Mando 101

I tore the house apart looking for one of my music books. Lost. A trip to the local music store. Yes, in fact, a real store. A great place where the guys are hip and understand my scattered music/photog/highly caffeinated mind. I will buy a replacement. Wasteful indeed, my organizational skills. Shetland Jumper calls my name and for the life of me, I can't remember how it ends...

Universal Frame

A few years back I was able to travel to San Francisco. A pilgrimage of sorts. One thing that I really really wanted to experience was the Golden Gate Bridge. After having cycled in Napa Valley, a rented car would serve, for the journey to the hills. Camera on my lap, I waited in great expectation of seeing this marvelous bridge. A monumental connector that I had only seen photographs in magazines. Who knew, that in order to leave Napa and arrive in San Francisco early, one had to travel bumper to bumper in the thickest fog bank I had ever seen. The entire bridge was engulfed in fog. I might as well have been traveling on a road in New England, for there was absolutely no clue as to my location on this massive bridge. It was not until almost the very end of the bridge that I was able to finally get an image of her spectacular structure. A moment in the midst of fog. Developed, the picture lacked composition. Failure embraced disappointed. I tucked the photo into a book and forgot about it.

Six years later, I find myself reading a book about Annie Leibovitz. Page 15 of AT WORK, is a picture that Annie took of the Golden Gate Bridge during the 1970's. How interesting. Leibovitz's photo is 100 times more amazing. Fog is a feature, or at least it appears to be. A quick snappy 30 years earlier. Same frame, universal journey, yet Leibovitz, queen of all things pixelated, demonstrates why she is who she is. Gingerly, I embrace my limitations, discontented, as photog.

Reflections at Walden Pond January 7 2012

Yoga Resolution

Yoga, who knew? I certainly have had my moments when watching someone like Rodney Yee move his muscular body on some far out island, off the coast of some dreamy sand land. I bought a mat and block. Mesmerized into some flickering moment of hope that I could be at one with my flexibility. Toned and beautiful like guru Yee. Reality. Yoga is difficult. Yoga is sport. Yoga is sweat. Discipline. Who knew? Ignorant me. I have a great admiration for people who practice. I embrace my disinterest. Settled into my yoga practice quite comfortably. Be it a certain kind of yoga, my coffee yoga. I brew a hot cup of coffee and sip, whilst my girls practice their intricate moves and stretches. I enjoy watching. Bringing my beloved coffee cup to my lips. Smile and laugh at the playfulness of it all. Ommmmm. Namaste.