Entryway

 When I passed this tree early one morning, what I saw at its' base looked like little more than a shadow, a slight indent in the base, so I kept on walking. After perhaps fifteen more steps, I decided to go back and look a bit closer at what was actually there. Although I didn't lean in or bend down as low as I could have to get the best view possible, I saw what looked like a small entrance, almost door-like, as you see in the picture below.
   The idea of a door or entryway, real or metaphor, got me thinking about ways to think, or perhaps experience things a bit differently, as a door allows us entry or exit from one space to another. I thought about why I hadn't chosen to get much closer to this tree to see more clearly what I was photographing, and realized that I probably hadn't wanted this vehicle for my own possible transformation, even if momentary, to be interrupted by specificity.
   

What is that?

Nature rescue

The two pictures below were taken at the time of, and morning after an upsetting altercation of sorts with a family member. In the top picture, we had been eating here in San Francisco at a restaurant located near the bay, and I needed to leave the restaurant for a few minutes to collect myself and take in what had just happened. Luckily for me, this city has many beautiful places to admire nature in a peaceful setting, and this particular location was one of them. It was around seven o'clock in the evening, and the warmth of the day was quickly giving way as the wind propelled fog swept in through the golden gate. There is still something almost magical to me about watching the marine layer form in the sky here, even after seeing it for more than nine years. To me, there is little that can equal it for being, well, so organic.

   When the bottom picture was taken, I was taking my morning walk, still upset and unsure of exactly what had happened the evening before, and what my part in it was. I often times berate myself and feel guilty for things which I am not responsible, and when it comes to family matters, this can be especially tricky. As I walked, the exercise and beauty of the place helped me get back to a more peaceful, neutral place, at which point I saw the slug below. Seeing small things that are alive helps me to focus, and the very act of looking closely at things often puts me in a kind of meditative state.

   Beautiful, natural things have for years allowed me to better remember what I find truly important, and I try to put myself in these places as often as I can. Often, being in these environments is a kind of preemptive strike against feeling distraught at later times; sometimes, it's the specific cure. 

   

Alone island

I took this picture a couple of years ago while visiting China Camp State Park in San Rafael, California. It was quite warm that day, and being new to this particular park, my wife and I explored the area by car, looking for interesting things to see. About half way around the park loop, we saw something small in the distance, difficult to determine, which turned out to be the small island that you see below. We drove towards it, parked the car, then found a place to sit nearby.
   We sat under the hot sun on the edge of a hill and thought about what we were looking at, Was it man- made, and if not, how did it end up all alone there in the bay? It struck me as more alone than lonely at the time, and this feeling is for me still strong after visiting it again and thinking about it quite a bit over the last two years. There is for me a stoic quality about how utterly by itself it appears there, but there is also a strength and dignity to it. It seems like it's comfortable in it's solitude, and I admire and would like to attain that kind of peacefulness in myself.
 

Odd duck

   I don't know very much about ducks, but I enjoy watching the ways they interact with each other, and admire that they are able to survive without seeming to know where or when their next meal will come, or how the rest of the day, or their lives for that matter, will progress. It's also quite interesting to me that they seem to mostly stay together as a group (despite the occasional territorial squabble), yet when there is food available, they appear willing to throw their cohorts aside without care.
   I took the picture below a day or two ago during my daily walk, but I have noticed this one particular duck for at least a week, as it stands out from the rest (which I believe are mallards) in both size and color. I was drawn to this scene because I like the idea that this apparently different animal not only seems to be accepted by the others, but that it accepts the others in return. Perhaps it is just desperate for the comfort of the group, but it is also accepting of the group, something that I feel conflicted about in my own life at times.

Joking around

   My friend Jim took this picture of me in a store I like on Castro Street while we were waiting to see a movie at the wonderful and historic Castro theater here in San Francisco. The store carries quite a few cute and odd things, including a number of small hats like the one I am wearing in the picture below (they also had a cowboy hat and at least one other type that I can't remember now). I should add that it was entirely my idea that Jim and I should start trying these hats on, and that we should save them for posterity's sake by photographing ourselves wearing them. I am not trying to take away anything from my friend by saying this; I do this only to point out here that I tend to be more silly than the small group of friends that I have.
   If I was nothing but fun-loving, humorous and of good spirits, I would not be writing this blog piece, but I most certainly am not, and often times alternate between being nervous, angry, sad or depressed. During these times, I am usually anything but fun, and humor and silliness are far from my mind.
   I often think about these aspects of myself because they seem so far apart in spirit, and sometimes when I am feeling very happy and humorous, it occurs to me that I may be somewhat bipolar. It just seems like maybe my ups and downs are too dichotomous.
   There are plenty of times of course when I feel happy but not ecstatic, but it doesn't seem to be too often that I feel only somewhat down; these times don't seem to register and stay with me the way that the more animated emotions do, and I probably pay a lot more attention to the negative readings than the positive ones. I know all of this in a rational way when I think about it and the experiences that I've had, but it's certainly not something that I usually consider.
   Besides thinking of myself as bipolar in my extremes, I sometimes wonder if it's not just that I can sometimes just be truly happy; that this part of me is as real and genuine as the darker one, and that they coexist inside of me peacefully. I hope that this idea is a true one, even if I don't feel as peaceful as much as I would like to.

Mr. Silly Head

Making one's own way

  I took this picture outside the side employee entrance to my job. I see many beetles slowly moving in this area, particularly during the warmer months, and recently, have been seeing quick glimpses of quite a few mice as well (their many holes in the ground are much more visible than the creatures themselves are). All these animals help me to prepare for the work day ahead, as I find myself dreading entering my job at times. I find looking at the beetles particularly helpful because their small size forces me to look at them closely and intently, helping to free me from the negative and cynical ideas which can flood my mind quickly and pervasively.
   The beetles long trek across the concrete path that you see below is particularly moving for me, as they slowly make their way in a world which would seem like a terrifying world of giants if I was their size.

My hero