Day Three Hundred Thirty Four: Is South The Right Direction?

I don't know. I just pick a direction and head that way until I bump into an obstacle and veer in another direction.

Tuesday, November 30: Sharpie on paper.

Day Three Hundred Thirty Three: 333 is Half Way.

And the devil is in the details. Small but noticeable when missing:

Monday, November 29: sharpie on paper

Day Three Hundred Thirty Two: Peaceful Plenty

Yeah, symbolism rocks.

Sunday, November 28: Paint, sharpie on paper, 11x15

Day Three Hundred Thirty One: I Have Wings

Oh yeah, I ate more turkey, and watched snow come down. 

Saturday, November 27: Paint, paint on canvasboard

Day Three Hundred Thirty: Misty Haze

Quietude. Yes Please.

Friday, November 26: Paint, paint on foam board.

Day Three Hundred Twenty Nine: Fast Feast

Like locusts they descend and consume all in the path. And thanksgiving is over. At least the cleanup crew has time to talk and hang out.


And there is some time to dream of above freezing climates and riding fast and far.

Thursday, November 25: Paint, sharpie on canvas board. 18x24

Day Three Hundred Twenty Eight: Turkey Eve...

Jonesing for a ride, I give you this as I contemplate eating enough to power me through miles and miles and miles....

Wednesday, November 24: self photo with my lover.

Day Three Hundred Twenty Seven: Ice, Brrr, Fire Warm

Frigid cold weather somehow brings out the warmth is people. 

Tuesday, November 23: sharpie on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Twenty Six: Thank You Snow Escape Friends

My drive was reduced tonight due to inclement weather. I am staying with a friend. Snow blowing fast on the prairie makes for super hazard. It is good day to see the kindness of the people around me. And the excellent spaghetti skills. 

Monday, November 22: Sharpie on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Twenty Five: I am blessed

My family is amazing. We sometimes grumble to or about each other, but we always step up to support each other. I am blessed. Thank you. And here again is the newest member. His skill set is still fairly limited but he has mastered smiling, looking cute and bringing out the smiles in us.

Sunday, November 21: Photo of Mr. Moo

Day Three Hundred Twenty Four: Change is finding me

Some days I hear the universe screaming at me clearly. Time for change. Time to change. Times are changing... don't get left behind. Today was a big day for wake up calls. Time to change. That means a move. A fresh start. A new perspective. 
This time I pick Austin, Texas. All I have to do is store everything, tie up loose ends, rearrange my life and my finances, clear my head, stand up straight and get it done.

Saturday, November 20: sharpie on paper, 6x9

Day Three Hundred Twenty Three: The Write Way

Writing is beginning to capture my attention. More of that please. I just wish I had more to share. And of course, the fact I that I writing about writing, I have  even less to day.

Friday, November 19: sharpie on paper, 6x9

Day Three Hundred Twenty Two: The Family Way

Today I can't help but see the beauty in my own gene pool. A pool I swim in. 

Thursday, November 18: A photo of my favorite boy. 

Day Three Hundred Twenty One: Bad Questions, Bad Answers

Some days I feel like the questions are not the right ones. I might as well be asking the magic 8. To get better answers, I need better questions. Or to just shut up and get to work and let the answers work themselves out.

Wednesday, November 17: sharpie on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Twenty: I'm Special

Or so I heard today. I had to wonder though: is that like short bus special or I kind of like you special. I will go with the later until the former makes itself clear.

Tuesday, November 16: Sharpie on paper, 11x15

Day Three Hundred Nineteen: In the Pit of my Stomach

I walked into work today and for the first time in a while I was unhappy to be there. I have generally made it a point to be happy no matter where I am. But there it was. I want to do more, something else, something creative and inspiring and thoughtful. I was in mid walk to a mindless task when it hit me. Is this all there is?

Somehow my ego jumped up and told me that I am not using my talents. All the talents that god gave me, not being used. What should I be doing was my immediate question to the ill at ease feeling that ruffled my hair as it blew cold into my heart. I want more.

Damn ego. Just when I had this place wired. Just when I had befriended everyone here. Just when I thought I was here for the right reasons. Turns out my lessons here might be nearly learned and it is time to move on. Just like that, it hit me. It is time to move on. I do not know to where, but the time is nigh.

