Extra Extra, Drink All About it

I never change, never change, the lyrics once again speak true.  I'm under a deadline of self imposed importance which is the easiest and worse kind of deadline to break.  once again I suspect that I'm about to let myself down.  It is already nearing the end of February according to the calendar.  Yet hope rings true, suddenly I realize it's a leap year, I've been blessed with one extra day to make everything right.

opening a bottle of Caymus Special Select, I pause to reflect on the blessing of one more day.  Suddenly discovering an extra day opens a new world of thinking.  having recently been confronted by the death of friends friends, I'm been wondering about the meaning of my own mortality.  not usually a topic I dwell on, death, it struck me that suddenly I've seemingly been granted an extra day in life.  taking a sip of my wine, I begin to ponder how to spend the day.

if we could be free of everything that needs to be done, guiltless of who we should share that day with, aware that this fictional day is extra how; I wonder how I would choose to use such a day.  not to meet some deadline I realize, that needs to be dealt with first.  And being that this not so fictional extra day is in february I know exactly what I want to do with it, so I need to get stuff done so the coming wednesday can be guilt free.  taking another sip I put down the wine in favor of a pen.  I have work to get done, on the 29th we ride

Taking It All In - Face Value

"Welcome to the Doll House," I said opening the cabin's front door, revealing the party.
I watched her eyes as she scanned the participants of tonight's gathering.  a couple pretty young things giggled as they pushed their way past us traveling out into the starlit night.  "wanna join us?" a brunette with a wicked smile shot back over her shoulder.  "perhaps later, I just arrived." I responded as we walk the opposite direction, entering into the parties center.

"are things like them why they call it the doll house?" my night's companion asked.

looking at her lips I replied, "it's actually Dahl, in reference to my buddies last name."
she smiled.  you can learn a lot watching someone's face, especially when you bring a city girl to a mountain party.  Usually I can get a sense of how the evening is going to go by watching first reactions to my crazy ski/snowboard friends.  Tonight's lady however, was an interesting read.  as I studied her face all I could gather is her awareness to the many faces around her.  the looks in the crowd were a much clearer read on their faces.  ranging from "is she good enough for him" to "who's this bitch he's f'n now" made up the spectrum of thoughts visible among the women.  for the most part the men gave their default stare; fresh meat, I outta see about this girl.  as always the faces of my close friends were much more inviting.

dropping the shot ski from the three of their lips, expressions on their faces came more clearly into view.  "who's the new hot lady" the first of my buddies inquired.  "You mean who's tonight's arm candy?" my second buddy added. hoping to stop them before things were out of my control I broke in, "unfair, I often enjoy roll'n solo." but already a few drinks in my friends weren't going to allow me to take back control of the introductions easily. "WHEN do you roll solo?" my gurl, the third of my three friends broke back. "you love having some sweet thing to toy with all night."

knowing it was my face now being studied  all I could do was turn to my partner and smile.
"don't worry," my buddy urged her.  seemingly coming to my defense, "in general, that puts you in a pretty attractive group."  laughing as he gave me a loving bump, my other buddy added, "is that a group or a harem that you are meaning to refer to?"  "I said nothing about exclusive, I was just complementing the lady on her looks," the first buddy responded.  keeping things real my gurl was compelled to add, "he wishes it was a harem, rather than just list of failed lays."  the chorus of all three now laughing.

I offered that she enjoy herself for a moment while I find us a couple glasses of wine.  the adorable look on her sexy face said it all, getting to know her was going to be more than just a one night thing.  as I departed in search of something special for us to drink, more laughter took over the expression on their faces.  she was in good hands.  enough studying of faces, I was off to the cellar to study labels.

Reflections on a Long Walk Home

I've come to believe that we are reflections of the company we keep.  the people we choose to take on as friends says much about who we are as a person.  taking on their energy and share ours with them, it impacts the world, for good or for ill.  thus, you can learn much about a person by getting to know their inner circle.  of course, I probably believe that because the only people on the planet I admire more than myself are my friends.

these days I am seldom surprised by the many things my circle of friends are able to accomplish.  While I continue to bum though life, learning to share the richness of the story that unfolds, my friends live inspired lives that help me find the joy in living.

