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“I have perceived that in all cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fire-side, the country.”
Herman Melville, Moby Dick
November 30, 2018

November 30, 2018 007 Beacon, NY

Something about the very symmetrical shape of this tree caught my eye. The silhouette against the sky. No branches missing. Wouldn't it be grand if it were covered in lights and decorations? People would come to see it.

November 30, 2018 004 Beacon, NY

We are repaving streets all over Beacon. It's long overdue. We thought they would pave the street in front of our house this summer, but they stopped at the block before us. We really wanted them to. We hoped it would fix a longstanding defect of our driveway causing our car to catch it's nose on the pavement almost every time we pull in our out. Not this time. Maybe next year.
9:50 PM - My Studio
"Hi, How Are You?"
Daniel Johnston
We watched "Before Sunrise," another Richard Linklater movie recommended by my niece. The story of a French girl and American boy who meet on the train and spend one day in Vienna before they go on their separate ways. A very sweet and somewhat melancholy movie. Of course they fall in love. They part promising to meet again in the same spot in six months. We don't know if they will or not, but there are two sequels, so perhaps.
At the end, in the music credits, one of the last songs is a Daniel Johnston song. The song turned out to be the one being sung during the rolling of the credits.
I was excited by the discovery. I texted my niece and recommended she watch "The Devil and Daniel Johnston," which I think she will like. I told her it was obscurely connected to one of the two movies I had watched that she recommended.
My first encounter with Daniel Johnston was through the song "Story of an Artist," which frequently played on a music stream I listened to. It's about being an artist when the people around you don't understand your vision. Very poignant.
8:23 AM - Ella’s Bellas, Beacon, NY
I officially launched this website this morning. I am very excited. I will save money and it works better with what I want to present. Win-win as they say.
It is as if the dam has burst. I am freely creating and I know what I will do next, and next and next. There is now a kind of assembly line set up, which, if I stick with it, will finally render the kind of diaristic production I have been wanting to make and share.
A man up front in overcoat, short in stature, stocky, answers an unheard by me question. “Not bad, living the dream!” This is said in a way that probably means anything but. My heart aches hearing it. I hope I am wrong.
The first woman of an older woman’s coffee clutch that meets on Fridays is here. She is the advanced guard, claiming and arranging tables. In a little while, four or five more women will join her. They talk noisily and animatedly. I will leave when they are in full swing. I am easily distracted.
November 29, 2018

November 29, 2018 053 Beacon, NY

Milkweed seeds ready to be blown across the landscape. I love these plants. I honor them wherever I find them in the landscape. In particular the pods of seeds are lovely, wild and crazy. Monarch Butterflies depend on them. It is the only plant their larva can eat and survive.

November 29, 2018 052 Beacon, NY

"A man should never gamble more than he can stand to lose."
David Bromberg
Lovely ballad playing on the house system in Bigmouth Coffee Roasters this morning. Not that it is relevant to my life. I don't think I have gambled in the sense being talked about here. But I appreciate the sentiments in it. I can hear the pain.
I took Ziggy cat to the vet yesterday. He's an old cat. He's been having problems with infections. He's all skin and bones. We've had to repeatedly give him antibiotics. He jumps in our laps at night and snuggles. I can tell he needs a little warmth and comfort. The news from the vet was good. She felt the latest infection was looking good. His weight was up, his blood pressure was down (we've been treating it). It was all good. He'll be with us a little longer.
For months I have been stuck in my photographic creative process. Making pictures but not knowing what for. Not wanting to submit them, not knowing what, if anything they are adding up to. Creating this new website seems to have changed all that. It seems to have given me a way to express my process, my thinking. Honest, straight up. I am feeling very happy about that.
November 28, 2018

November 28, 2018 016 Beacon, NY

November 28, 2018 005 Beacon, NY

I have become fascinated with the utility poles and wires around town. I used to think they were a nuisance. Maybe they still are, especially when I think I would have liked an uninterrupted view of the sky or landscape. I am starting to think they are beautiful in their own way. They are a bit amazing too. Coming together in complex hubs of power and signal distribution from the grids to the buildings surrounding. Connecting everything together. Enabling us to talk to one another. Enabling me to post to this website.
I have been in neighborhoods where they bury them underground. I miss them then.
When I set out for my walk this morning, I again felt happy to be here, happy to be walking, happy to be making pictures. Strangely, these past many days of happy walking have not led to more better pictures. Possibly fewer. There are always ups and downs. There are usually one or two days a month when I am on fire. I have felt like I am in tune, open, ready to see. And yet, for some of these days I wasn’t sure I had good pictures to post.
I am reading Daring Greatly. I read this:
“Joy comes to us in moments — ordinary moments. We risk missing out on joy when we get too busy chasing down the extraordinary.”
This is, it seems to me, another way to say “pay attention to the attainable felicities.”
This is what my mornings have been feeling like. Attainable felicities. Ordinary moments in which I just feel good participating, being alive, witnessing.
November 27, 2018

