email, blog, paint, print, and participate

Communication has has been focusing on other aspects of my life lately. It feels like it's been a long time since I have put some effort into writing. This blog needs to become something that it currently is not. But I am not sure what transformation this blog deserves. I am not a photographer. I am not a [good] blogger. Really, I am not interesting enough that anyone wants to seriously check out what I do. But I like my life, and I do interesting things every day. But we all do. And today, many think that their lives are worth broadcasting and shouting. I don't know what I think of that.

So, I write. Because I can. It's free and I am not bad at it.

But I am in a nonprofit management program, and I think in the future I will write more about what I discover about this sector. I will write about news, about developments in the arts world, about the pacific northwest nonprofit industry. Or maybe I won't write at all. Maybe I will just live my life and not tell anyone about what I am doing, because if they really want to know, they'll ask. And if I really want them to know, I'll call. I just can't decide right now. Monday morning seems so cold and stiff so far.

So, I'd like to hear about what people are doing. But you don't all have blogs, so I guess I'll have to write you all a letter to ask and find out.


I like the ease of technology, but waiting for mail has improved my patience and consequently my relationships. I love many things. And I love to look at what people think is interesting, and what kind of art they are creating. So I partake in the participation and consumption of mass art. We are now what is called ProAms, Professional Amateurs. I am an amateur of hundreds of things, and a professional at nearly nothing. Consequently, I cannot claim the word professional in any title of mine. Let's have a discussion of what the heck that means.