the wide span of nothing that is everything
Sitting. Meditation. Mindfulness. While these practices have become more mainstream, they are ones I've wanted to commit to more formally.
Sitting. Meditation. Mindfulness. While these practices have become more mainstream, they are ones I've wanted to commit to more formally. So last spring, I took the leap and committed to 7:00am Zazen on Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Zen Center North Shore. I can honestly say that June was one of the best months I've ever had. Those two days grounded my week in ways of a structure and discipline, and I felt an expansion that was peaceful and liberating.
As my ride to the Zen Center includes a sweeping vista of the coastline, I decided I wanted to take one photograph a week as a reminder of my commitment, so I left early enough for a moment of reverence. The very first picture I took on May 26th marked the beginning - The Wide Span of Nothing that is Everything. And so this project and personal endeavor began.
Though projects and personal travel and commitments pulled me away from mid summer to late fall, I recommitted to a daily practice and as part of my personal ritual, I stop to take a photograph most every morning.
While the project began rather loosely (void of structure) and is still taking shape, I've been returning to a similar vantage point. Not precisely, but approximate. I say that as what I''m looking at is the sky, it doesn't always present itself from one point of view.
I believe in the year ahead, I'll start to journal a little more and add a phrase or thoughts. Or not. i don't honestly know. I don't feel a need to figure it out either because it's tied to my practice which is a path one simply sits in rather than defining.
This is the beginning and the end and all that's between.
L'avenir, comme tout le reste, est pas ce qu'il était
The future, like everything else, is not what it used to be. ~ Paul Valery
The future, like everything else, is not what it used to be. ~ Paul Valery
The French Riviera, Nice
And so I watched the television screen replay the video while tears fell from my eyes and my heart cracked into a different kind of grief broken only by pauses of silent shock as it was a little less than one year ago today that I had a chance to spend three weeks in a paradise of blue and white light that bounces and reflects a warm radiance. A mythical city where each impression was a lyrical sensation - the language, the food, the people, the art, the antiquity in the modernity. I was struck by the care given to something as humble as a baguette and coffee, for the simple pleasure of sitting under the awning of a cafe lingering in timelessness - no particular place to be at any particular time sans agenda.
While my time in Nice wasn't particularly an easy one given the task I was there to fulfill, I was warmed by a beautiful group of people who embraced me in a way I hadn't expected. I was surprised by a rise of internal independence and a voice that had long gone silent finding it's way out into the world. On fragile wings I navigated this beautiful city in an ordinary way: walking the streets, sitting in outdoor cafes, strolling on the Promenade de Anglais, afternoon time at the beach to immerse in the sea and delighting in the simple pleasure of a meal. I had no phone to preoccupy me, no book or newspaper nor could I speak the language. I only had my senses to work with and my camera and pen/paper to relay and preserve my impressions.
So what has happened in Nice ripped through me in a way I cannot describe. And after ensuring the safety of those I adore who live in the city, I went to the photographs which I've never shown as a whole. As a way of extending love and my own little flower on an altar of prayer, I felt a need to share images from my time both in color and black and white. For this is the city I had the great fortune to spend time in and a place I will return to again.
This is the city of Nice. A jewel that shines in the heart of the French Riviera.
In color
and black and white
long weekend in maine
I had just come off of a rather stressful event project the first time I visited Maine and I will never forget the ride to there from Boston.
I had just come off of a rather stressful event the first time I visited Maine and I will never forget the ride to there from Boston. As the miles ticked by, so did all the burden's I'd carried over many months. And by the time I arrived, I felt I'd escaped into neverland.
Solstice Full Moon, York Maine - 2016
The ten days in Southern Maine actually led to the decision to move. A decision that arose after a day on Ogunquit Beach . As I sat on a patio having a snack, lingering over the last bits of sunshine, a ladybug flew onto my hand and being their significance in our world, I took it as a sign of all that had been blowing through my brain. I'm not sure what it is about Maine, or the Southern part we frequent, but there is something decidedly different. The pace is a little slower, my heart is a bit more open and appreciative, and everything just feels a little simpler and softer. So took advantage of an offer to spend a long weekend and left the world for four long beautiful days. Awakening early each morning with coffee on a deck surrounded by tall trees, time on an empty beach as it wasn't yet high season, and walks along the ocean does something to a person's soul in a good way. That our short visit happened to coincide with a solstice sun and full moon was icing on the cake. I guess there's a reason for the sign as we cross over the border from New Hampshire: Maine - The Way Life Should Be.
springtime in february
While a gift to have a 70 degree day on the first of February (particularly given the series of storms last year at this time), it is a most likely the result of the changing climate with confused seasons and an unpredictable forecast.
While a gift to have a 70 degree day on the first of February (particularly given the series of storms last year at this time), it is a most likely the result of the changing climate with confused seasons and an unpredictable forecast. To say it was impossible to remain indoors was an understatement, particularly when there's a deep awareness that this isn't going to last.
boat and lines | marblehead, ma, 2016
the sketch
I am without words to aptly put the year behind into some kind of focus ... let alone a context to all the life that's been lived.
I am without words to aptly put the year behind into some kind of focus ... let alone a context to all the life that's been lived. Given the tendency at this time of year to make sense of what’s past, I think we are naturally inclined to understand our truths; to thoughtfully reflect on what felt like triumphs; to make sense of those times when the shadows were a little darker and days felt a little heavy. That by doing so, perhaps we can infuse what lies ahead into a mirage we cling to in our minds - that bit of nirvana we hope and pray for in our day to day. But when I think back to the bits I remember of last year at this time in thinking about the year ahead, I can only recall a desire to sense an impression - to sketch an outline instead of a shape. Yes I had hopes and wishes and goals yet they were trivialities in the grand scope of the review mirror for I could not have even in my wildest imagined all I've experienced. So on the second to last day of this year, I am reviewing all that was; retracing the steps, recalling the sights and sounds, the faces and places and spaces ... the seeds of last year's grains cast to the wind for the year ahead.
Wells Blog
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