November 27, 2018 035 Beacon, NY

November 27, 2018 010b Beacon, NY

Starlings. In great numbers. They are always more visible in the winter. They congregate and big groups of them take turns diving off into the air, circling about, and coming back to roost. I love watching them.
We watched the movie Boyhood last night. It was written and directed by Richard Linklatter. My niece recommended it. I told her I liked stories that were “slice of life.” She is making an effort to connect.
Boyhood follows a family, centering on the son, from the son’s childhood through to his departure for college. It took twelve years to make and the same actors were used throughout.
I fell asleep for some of it and wondered when it would end at other points, but it has stuck with me. Most movies I watch don’t do that. 
It is confirmation to me that you can create over a stretch of time and that what you create can be about things that seem or are banal, and yet, something more happens. That is what I am trying to do here, in this space.
The prevalent mode of telling stories in our society is through distillation and intensification. We want them to be epic. We want big, cathartic moments and complete resolutions, hopefully good.
Life isn’t like that.
Towards the end, as the boy is getting ready to leave for college, his mother realizes her nest is emptying. She does a quick review of the salient features of her life, breaks down in tears and tells her son, “I thought there would be more.”
There, of course, has been more, the attainable felicities.
I have to work hard sometimes at not thinking there should be more. I have to work at appreciating what I have.
My journal making process is an attainable felicity. I like doing it. I like what I produce. I don’t get bored.
November 26, 2018

November 26, 2018 012 Beacon, NY

November 26, 2018 007 Beacon, NY

I feel warm, fuzzy and happy this morning. Four good days of family and friends.
My cousin visited yesterday. We had a good time. We made a turkey, some wild rice and mushroom soup, roasted Brussels sprouts, stuffing, sweet potato in orange cups. We drank some wine, talked and laughed. It was good.
We caught up on her latest travels and the progress of her divorce. She has sought us out since filing for the divorce. She says her husband kept her from her family and she wants to reconnect. We are glad she is.
It sounds as though we fired teargas at people south of the Mexican border yesterday. I don’t know the circumstances but I am sure it will play well in a Trumpian twitter narrative that we did.
I am happy to be getting back to the work this week.
I am wondering about the commitment this writing and photo journal represents. I am wondering if I will be able to sustain it. I have been circling around this artistic production concept from almost the beginning. Making pictures every day is at the core of it. Writing in my journal too. It is a substantial daily discipline. Six to eight hours daily, sometimes more. But why not? Why isn’t this a way of going about making something meaningful? I won’t be the first artist to create work through a daily discipline. Day by day. Week by week. Month by month. Year by year. Witness, contemplate, report, repeat.
November 25, 2018

November 25, 2018 040 Beacon, NY

November 25, 2018 038 Beacon, NY

I am feeling happy today. It is gray, but not cold. It is wet from all the rain we had last night. I am surprised Fishkill Creek is not higher.
The pains in my left arm have not gone away, but the doctor tells me they are mechanical. Repetitive stress. She suggests braces while working on the computer and physical therapy.
Thanksgiving weekend has been terrific, filled with attainable felicity. We ate with friends on Thursday. We visited my sister-in-law’s family on Friday and my brother-in-law’s family on Saturday. Today we will stay home and cook our own turkey. My cousin is coming to diner.
There was one bump in the road yesterday morning. I accidentally took one of Augie dog’s heart medications. I lined up my blood pressure pills and vitamins and his pills in a row on the counter. I started taking mine and didn’t stop when I reached his. Holly called poison control to see if we needed to worry. The particular combination of meds suggested going to the emergency room would be prudent. So we did. Three hours later they discharged me. Nothing happened.
Once I knew I was in the clear I posted the incident on Facebook. So many dog jokes! We all had a good chuckle.
Driving back from my brother-in-law’s house yesterday was a little nerve racking. We knew it was going to rain heavily eventually. We left in time to beat the worst of it, but I was still worried about the possibility of freezing rain. The temperature was predicted to be in the upper 30’s to lower 40’s down low. I84 passes over mountains between Connecticut and New Jersey. They aren’t tall mountains, but perhaps enough to get to freezing? The general rule of thumb is a 3.5 degree temperature drop for every 1000 feet, microclimates not withstanding.
As we were driving over the mountains we passed a salt truck. I was not the only one worried about freezing rain in the higher elevations.
I find it gratifying to correctly anticipate cause and effect in that way. This leads me to thoughts about whether we have free will. I read and think about this subject a lot. In this case, I was clearly able to anticipate conditions based on knowledge about how things work and be prepared for them. Does planning and making choices in response to expectations about future conditions constitute free will? The reading I have done on this subject, which is not exhaustive, suggests no. My thinking and planning is in service of my self preservation instinct. Thinking and planning is a tool. It serves me well, but does not mean I make my basic choices consciously. Problem solving is in the service of self preservation.
November 23, 2018