Following the premier of the movie about his life, a friend of mine decided the best way to stay humble and true to his story was to walk home.  over the next three days he'll hike and ride from paradise on mt. Rainier back to Crystal mt and his home in greenwater.  meanwhile another friend juggles, full-time school, full-time work and part-time snowboard instructing, all so that she can carve our time for the important things in life, living a spirit life of joyful free-time.  they might be brief, but when the opportunity presents itself she gets after it.

It's not all rainbows and unicorns however in the lives of my friends.  pain and tragedy as of late is no stranger.  Having just lost a very special girlfriend to cancer, the grace by which my buddy is dealing with such lose is a powerful thing to witness.  I've fallen hard in the past and I watch as others I know fall even harder. It is easy to allow negatives in life to pull us down.  But to stand in the face of that fear, to be strong while at the same time be open taking help as it is offered, to be aware that it is okay to be vulnerable so that healing can occur, that is a powerful lesson.

I see these friends in good times and bad and they also see me.  through it all I continue to vibe with these people because in my heart I know, we all are just doing our best to pour love into the world around us.  That is a reflection I'm happy to see look back at me from the mirror.

Who's Sexy Sexy - Enjoy the Tempranillo & I'll Tell You

the bounce is back, the dude is back, got my swagger back, sexy sexy deal with it...

in the city again dealing with all the drama. up in the mountains things have been simpler. staying warm, surviving, understanding joy and discovering the depths of love; these are the things that consume our daily life. down here in the city life is easier but living is so much more complex. everything I could ever want is within reach, yet so much junk is in the way. disconnected from the world the city seemingly consumes the soul. people think of self before considering the "us" in each other.

I can feel the energy shift as the drama rises. grabbing a bottle of tempranillo I head off to dinner. my hope is that the earthy notes of this Washington grown wine will ease the burdens of a city day. we drink in the juicy notes of red fruit and savory the long finish.  paired with a home cooked vegetarian meal the energy around the dinner table is good. Drama swirls around us but life rolls on in our comforting little bubble. Friends, real friends, people that care for people, they can keep you sane in the insanity of the city.

finding what I need, this time is the city has come to its conclusion. change clothes, yeah uh, sexy sexy, turn your radio up. I drive back to the hill

Awake the Muse

she's whispering in my ear so I wake. I've been in a fog, walking an uninspired yet charmed life. around me so much wonder needing to be told. lately though, I haven't been bold enough to tell it. instead I float, life slides by around me.

behind me she walks past out of view. her hand glides across my back from shoulder to shoulder letting me know she is near. I'm warmed by her touch. glancing over me shoulder I hope to see her, wanting to meet her with a smile. in my mind I can hear her giggle, I can see her dance. I love to watch her body move.

her music plays in the background as I finally get myself to work. focus, write, focus write, focus write... instead I continue to dream. where will thoughts of my muse guide me next.

The Grand Transition

it's been a daze for how many days I do not know. writing hasn't happened but the story has moved in so many ways that the end sounds as if it might be near; at least for this tale. surley more are to come but as the sunsets, this chapter moves into a new year.  back to reality, 2012 begins.

Feed the Beast

he's a hungry little bugger. promise a kid a couple skittles and it's amazing the tasks he'll perform, at least this kid. We are skiing, and as an instructor I've always hated handing out gummy bears during my lessons. when kids would ask me for some my reply would always be "sure, if we can find out which one of you is holding." That usually shuts the little beggar up right away. no kids wants to have their private stash revealed to the others.

meanwhile, this little one in front of me appears to be a different beast altogether. Younger and younger parents are pushing their kids into ski lessons. most kids under five lack much of the muscle development needed to ski, sure their are always exceptions but even those kids often lack the attention span to keep their little body warm on a cold day. That said, our mountain allows four year old into the program. I've heard of other places that will go as low as three. Of course, with a signed injury waiver and for a price, I got roped into teaching an Almost three year old. I will say, what he lacked in muscle he made up for in balance. But he was a hungry little bugger.

meltdown after meltdown lead to the realization that all this kids really needs is more fuel. the parent wants to see them ski and I can put up with sliding this kid all day as long the kid can hold it together. looking in my pockets for an answer, remnants of the last hawks game provided my solution. Thank you skittles. sugar goes a long way when attempting to sooth a savage beast, so I feed it.

