To 'Feng Shui' Life

If only we could organize life into simple black and white boxes, neatly and cleanly label everything with sticky tags and a sharpie marker, and alas see the vast world slimmed down by the angles and corners of this system. Now, back to reality where life seems to be a mess like that of a malt that has found itself the victim of a blender with no lid.

We don't know what to make of the mess that lies before us. It's stressful, and plagues us when we drive behind red lights, sit watching the clock till five, and lay with moonlight upon us. There are times that I walk outside and actually stare up at the sky. At that moment I am again amazed at what surrounds me. I remember that life is more than bills upon a messy desk, debt upon a card, or the vague depression due to this pursuit of happiness. I breathe and feel it. It feels like oxygen to new lungs again. The sky, it's there again, and it's beautiful.

Here in the Northwest we tend towards a granola type of life. Mountains, birds, hikes and the camping lifestyle. 'I'll load up the jeep with the gear while you pack fruit and yogurt, oh, and don't forget that granola.' We end up surrounded by beauty and feel a sense a relief like, 'everything's going to be alright, after all.' But, for some reason it doesn't seem to last once we hit the five o' clock after our spiritual enlightenment.

I'd like to find some way to remember, to not be running late, and spend my last five minutes before work just staring at the sky, and remembering 'everything's going to be alright, after all.' Father, make the air taste sweet again. Let me awake each day like I've just fought my way from the bottom of a lake and survived death. That air would taste good.

A New Site On the Board

Independent Lens, a new site I just threw up after watching one of its amazing documentaries on a Chinese blue jeans factory. It was a lower budget documentary, but showed a sad side of the booming economy of China, and how the western world is contributing towards the mistreatment of the migrant workers.

To watch it is to see where America was during the industrial revolution, causing feelings of our naive state and somewhat hypocritical standings to come about. Another form of Guantanamo, so to speak.

I try to stay away from wearing a heart on my sleeve, and seek action with the hope that they speak loudly enough. We are often a generous people, and I believe that the majority of us would be willing to help if we knew how. We do try to help while maintaining our current lifestyle, which may eventually cause a problem as sacrifice does not allow such a thing, but I prefer at the moment to focus my life to saying how can we make it easier and more accessible for people to become involved?

I hope to find some solutions to this question.

Thoughts While Watching "The Interpreter"

It is now that the feelings of travel begin to creep in again, assuring me that somewhere in my life there remains a place for some working of international travel. As I tell everyone, "It gets in your blood." Nearing the end of a time in another country you always look forward to home and the flavor of the place that you grew up in. The mountains again, the clean air, fresh coffee, good tobacco, family and friends, and all that entitles that word home. The definition is different for us all, but it's how we would describe comfort.

There are some that come off from world travel with a change of world view, and that helps them in shaping their lives back home. It helps give some definition of the calling on their lives. I come back and feel more secure in the position that I took that I would be more involved in the future with traversing this world. Photography will be one of my assets, but I hope to gain more.

Somehow I'll be stretched from this continent to others, finding myself in many new doorways.