November 23, 2018 045 Beacon, NY

November 23, 2018 026 Beacon, NY

The prevailing winds today are shame, fear and anger.
November 22, 2018

November 22, 2018 014 Beacon, NY

November 22, 2018 012 Beacon, NY

"From goulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night
Good Lord, deliver us!"
Thanksgiving Day
I am thinking about fear.
I have pains in my left arm and imagine the worst. 
I try to eat and drink fear into submission. The relief is temporary.
I welcome sleep. The pains and fear don't follow me there.
I share my fear with Holly. She reassures me.
I make an appointment with my doctor. 
I need a story of cause and effect, told by an authority I believe in, which doesn't end with the end of me.
I wait for the appointment to arrive fearing she won't have one. 
Absent a countervailing story, I am susceptible in the extreme to worst case scenarios and grotesque distortions of what is.
As I wait, my fear rampages around and I think how exquisitely powerful and irrational fear is.
There are good survival instinct explanations for this, but it so often seems counterproductive and debilitating in civilizations advanced beyond hunting and gathering. Yet, we are never more than moments and inches away from chaos.
Near universal susceptibility to a fear of personal or societal chaos makes people easy to manipulate. Stories of horrible specters spread swiftly. In this way, people are frothed into fearing and loathing what they don't know. 
"They are murderers and rapists and some, I imagine, are good people." 
Bump, bump, bump.
From my own fear grappling, I learn how crucial it is to be surrounded by family, friends and sources of information that keep us from the grotesque distortions of our fears.
November 21, 2018

November 21, 2018 030 Beacon, NY

November 21, 2018 012 Beacon, NY

As I walked this morning I thought more about the idea of intensification. When we observe and then craft a way of sharing what we observe and what we think about our observations, we are always distilling. We are always trying to report out only the salient features of the landscape we have experienced.
I tried, as I developed this idea about intensification, to think that one could report out without intensifying. I thought that might be the goal. To find a way to present the universe as I experience it.
My thinking was that distillation creates a super reality. We are reporting out what we experience, but we risk loosing touch with the reality we are trying to describe and share. We risk creating an illusory world we don't really live in.
I thought this journal might be an example of not intensifying, but as I think through my process, I realize, it is very distilled. The act of making a photograph in and of itself is distilled from the beginning. What is included in the frame. What isn't. And then pictures are sorted through, many are discarded. A distilled set is then edited to intensify the individual presence of each photograph. More are discarded. One, usually two, are shared here. 
Very distilled. 
It's the same with the words. Begun as stream of consciousness, then distilled, refined, intensified and only a few chosen to share.
So, intensification is the process of describing the salient features of our lives and our thinking to one another. This is how it has to be. If we were to attempt to relate every mundane detail, every passing thought, to our family, friends and community, we'd be asking them to live our life, not theirs. 
November 20, 2018

November 20, 2018 016 Beacon, NY

"Once you realize that your self-worth is hitched to what you've produced and created, it's unlikely that you will share it, or, if you do, you'll strip away a layer or two of the juiciest creativity and innovation to make it less risky. There's too much on the line to put your wildest creations out there."
From Daring Greatly, Brené Brown
As I read these words, I think about what I might be stripping away. What I might be holding back. My friend Steve has encouraged me to keep going with this new approach to presenting my photographic and written work, but he also warned me that some in the photographic arts community might think it inappropriate for an artist's portfolio site.
I head down this trail having realized that this journal is my art. It is exactly what I do. I go out almost every day. I make pictures almost every day. I write almost every day. This is the art.
I have all kinds of fears about it. Will anyone look at it? Will anyone take the time to read it? Will it be of value to anyone but me? Does it matter?
The answer to the first two questions is "some people will." The answer to the third question is "I don't know." The answer to the last question is "no." Whether people look and what people think that is. The work itself matters to me and that is all that does matter. I have spent thousands of hours developing it. I will keep working on it until I can't anymore.
A musical composition by La Monte Young comes to mind. The Well Tuned Piano. The piece lasts five to six hours. Who will listen to it all the way through, let alone connect all the compositional ideas? It doesn't matter. He has made it anyway, and by all accounts, it's a masterpiece.
November 19, 2018