For a brief moment I felt guilty about pumping this guys kid full of sugar just so he could make it through the two hour lesson. However, when the dad handed me the tip, guilty washed away as my intention turned to the wine I'd soon be purchasing. Feed this beast a little wine and it's amazing what he'll get into.

99 Percent Magic and a Bottle of Wine

"wake up to this all and announce, where are the writers of this generation?"

this is my post on facebook tonight. I cast a spell to wake people in the morning. at least that is my hope. or perhaps we really are alone, a nation without voice. these are tough times so, I know there are stories out there. Tough stories, tragedies, lots of dramas. I know this because I'm feeling them, My friends are all living them. It's hard, I know. But there is hope in some in these stories, a little love too. Those are the tales that need to be told.

99 percent of the nation I'm told. all but one percent of us have something that needs to be heard, so tell it. Scream it if you have to, just don't cause a riot, and please clean-up any mess you make. Heck just be respectful, if not to yourself to the process. For centuries people have managed to share the stories of their time. stuff about what happened, how they got thru, the hopes and dreams that kept them going. So I cast my spell because I hope to hear them.

wake-up writers and show yourselves. 99 percent of us are in need of inspiration because we are getting screwed, or am I just drunk.

Create Your Own Joy

I'm a bottle of wine deep, ready to open another.  I'm by myself.  I'm alone with my thoughts.  Pen in hand, my thoughts flow from hand to paper while my intention is filled with friends, family and people all sharing my joy.  I am seeing the future I plan to experience, something I will write into existence...

a caravan of vehicle snakes up snow covered mountain road.  it's a clear night, we drive until a gleaming crescent moon. inside the various cars are friends and acquaintances in varying states of consciousness.  although we all are in different points in our lives, we share a common tread.  we are chasing the joy of snow.

life is not perfect, their is lingering discomfort between some of us.  Others of the group came to leave discomfort behind.  I am here chasing my discomfort.  I am here finding who I am, a writer.  I'm starting to accept that fact.  It is who I've always been but up til now I didn't want to believe my own story.

The cars slow as my anxiety grows.  we've arrived at our next ski destination.  We have time enough for a few winks of sleep.  however, before the sunrises we want to already be making our way to the lift line, first chair is a mindset embraced at any new location, even during questionable snow conditions.  I look forward to the ride.  after it will be time to share my book.  I am a writer now, it is what I do.  By understanding it, by embracing it, by becoming it, what I do allows me the freedom to experience what I love.

Back now from my vision, I sip the last of the juice in my glass.  the rich tannins linger on the tongue while notes of cherry and darkberry shape turns down the back of my throat.  I think about an epic powder run, the hopeful promise of any ski vacation.  (that is up to mother nature to decide.)  Those that choose to join me on this journey will experience it as a ski vacation.  I will know that is all it is.  but to justify our ambitions, to give permission to ourselves to take on this joy filled journey, we'll call it a book tour.

back to work, I write it into existence.  

The Gift of Giving and Giving Back

cyber monday firmly behind, the official season of consumption is upon us.  "what can I get you , what do you need?"   these questions seem to be awaiting me on everyone's lips.  I am humbled by those that care for me.  I am grateful to all of those that wish to make these rough times better.  Still, I believe they know, just as I do, no amount of stuff is going to fill the void I'm feeling in life. however, tis the season for giving gifts and having just had a birthday pass I understand the transformative power of a heart felt gift.  Thus, after a thoughtful bottle of wine, I've prepared to answer what you can give me this year.

it was the day before my birthday when the most significant present of years arrived in my life.  as a family we were in the process of moving my grandmother to a new home, so where she could receive better care.  the process turned up lots of great old memories, emotions and of course family history.  You never know what little trinket might make the difference and it all feels like junk when you realize it need to get organized and moved.  Yet, when that something special arrives in your hands you realize it is a blessing that this talisman had been saved,... for you.

"I thought you might like this," my father said handing me my grandfathers old dog-tags.  placing it in my head I suddenly moved to silence.  All I could muster was a quiet thank you.  My father returned to work while I found a still room in which I could cry.

I never met my grandfather.  War, having taken a toll on the men of his generation, he died before I was born.  Having been blessed with his name, I've felt his presence my entire life.  And knowing what he did, the hard work he did to bring his family to the United States in hopes of creating a better life, fighting as a guerrilla soldier during WWII and not only escaping the Batan Death March but saving another man's life in the process, I've always known my grandfather (my Lolo) as a hero.  A hero, who's strength runs through me if I'm wise enough to call on it.