Now comes the time to search. As I hear it progress always involves risk. You can’t steal second base with a foot stuck on first. So. Today I clear the decks in my head and in my home and pray. What do you want me to do next?

Monday, November 15: sharpie on paper, 11x15

Day Three Hundred Eighteen: Evolve or Die.

Choose or don't choose; that is a choice too.

Sunday, November 14: pastel, pen, sharpie on paper. 9x12

Day Three Hundred Seventeen: I went to a movie

A true chick flick. Eat Pray Love. The boy I went with was laughing about all the estrogen in the room and then fell asleep. I cried a bunch through it, as is the plan when you see a movie like that. The scenery was awesome.

Saturday, November 13: sharpie and pencil on paper

Day Three Hundred Sixteen: I miss Anonymous

Remember back in the day when you could go somewhere without having facebook check you in and 300 of of your closest know about it. When you could get a coffee, look right and left a duck into a Disney film all alone and no one would ever know. 


Remember when you had nothing to live up to or live down to because there was no one to care unless you make a point of it. 


Well. No one really does. And even if they do, why do I care. And I don't really, but I do miss knowing that no one knows me as I try on new versions of me. 
Laurentia v. 52.11.12.11.43

Friday, November 12: Paint, pencil, sharpie, spit. on paper. 

Day Three Hundred Fifteen: Tall boys are my weak knees

So, there's this boy. Tall, yeah, very tall. Just the way I like 'em. 


I love to love them before it gets more than imagination and play. Goofing around, all innocent. More than that and I usually run. I have a hard time putting someone in the picture of my life as more than a ancillary role. I am not opposed to it, I just don't see it, or haven't with anyone I have met recently. 


All that said, I would like to change that. I guess its just a decision. A willingness to compromise and share. And to fuck like bunnies. 

Thursday, November 11: Tempera, pencil, sharpie on paper

Day Three Hundred Fourteen: Mingling Molecules

I ride daily in nearly the same location during the work week. As time goes by you start to recognize people on the same schedule.

There is a gentleman on a recumbent bicycle that I see nearly every day. Sometimes he is departing as I arrive and sometimes I am departing. Some days we just pass on the ride somewhere. We have waved and smiled over the months. Today I pulled in and there he was unloading his bike from his white Prius and the only logical place to park was right next to him. After all summer it would be weird to not say hello which we did and exchange pleasantries about the weather. And once I was ready, I turned to roll by him and introduced myself.

As I was speaking he was removing a glove to shake hands.

I was wearing a pair of red knit gloves myself; even the warmest November day is brisk. They are a pain to get off quickly unless you want to turn them inside out. While contemplating the five single finger pulls, a host of thoughts passed through my brain in the few seconds before we shook:

More refined ladies used to wear gloves all the time. I pictured a bustle wearing woman delicately extending a soft white leather gloved hand. How long ago was that? The fine lady in my vision sported a bun in her hair. Perhaps when proper women wore gloves in public it was to avoid the connection that skin on skin reminds us of. Since then gloves have gone out of vogue for much beyond protection from inclement weather. Would it now be considered rude not to remove my glove in this age to shake his hand? Or are we beyond that and I can call it fashion or affectation?

 I then thought briefly of quantum physics and the theory that when we touch, molecules and energy are exchanged and at least at that level we would be connected. But then we are all of the same oneness and energy and connected at all times anyway. Perhaps the close exchange just  reminds us of that making this connection take on more significance. 

As those thoughts passed I felt I was too late to do anything other than shake my gloved hand with his bare hand. Even so, I could feel that connection of soul to soul to everlasting; even through the membrane of cheap synthetic knit. (Am I also connected thusly with the Chinese factory worker whose hands fashioned, created and packaged these red gloves? Their energy certainly is infused in them.)

With all that history and metaphysics dancing it suddenly seemed very weird so we bid each other good ride and I rolled out. Some how I could feel him nearby all ride. On my return trip, I stopped to fiddle with the tunes for a while and he passed me. I could feel the what ever it is and I felt awkward so I dawdled behind him. I had to pass him again on the next hill and from there my workout ramped up to complete the ride fast. (Of course I speed up every time I pass someone, I hate a re-pass!) When I saw him again there was more expectation. Are we now more connected because of that small exchange? Like smelling a flower on a hike and having it linger with you far into the day.

Alan, welcome to my world.