November 19, 2018 019 Beacon, NY

November 19, 2018 019 Beacon, NY

“Attainable felicity,” the wife, the home, the dogs, the cat, the friends, the town, the walking, the making of pictures, the writing. I am paraphrasing.
It is a contradiction that I love the idea of "attainable felicity" from Moby Dick. It is a truth that is in opposition to my actions. The things that will make me happy are the things close at hand Melville tells us. My actions are pointed at fame, thus immortality, which is not, generally speaking, felicity that is attainable. I go on making the work and sharing it anyway.
Why? Because making it is felicity for me. I like the comfort of having a routine. I like making pictures and thinking how good they are, even if they aren’t very much noticed. I like doing all these things, and what is wrong with hoping that someone, some many, might appreciate them? I am I said. Look, over here, I am I said.
November 18, 2018

November 18, 2018 058 Beacon, NY

Only one image today. A dead fish lying at the bottom of a pool of water. It didn't seem right to give it a companion. Death is serious and deserves a room of its own.
I won’t call it a beautiful day. A little cold. A little gray. But I had a beautiful walk. I did the road loop that runs by Madame Brett Factory Park. It was peaceful. A hawk was on patrol, periodically screeching. Calling to its mate? Calling for a mate? Do they mate in the winter?
One of the baristas is talking about her long term boyfriend. They’ve been together six years. They buy houses together. I wonder how they work out the property ownership in case they split up one day?
November 17, 2018

November 17, 2018 085 Beacon, NY

This is a hole in a plate glass window. My first guess at what caused it would be a BB or small round pebble that got kicked up by a passing car. It might have been intentional. It might have been accidental. It is random, whatever the cause. That aspect of the universe fascinates me. The plate glass window is very intentional. Carefully manufactured. The hole in it is not. Both are cosmic phenomena. 

November 17, 2018 009 Beacon, NY

The street that runs in front of our house was recently repaved. This is a curved mark left by the rolling machine that flattens and compresses it. Just a randomly occurring detail with me, stopping to make a picture.
I have been thinking about intensification. When writers write, when artists make, when photographers compose pictures, there is always the idea that the experience should be intensified. It is made compelling by distilling it down to a potent, concentrated essence.
Can I access the profound through the ordinary, un-intensified, daily dull and boring that surrounds me? Can I do a kind of deadpan banal take on the world and have it add up to something more?
My job, every day, is to go out and witness. I walk, I make pictures, I retreat to a cafe and write what comes to mind. Some of it is of interest, most of it is stream of conscious nothingness, like water in a stream flowing by. My challenge to myself is to develop a creative stream that becomes a little more than random drivel, but does not go the full distance to intensification. Does not have a beginning, middle and end.
November 15, 2018

November 15, 2018 053 Beacon, NY

November 15, 2018 038 Beacon, NY

I am listening to Bach Cello Suites as I post this picture. Seems like the perfect soundtrack to the feelings the image invokes in me.
Donald Trump. Robert Mueller. Where is Mueller? I keep waiting for shoes to drop. I wonder if Whittaker has made moves. If he is disrupting the Mueller process. Jeff Flake refusing to pass judges out of committee and refusing to vote for judges already passed out of committee unless Mitch McConnel brings to the floor a vote on protecting Mueller. Why would he not want that? Perhaps because he knows there are problems. Perhaps he knows that and if Mueller is protected the President will be undone and that will be the end of his ability to do things. To install judges. 
Mitch McConnel. One hopes there is a hell and one hopes that he is destined for it. That is, when people make you angry, you hope that there is a hell for them to burn in because you can’t do it yourself. No, I don’t have the power to make anyone’s life a living hell, so I hope for something I don’t believe in just so I can have a place for the anger to go.
Is that one of the natures of belief, that there is a higher power that will smite your enemies on your behalf because you don’t have the power to do it yourself? And there is a higher power who will bring rewards to you, at some point, because you are unable to bring them to yourself?
November 14, 2018

November 14, 2018 083 Beacon, NY

I am developing a series of people from behind. It is the only way I can photograph people right now. Unless it is my wife or family members. I am shy. I am not willing to ask people if I can take their photograph. So I shoot them surreptitiously from behind.