Fitting then, when this birthday approached, I was feeling at my lowest, his dog-tag arrived in my hand. this coming March will be the 30th anniversary of the US defeat at Corregidor, the moment that my Lolo had his character tested.  It was the moment he choose a path away from death in favor of a difficult journey back to his family.  It surely was a journey of faith, hope and love.  A scary moment in life but an important moment in life where a man realize there is a reason to go on, something bigger than self.

As I brought the chain over my head to hang the dog-tag around my neck I was again moved by the energy of the moment.  It had become clear, I had to finish the March begun by my grandfather 30 years earlier.  My entire life I'd wanted to visit the land of my forefathers, the Philippines.  Timing however has never been right.  This time though, we'll make it right, because it feels like the right thing to do.  I hope you'll help me.

"what can you get me, what do I need?"  Cash, help me get passage to the Philippines.  I have a date to walk in another man's shoes.

Tea for Two, Two for Tea - Come, Get Lost w/ Me

"what's your favorite spot for tea, ...on a mountain", she asked. she had my attention now as my mind wandered through a dream. where would one take a wood nymph like this for tea, how deep a moment am I willing to share. ah tea, another divine beverage. perhaps less on merriment than wine but surely more full of thought...

my desire for tea always transports the mind to a friends shop. a wonderful spot to procure exceptional small farm tea. from there I travel to other great tea-houses I know, scatter about the city, hidden on hillsides, deep in the jungles of my childhood imagination. the places I know and the places of fantasy all share a quiet spirit to them. intimate, they are a place of intention and thought. cozy, like a fort, I picture just the two of us occupying the space but it is shared with memories left by other guests ...their drawings, scribbled notes, pillow, feathers, nature, it is a temple... a place to worship, alone, together, each other, the serenity.

a tea-house, on a mountain, the thought or perhaps fear of a conversation that has no end; wonderful.

lost now in a cup of tea I'm disoriented, is that the setting sun or is it rising in my minds-eye. what vision is this before me. Where shall I travel with this woman, the answer is sure to unfold.  in this moment what is clear, with her I must share some tea. delicious

Never, Never Gonna Give You Up

it sucks when you realize you are a writer.  ...a story teller, a bullshit artist, a dreamer longing to write but scared of having to share.  the day that you have to open up your heart and be accountable for what you love is a tough day, that was the day I realized I was a writer, it sucked.

whatever your story is, when you become a writer, you realize it's just that, a story.  The choice is to either tell it or get off it.  the only one holding you back is you.  yep, accountability is difficult to escape.  sure you can try to shift the blame to someone else, "re-write" the story.  I know because I try it all the time.  But we both realize it doesn't solve anything in the end.  the fact remains that I am a writer, I know it and I'm not happy when I try to fake it.

we tell ourselves we can't pursue our dreams because they don't make us money.
we tell ourselves we can't complete whats in our heart because I have to many other things to do first.
we tell ourselves it doesn't matter because nobody will care anyway.

Standing on the other side of this abbyss I'm here to tell you it is all true.  keep on whinning, I hear ya.  Every story you tell yourself is true as true can be.  And in the end so is the fact you are what you are.  me, I'm a writer.

I fought the fact that I need to write.  I even allow people to convience me that I'm something else, that I'm not a writer.  at times I'd pretend that writing is only a private thing that I do for me and need not share.  Limit my world, hide from the truth that makes me happy, sounds fair but it is no wonder that life decided to kick me in the teeth.  had she not, I may never have awoken to the truth.  I am a writer, therefore I write.

Agree with me or not, I don't care.  read me or not if you dare.  I write not for you anyway, only for she and I.  I have stories to tell, unsaid words needing out; in need to live again so I writer.  I do it because I am a writer.  ...even if it's just about a bottle of wine

I'm Finishing My Coffee

 This affects all of us man.  so I pause, reflect and enjoying my coffee.  stress in my life can't compare to those we honor today.  sure this dude has had some ups and downs in life (strikes and gutters if you will) but never have I had to watch my buddies die face down in the muck of a war zone.  Sadly, many of our nations veterans have.  say what you will about the conflict in Iraq, the ongoing battles in Afghanistan, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, et all... the soldiers there were just doing what they were told so they could stay alive and eventually make it home.  One of those men was my dad.  (man am I thankful he made it home) 

So today, years removed from his service, he and I had some fun seeking out what freebies people were willing to give the old-man.  "thank you for your service" the common phrase of the day.  I however can't help but wonder what the world would be like had more people served to protect our basic freedoms.  Not with rifle in hand but with an open mind, an exstended hand and a smile.