Wednesday, November 10: Tempera, pencil, sharpie, fingers on paper.

Day Three Hundred Thirteen: Everyone has a part to play

Mine is all I can do. And I am drawn to others and them to me so that our combined thoughts will bring what we need or expect as a group to happen for our worlds to seem correct. There are no mistakes. Everyone grows.

Tuesday, November 9: Sharpie on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Twelve: Bumps and Starts

I know, I advance. I think, I fear, I retreat. 


Time for full speed ahead. Starting now.

Monday, November 8: Sharpie on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Eleven: Beginning

Start from here. Today. It is always fresh in infinite possibility. 
No more crying over things I have no control over. I just need to get control of that spontaneous emotion springing from my eyes.

Sunday, November 7: Sharpie on Paper. 9x12

Day Three Hundred Ten: Arrival?

Sometimes I think I am so full in my head of finding peace in my thoughts that the words overrun the silence I seek. It is time to stop pursuing and just be. 
It is hard to give up the learning, but it is time for knowing. 
How many of the ideas I use are someone else's and just another place to cling because it seems right. Knowledge is not wisdom. When can I move from striving to remove judgments to being one with all that is and never having the thoughts occur at all. Of moving with the flow of the source with perfect knowing and love.  
Even these questions and this writing, they are distractions from allowing my mind to quiet and silence the wild monkey thoughts that run rampant in my head. Constant presence is a gift, but training the mind... whew.


On the flip side, in my material world I went to a snowboarding, nay, shredding event tonight with a couple of videos. While I loved the videos, and the badass riders they featured, there is probably no chance in hell that I am going to jump off a tree, a swing set or cliff on a snowboard with the risk of face plant o pavement or a Sonny Bono on the mountain. My back will not bend the way the chicks seemed to do. I would rather ride my bike for 20 miles as fast as I can till I puke than do that. I do think I will look into some yoga classes though.  But that said, I can totally see me in the hip shred outfit, sliding down the runs with sunglasses and a smile on; destined for fun and apres ski.

Saturday, November 6: A day closer to winter photo. 

Day Three Hundred Nine: Joy to Billions

This is my aspiration. I have no idea how to accomplish it but I can see the results in my head and I will hold on to it. It is a simple idea. And in my conception we ride bikes. And we smile and laugh, a lot. And no one is fearful.


I started with myself. 

Friday, October 5: Sharpie and dreams on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Eight: Joy Cometh

Today was yet another gorgeous fall day. It belied the fact that it is so late in the year. Fifty five degrees, not a cloud in the sky and no wind. I enjoyed it completely knowing that perhaps soon I will not be able to ride so fast or so freely. 
Thank goodness I found that the trails I love are to be plowed all winter. Perhaps I will not retire to the couch for the snow season. Perhaps I will get stronger and more badass than I am now. Perhaps. 


Perhaps my ego needs to fly south for the winter and just allow me to ride for the sheer joy of the time on the bike, the time outside and the moments I see god.

Thursday, November 4: Sharpie on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Seven: So Much to Manifest!

Change of seasons, it is beautiful. The clouds here are so recognizable. Years ago I was given a golf game for my laptop. It was the Coeur 'd Alene Resort version of the game. I was living in NYC at the time but the graphics showed the clouds so well that it made me miss this area so much. Up until that moment I had not realized how distinctive they are. Or perhaps for the six years that I lived in Manhattan, I never really looked at the sky.


Now I get to experience that sky daily. And the writing of this has just aroused a melancholy for NYC. Sigh. Always so much to see, so many places to love. 

Wednesday, November 3: Photo of my river.

Day Three Hundred Six: Choose Kindness

Remembering or learning is a continuing task. I try and see something new everyday. Some days have more "ah ha" than others. For today I bring more kindness to myself and my world. My need to prove I am right goes out the window when I also give myself freedom from the good opinion of other people. 


While I listen for the voice of God, my art is where I go to quiet my mind. I am looking for the grandeur of silence.

Tuesday, November 2: Sharpie on paper, 9x12

Day Three Hundred Five: Shift of Focus

Its a new month. And I need a new focus. Something more peaceful, quiet, joyful. 
I don't know what that means, but I trust the universe to let me know. Until then, I will play in the weather, straighten up papers, make plans and smile.

Monday, November 1: Sharpie on paper, 9x12