November 14, 2018 019 Beacon, NY

Man with three dogs comes in for his coffee. Talks about being Ben Hur, dog drawn.
Man gets coffee and leaves. So dogs can come in here. Good to know. Chas will like that. Actually, I think Holly has brought Chas here before.
This political moment. Wow. Could it get any more bizarre and disturbing. Conservative white men running the show. Trying not to loose the power. This is sending us to some dangerous places.
Suffragette City (is that the name of the song?) playing on the sound system. David Bowie. Holly is a huge fan. She would be happy in this moment.
It is cold in here. Feeling the cold getting to my skin, pricking through my flannel shirt sleeves.
A stylish woman is writing in her journal a few tables away. Me too, I want to point that out to her, but I doubt she would care at all that we share that intention, that action. I wonder what she writes about? I wonder what she would think of making it into my journal? Into my thoughts? My consciousness?
Nothing. Nothing at all. She sits with her back turned. She has taken no notice of me. Why would she? I am way older than her. Ahh, but she is young and pretty, so I take notice of her.
November 12, 2018

November 12, 2018 033 Beacon, NY

I have an ongoing collection of these. I love that each one has gone from being mass produced to being utterly unique. They are like snowflakes, no two are the same. The complexity of forces that produced them makes that impossible. Unlike the can production line which is designed to make identical cans in great profusion. Designed to impose order on chaos. But humans inevitably return things to chaos as they consume and toss.

November 12, 2018 008 Beacon, NY

I was thinking I need to begin the procurement of Mushrooms for my Thanksgiving soup. I want to get a nice selection of dried mushrooms to mix in with the fresh. Just did a search. Morels and Chantarells seem to be available. This is going to be good.
It is so nice to be feeling so good today. I check the time to see if I need to get going. I don’t.
Just looked up the recipe for Shakshuka. Local restaurants serve it. I thought it would be nice to make it myself since we are cooking at home until our bank accounts start to have some money in them.
I love cooking. I really do. I love cooking for people. I can’t wait until our dining room is finished and we can have company over again.
A dad with toddler walking in my direction. Toddler taking off down the hallway. Dad follows. Wants to bring him back to where they will sit. Mom is here too. In red knit cap. Dad is a bearded dude with hair fairly short and combed over. Mom round face, almost like baby’s face. Dad slender. Mom too. Mom playing with baby’s arms, pumping them up and down. Dad in blue jeans, dark jacket, boots. Baby heading into the roasting room. Dad follows, watches, poised to intervene if needed, but lets the baby explore. Dad now introducing baby to the burlap bags of coffee beans. "Beans" he says, "beans." I wonder if baby will get the idea that the burlap bags themselves are something called beans? Baby does not seem too impressed.
November 11, 2018

November 11, 2018 107 Beacon, NY

November 11, 2018 101 Beacon, NY

A beautiful fall day. It felt so good to be out walking. It felt so good to be making pictures. There will be a lot to process on Monday.
I was a little late getting out. The sun was almost up above the mountain. No night shots. I also didn’t climb the mountain as I told myself I was going to do. Didn’t really feel like it.
I will work more on paneling the dining room today. I will use up the wood I have. I wonder if I have more in the garage?
I am slapping the typing keys and making so much noise that I wonder if it disturbs anyone. Nobody seems to be looking in my direction with irritation.
Quiet soulful music on the sound system.
I wonder what the barista does besides being the barista? Artist? She dresses very well and is quite pretty.
A young man in knit cap that I mistake for a man bun sits down a few tables away. It’s the dim light and the way the hat bunches together. I've been told that man buns are so yesterday. Don't see many of them around lately.
We watched two good movies last night. “Don’t Think Twice.” About an improv comic troupe. Sweet. Poignant. Also watched “I don’t feel at home in this world anymore." Both really good in different ways. The second a little violent but with purpose.
November 10, 2018

November 10, 2018 044 Beacon, NY

There has been a lot of rain lately. I love to freeze the action of the rapids in Fishkill Creek. It is beautiful.

