Sometimes I just use this blog to store photos. One of these days (my dad’s favorite saying) I’ll not be able to hike. I’ll be in a recliner, feet up, something cold to drink, and I’ll go through all these entries.
I had NO idea that this would become what it has become. I am a better writer. Still not anything special, but better. Once in a while something good comes out. Really pretty good. When that happens, it’s never forced. It just leaves me and lives on the pages. So cool.
When that happens, its not me writing, or maybe it’s just a different me. Maybe a Spiritual me. I never judge those posts. They are right. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. They are right.
Maybe that is what it means to be authentic. Not influenced consciously. I’m sure I steal stuff from other writers or things I have read or heard, but they have become mine. I never thought of myself as an artist, but what I just described is art. My process. Sometimes I can paint that way as well. I can play music. I’ve written songs. They come the same way, too.
There is a workbook called “The Artist’s Way.” If this subject interests you, pick that book up and try it on. You may find the artist in you, too. I think it may be the part of me that I like the most. It’s been there and I have been acting on it all my life. I just didn’t know it.
Where did that come from? See. It just happens. I only meant to post some photos here. So I guess I still will.
This isn’t one of those good ones, BTW. 😂
A.I.
I’m going to pick some out and see about a compilation of the ones I love. Why not? it won’t be a book. Just a bunch of essays. Essays on life as I see it. I’ll get my kids to help me. This will be fun. 🙂
Gray In The Woods 
Nice looking snake, and good to see both of you make your way safely off of the road:)
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Was that a freaking rattlesnake?!
Sent from my iPhone
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Timber Rattler!
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I believe all humans are artists. As with all things human, we are unique; hence, how we express our creativity varies. Some of us are damaged or disparage as children. Perfection is the enemy of art. False praise is the enemy of art. My greatest gifts from my parents: freedom for expression, access to normal and abnormal materials, joy in failure, making do with what we had. Especially failure. The only way to get there is not let the goofs make you stop. Your writing is better because you write. Your photos are better because you see better because you pause to see. Maybe your goal is not what you think is. Maybe we are all velveteen rabbits. I quit something I’m good at today. Still not sure why. Maybe it’s to give me a chance to do something new; badly at first. 💜
Sent from my iPad – no extra charge for the typos.
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I’ve learnt quite a bit from that rabbit. And from you, you know. Thanks for caring pal. ❤️
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You write good.
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I wish my parents had praised me less. Actually, I’m just glad they were there. My dad’s best gift was teach us boys to not quit. My mom gave me the courage to be different. She was fearless that way and such a chicken in so many others. It is so good to be responsible for me. My parents taught me to lie. Also denial. I don’t really want to see myself any clearer than I do. I don’t have any idea what I’m talking about now.
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Between you and me, YOU are the writer my dear. “Between you and me,” get it?
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If you are thinking between you and I is correct…. Nope. Or, I’m not sure what you mean. I need to get a pen back in my hand. Spending too much time with the internet time suck….but it can be sooo interesting.
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I meant like “Between You and Me” like a secret or literally between you and me. But that one should be “I” right?
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