Yes, bad people exist in the world, both abroad and at home.  Conflict occurs in every corner of the globe and parcel of the playground but violence, a hard heart, a closed mind never solves anything.  later, when I sitdown with my dad and other vets tonight to enjoy an applebees free dinner I'm sure we'll discuss, "what so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding"... meditating on that is the best way to honor our future veterans, it affects all of us, man

Say It Aint So Joe

Fall, for many reason is the season of abundant joy.  Harvest, the many colors of the changing season, crisp air that hints towards winter and of course football, my favorite being college football (or at least it was).  It's a good thing that new wine vintages are released this time of year because I need a distraction...

College football is in shambles.  Money, power and the think that "winning is the only thing" has destroyed the once beautiful collegiate game.  It should be about the game, the glory and the atmosphere of a Saturday afternoon shared by a stadium of people.  tailgating with old friends, singing the fight song as the band plays on, the roar of a frenzied crowd, all things to celebrate.  Then of course the boys on the field giving their all, not for big money contracts but for a dream.  a dream to maybe make the next level sure, but for most it is the dream they share with the students, the alum and most times the state, the dream that we can be the best warriors in the land.  In its true form college football is about a love of sport.

slowly however that love has tarnished.  cheaters abound, so many school like Oregon, Ohio State, and much of the SEC are under investigation that nothing will likely be done.  We just except it as the dirt face of the new game.

many point to the desire to crown a champ as another example of futility.  the current BCS system is a mockery.  but the other options are just as lame.  truth is, a champ is not what people seek, it is a desire to create more revenue that matters to them.  the new mega conferences demonstrates that.

But then things like Penn State and Joe Paterno happen.  dirty little secrets, where rather than standing up for what is morally right, rather than being a voice for those without one, rather than protecting young vulnerable kids; a man of enormous power, reputation and prestige chose to only point out the evil but do nothing more to stop it.  Even as he knew it continued, he remained silent in public.  clearly Fear stopped him.  a fear of how this tragedy might would effect his team, his reputation, his friendship who knows but Papa Joe couldn't face his fear. In his personal failure young boys were hurt, sad.

we celebrate college players because they stand in the face of fear, sacrifice their bodies so all of us can have something to believe in on Saturdays in the fall.  I fear now that we have little left to believe in when it comes to college football.  money, power, winning; what does it all mean when we are stuck living in fear.

All You Got is What You Believe You Got - I Gotta Beleive

Surrounded by words, what do you say when you can't talk, in search of my voice, I listen to music to find it...  Alright Ms Nicks, I'm ready to be "washed clean." I'm stuck somewhere between "what I had and what I lost". Even though I understand the impermanence of life, this episode has been a hard pill to shallow. Yes "women, they will come and they will go" but as the song shifts consciousness, I wonders when she has "bette davis eyes" how can one let her go... the musical meditation plays on.

I take a sip from the bottle. the tannic taste of the washington merlot has a slight warming sensation to my throat. in the state I'm in it's good to know I can still feel. I'm lost. I'm vulnerable. I still can't believe she is gone, ...is she? The wine hits my stomach now and those eyes return to my mind, watching. Big, Blue, haunting, I feel like I'm stand at the foot of my Great Gatsby. it all weighs heavy, a large pull from the bottle does nothing to reduce the weight but I allow myself to enjoy the juice anyway.

new lyrics in my head work to remind me, "yesterday's gone... yesterday's gone... oooh don't you look back"

half a bottle gone or half a bottle to go, the task I've chosen to keep my mind busy is all about perspective. I put the bottle down to grab my pen. the notebook before me is filling quicker then I can drain the bottle next to me. If it is all about those eyes, then all I can do is write, this story needs a better ending. I will not except a tragedy, the world is full of to many right now. "i wanna get next to you." spins through my mind now, so I write, write and write till my hand is sore, the bottle dry and my aching heart goes numb,... for now

spent I close my eyes relaxing into the next tune... "aint no woman like the one I got"

tapping my foot all I have left is a belief in what I "got"... drifting into the moment, "I'll kiss the ground she walks on" is exactly how I feel.