November 10, 2018 042 Beacon, NY

Many pictures this morning. There will be a few good ones. There always are.
I wondered this morning if my pictures are getting boring. I’ve been in a black and white mood lately. I get like that. Color seems always to want to drain from the scene. I suppose I am being influenced by photographers I have been studying lately. Gerry JohannsonRobert Adams and Nathan Lyons. All black and white, all older than me. They represent an aesthetic that reaches back to the last century.
Make the work, something will come of it. It gives you a way to look at the world. It's your way of I am I said.
Death-screams from the music. It really isn’t very appropriate music for early Saturday morning. I wonder if the owner ever checks what’s going on in here?
I will work on installing trim and moldings in the dining room today. I wonder if I could finish it by Christmas? Have it ready for new flooring? It’s doable if we have enough money to purchase the materials. Animal healthcare has been chewing up our free spending money lately.
November 09, 2018

November 09, 2018 040 Beacon, NY

My wife often tells me I have no sense of humor. I do, it's just a bit dry and subtle. I post this image because of it's humor. I am appropriating the humor. Generally speaking, my photographs don't have much of their own.

November 09, 2018 008 Beacon, NY

I am feeling the need to reinvent. I am feeling the need to be more focused. I am feeling the need to develop the work then push it out there. Do what I believe in. Do the thing. What thing? I don’t know. The me thing.
November 08, 2018

November 08, 2018 039 Beacon, NY

It's not possible to read the text on the plaque, but this is the site of a WPA project completed during the great depression. It reads:
City of Beacon, Asylum Creek Project
This Brook was inclosed in 60” diameter 8 gauge Toncan Multiplate Pipe furnished by the Empire State Culvert Corporation. Installation was made in the spring of 1933 and labor for the relief of unemployment was used.
I am glad that people had work when they needed it. I wonder about the wisdom of burying a stream.

November 08, 2018 038 Beacon, NY

There was a horrific shooting in California, a country and western dance hall. I am wondering which side the perpetrating nut job is on, liberal or conservative? Or was he an unaffiliated nut job? We’ll see.
It seems a bunch of college students were shot up. Eleven dead. As many treated for injuries. I wonder what they will do to curb gun ownership? It’s a pretty liberal state and often leads the way.
Jeff Sessions fired yesterday. Or rather, asked to submit his resignation. He should have forced Trump to fire him. The resignation letter gives cover.
November 07, 2018

November 07, 2018 010 Beacon, NY

November 07, 2018 010 Beacon, NY

The day after the elections. It looks like the pollsters had it mostly right this time. The House flipped. The Senate got a little more conservative. An unprecedented number of women and minorities were elected to public office. That is the most significant thing to me. All those women especially. It’s an awesome thing.
I climbed the stairs to Mt. Beacon this morning. Haven’t done that in a while. It was pretty easy. And already I have almost 8K steps, which means I will make 10K and should probably shoot for 15K.
November 05, 2018

November 05, 2018 #042 Beacon, NY

November 05, 2018 #020 Beacon, NY

Health insurance check mailed. Whew, that is off my mind. Don’t want to loose the health insurance. May need it. Will certainly need it.
Fishkill Creek raging this morning. I was surprised. I hadn’t realized that we got so much rain. There must have been more somewhere upstream. There will be more rain today and tomorrow, so I don’t think the creek has crested.
As I was watching the water rush by, I had a big urge to pee. The power of suggestion. Interesting.
I downloaded a recipe for oven baked polenta and mushrooms. I think I will make it tonight along with some kind of tasty meat. Maybe some lamb.
From my reading this morning:
Connection is why we’re here. We are hardwired to connect with others, it’s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it there is suffering.
Brene’ Brown, Daring Greatly​​​​​​​
November 01, 2018

November 01, 2018 019 Beacon, NY

November 01, 2018 003 Beacon, NY

I wrote this on FB this morning:
Well, I inhaled Anne Lamott’s Almost Everything. I think that is the right description. Inhaled. It seems like only a couple of days since I downloaded and started reading. Almost a week actually. I think it is a good antidote to the pervasive anxiety we all feel all the time. The base condition of living is anxiety.
We are afraid of everything it often seems. Most fundamentally, we are afraid of dying, but that’s just something we all have to do at the end of whatever are our days.
Finding moments of grace and hope are what make it bearable and those moments of grace and hope are usually nestled quite close to us, we only have to look and open ourselves up to them. 
As Herman Melville put it in Moby Dick:
“I have perceived that in all cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fire-side, the country.”
This is a good summary of what my photography is about. It is about finding the moments of grace that are close at hand in my immediate surroundings. Most of the time, the grace comes down to a particular little thing I noticed. That's all.
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