Game On Officer, Game On

Apparently if I am not going to ask out a woman, the universe is threatening to force an encounter on me.

From their perspective, I guess I can see what it looked like. After pull my car over suddenly, I jump out with a hatched and run toward the bushes.  They must have been thinking, either I just caused trouble, I'm about to cause trouble or I need to take a piss.  Pick the scenario, this is something these lady cops thought they should look into.  I'm sure how I was dressed had something to do with it.  My stylish form fitting running gear does show off my physique and the bright orange stocking cap I was wearing is sure to catch an eye, but it's my ten dollar shades that I must admit, make me look damn sexy.  Seeing how I was dressed, you could say I was asking for harassment.

"What are you doing over there?" I heard an authoritative voice call over my shoulder.

With an election sign and hatchet in hand I turned to face the cutest little butch officer of the law that I've ever seen.

"is that yours" she barked.

"the sign no, but yeah I work for the guy" I replied as I leaned on the sign, pushing it in by hand.  my eyes focused on checking this officer out.  not my type but she had a good stance. well balanced, defensive and ready to act.  I'm not sure if she'd go for the gun or choose to mace me.  Obviously, she was confident whichever she picked she could have it unbuckled and drawn before I could close the distance between us.  "I'm just trying to get'em back up after the storm." I said taking a couple steps toward her.

"Get that thing away from me!"

I can see I've made her nervous, "what thing?"

"The WEAPON sir." her tone was deadly serious, freezing me in my tracks.

"oh the hatchet." I turn and toss it into the bushes.  Before she can ask the obvious question I answer it for her, "I'm using it as my hammer."

"A pick-axe? Do you see how that can be misconstrued?"

thinking to myself, it's a little hatchet with a rubber protector over the blade, this aint going to hurt you lady.  My answer is humble, "I totally get it officer."

Turning my back, I walk over to retrieve my so called pick-axe.  The officer says something else to me but unimportant my attention is elsewhere.  I notice that all this time there was backup in the police-cruiser.

"Is that your car?" a sexier but equally authoritative voice inquires.

I look over at my car still running, the drive side door open and it is the only car in the entire lot.  "Why, did you run the plates, ...are you trying to look me up?"

"you look like trouble" she smiles, "I might have too."

The things I would say if her girlfriend was not armed and looking over my shoulder.  Instead I look directly into the eyes of the sexy cop inside the vehicle.  As I retrieve my weapon I flash a coy smile.  "Thanks officer." I say before breaking eye contact and return to my car.  Secretly I hope they decide to take me in, I'm a bad man.

Damn It's a Bunch of Bull

It didn't start with ego but ego soon took over.  at first I just wanted to grow stuff.  organic food to eat, a new relationship with the planet, but mostly family.  I wanted to learn to put down roots and raise a healthy family.  these were the goals of the farm.  the more I read, the more I thought the more complex I allowed my vision to become.  soon what I was really thinking about was a new type of economy.  secretly I was challanging some of the foundations of america's version of capitalism.  I wanted to take down the bull.
now in over my head I am lost in the labyrinth, alone.  my ego drove me to obsession, an obsession to take down the bull.  I pushed people away, especially loved one because I thought I was protecting them from the fears I was to face.  Instead, they lost faith, I lost support and then we lost our way.
the bull is still out there, awaiting me in this labyrinth which has me trapped.  my time here has been defeating, I was ready to give up.  Lost however, is no way to go through life.  scary as it has been, time in the isolation has changed me for the better. Today, under a full moon, I let go the past and walk the path to my future...
I pray my love has left a trail of thread to lead me home.

Time Is On My Side? Yes It Is, I'm Told

From a vision on a distant horizon to the roots of manifestation I choose to live my life.  some call it magic but I find it is my way of being.  As a life long "creative", I've devoted much of my learning to the art of bringing my ideas to life.  I see something that I desire or I dream of something I want, I can have it if I commit to it.  I came to believe that if I pour my soul into the creative process, anything is possible.  Along the journey however, there have always been pitfalls, distractions, or other temptations to seduce me from my course.  So even though anything is possible, the possibilities being boundless, it takes a powerful kind of focus for a vision to take root.  Like balancing a tight rope, I am aware of a path to my desire but should I lose touch, everything can come crashing down suddenly.

Alone, I've found success creating a world that fits my desires.  Risk, reward, boom and bust all share space in my life and the scares from those encounters linger, but I get by.  still I continue with the life I've chosen because as a creative I must create.  Or so I believed.

Now coming into a stage of life were creating alone, only for self is no longer satisfying.  Dreams for me now are much bigger, bolder and they hold the hopes of others.  It is an inspiring type of creating now that pushes me to confront by my personal fears.  If I create it, can I still control it, which of course the answers is no.

Fleeting, control is, food for the false ego.  A million times I must have learned the lesson.  I never control the creative process, I only can work to direct it.  Guide the magic of the moment toward an outcome that I believe will be beautiful, beneficial, positive, this is the limits of control.  Pushing any harder will cause the collapse, sucking the love out of the creation.  Still, in the growth of a creation, as the roots push outward and the fruits of labor begin to blossom it feels like control; a godly blissful moment.  the mantra of "anything is possible" humming in my ears.  And in that same moment of joy the heart can be wrenched, torn from the chest, if part of the grand vision is not as it should be.   Suddenly a sense of failure can blind us to everything else.  it is in that sadness where I sit now and sulk.  having lost the only part that really mattered to me in my most recent vision, I'm left with the rest which appears only as window dressing on house of shit.  (false ego smiles with victory as I loose control)

visions however are never complete until we stop working them.  anything is possible as long as I commit to creating it.  I have no control but I have the power of my intention.  with that the magic of love opens the world to the creative...  I seek my focus again 

It's Just a Date.

Ten years following 9-11 and the country is still suffering the hangover.  It's hard to forget that moment, but it seems we still haven't learned the lessons.  The so called "war on terror" rages on, even after the man known as the mastermind of the plan has been killed.  (their will always be another enemy)  We have good troops, away from their family, fighting in wars that seem to have ever changing goals.  (when people profit off war their will always be pressure to fight)  Corperations are still taking advantages of our country, but then again that goes way back before enron.  And so does corrupt poloticians.  It just seems todays governement has too much money influnence going on.  Plus, it gets worse as the days pass, ever since the supreme court ruled that money equals speach and corporations have the same speach rights as people.  Sad really, money equals and vote and the people have no money.  It makes one wonder, if no one can afford to buy gas, who has money to express there vote?

I too spent today thinking about the effects of 9-11.  remembering the sacrifices people have made.  In there name I hope our nation finally quakes up and learns the lesson.  It's just a date if we don't live with respect



Sardines Over Orzo - If It Don't Sound Good, You Don't Know My Skill

truth is wine doesn't drive me. yes, I write about it, I talk about it, and I drink a lot of it (but not too much).  Still, it's not really about wine for wine sake.  yes, I love the magic of wine but really it's food, any food that inspires me.  food is one of the best ways we communicated with the planet.  (hence, what pulled me to the farm in the first place, but that's a story for another glass.) how we express that communication is what excites me.  tonight I'm choosing to begin the conversation with a bottle of Sonoma-Cutrer Pinot Noir and stuff I found on the shelf. 

However, tonight it isn't about the bottle.  Tonight, wine is the special guest.  I great little bottle I grabbed at my new favorite wine shop in seattle.  so being that this tasty bottle is my guest (yes that is code for I'm drinking alone) I need to make a meal worthy of our guest.  Now if one would have stopped by the farm prior to this dinner, you likely would have thought my cuboards were bare.  But isn't that the beauty of cooking, creating something out of what you got and making that something a meal.

Yes, organic is the way to go.  whenever I can I get the freshest possible and ideally the best of the freshest.  having those types of ingredants makes cooking easy.  when reality sets in, and you are forced to use what you have, that's when your skill as a chef comes out.  luckily my chef skills come from a woman that survived a war.  more importantly, like any good mother, she took pride what she feed her family 

having lived in the japanese occupied philippines my grandma knows a few things about making do with what you have.  today, I'm yet to find a person that can out cook my Lola on her best day.  from watching create ever since I was a kid, I picked up a couple tricks of my own.  so what appeared to be junk on the shelves and a mostly empty fridge, turned into a flavor plate of sardines over orzo.  which if you ask me was worth of your guest, but only speaking for myself, I enjoyed them both.