Thank You For Being a Friend

Loved this. And can’t seem to get Andrew Gold’s song out of my head:



There IS a Santa

Or at this link: CBS: The Secret Santa

Sunday Morning: Soul Stirring

Don’t quit on this short film…

Darren Jew: “I’m fortunate enough to have spent the last 30 years of my life capturing and sharing the marine environments of the world. Of the things that I have photographed in my life, I enjoyed photographing the ocean the most. It’s my love. It’s my passion.  The creatures within it. The way the light falls within the sea. To be able to capture that and show people what can be achieved with photography under the water is one of the things I love to do.  I’ve been in the water with people that have seen whales for the first time, and their mask has been filling up with tears.  It’s been that powerful of an experience.  Every swim with a whale is different.  I’m still in awe of their power and their grace and their acceptance of me when I’m in the water and what they offer up in terms of photographic opportunities.  From a young age I’ve wanted to do exactly what I’m doing now.  Every time I get in the water, I remember how lucky I am…I am trying to show images of the moments that are most important to me. The ones that have touched me.  The ones that I feel are the most descriptive of the experience that I have when under the sea. Whether it’s 8 or 10 animals dancing in the beautiful sunrays. Or intimate moments with a calf interaction. Being able to share intimate moments with these animals is a real privilege…The thing about the Sea is that it is usually pretty silent.  So, to have the sea full of whale song is like nothing else.  There is no other experience that I could think of that is like it.  It vibrates through your body.  Literally, you can feel the sound.  It is probably one of the most poignant experiences you can have in the ocean. The best encounters with whales are the ones where they are interested, curious about the swimmers in the water. And they’ll come up – look you in the eye.  And that’s quite a profound moment.  It’s like no other feeling that I’ve had before…Even after 30 years of seeing these amazing creatures in the ocean, sometimes I still have to remember to take pictures because I’m too busy of being in awe of what’s in front of me.”

Called out of ourselves by the scent of a wild rose, the stunning yellow spike of goldenrod – and we answer back

Laura Sewall

“Crickets call to the east. A chopper ratchets a mile to the west. I sit in the middle, my left ear seduced by the soft cadence, the evershifting song of crickets in spring. My right ear is hollowed out, hard, both braced against and invaded by the clipped din of machinery. I am beginning to cry. I have felt the breath and nudge of the Dreamtime and know that it is beyond my threshold of perception, just beyond my reach, just a slip of consciousness away. I long for my serpentine thirst to be quenched by the dreaming, long for the look and feel of ultimate belonging and the sensuous play of being embedded, in bed with the world, dug in and dirty. But the phone rings, my endless list of things to do nags, haunts, and fills my consciousness. I too perceive the invisibles. In this case, they are mostly petty preoccupations- the trip I must make to Safeway, the phone calls I must return, the mail piling up- and the fact of my father, growing old, alone, 3,000 miles away. A phone call to him does not appear on my list. I feel such sadness as daily obligations fill my badgered view. I go blind in order to forget. The daily demands of our lives cause us to narrow our field of vision, shaping and minimizing our view to match a preoccupation with phones and texts or a long list of tasks that are never complete.Then in unconscious defense against the onslaught of modern business as usual, we further minimize the sensations we receive with self-inflicted doses of numbing. Most of us, I dare say, are numb to varying degrees, and for good reasons. This state of being is what James Hillman calls ‘anesthesia.’ Anesthetized, we no longer gasp in sudden wonder, inspire or become inspired as the beauty of the world enters us, for we are artificially numbed. David Abram calls this state ‘collective myopia,’ implying that we see little beyond our comfortable and constrained personal environments, we lack depth perception. When awakened, perception is motivated, like a hunger of the body. And like lovers, our sensing and sensual bodies are fed on sound and scent, feasted by late afternoon light. Because we hunger for the eroticism such sensation affords our bodies, we are pleased to be called out of ourselves by the scent of a wild rose, the stunning yellow spike of goldenrod- and we answer back.”

~ Laura Sewall

[Read more…]

Sunday Morning: Dear Son

20 October 1944
US Army Air Force Base

Dear Son:

I hoped I would never write this to you.  In a little less than an hour, I’ll be strapping myself into my old plane and pointing my nose westward.  I’ve seen the orders.  I think it will be for the last time.  And, so, suddenly I find my life stripped away, like the branches of an old, black tree.  All that matters is that I write this to you.

I know that you won’t remember me.  Not really. When I spent three days with you last year when you were 6 months old, and although you can’t yet understand it, I loved you more then than you might imagine loving anybody right now.

Now listen to me.  This Life, know that it is precious.  You’ve got to grasp it, every little whiff of it that passes by you. It won’t be easy. It won’t be certain. Not now. Not in your unimaginable future.  Don’t be surprised. No, embrace the stiff winds and the lonely heights. Remember your name.  Never turn away from the right course because it’s hard.  Above all, love.  Scrape out the bottom of your soul.  And love for all you’re worth. And when you find her, risk everything. Die a thousand deaths to get her.  Don’t look back.  When you grow older, older than I’ll ever be, blow on the embers of that first heroic choice. You’ll be warmed, sustained.

Some day, you’ll have a son, remember, he’s your greatest gift.  Tell him these things.  Make a man of him.  Love him.  Don’t live to get money.  Have a few things, but make them good things. Take care of them. Learn how they work.  There is beauty in the smell of good machines and old leather.

When you walk, alone, in the autumn, down roads at night, with trees tossing in the sunset, know that I would give everything to walk with you and tell you their names.  But I there, in the light, through the branches, and I’m loving you where I see you.

I must go now.  All my love. For ever and ever.


Can’t believe she is mine


I’m well into my morning run. (Running Post coming. Need to digest the thoughts. Lot going on there.)

The email comes across. (You check emails when you run? Apparently, I do.  Addict.)

Mind rips back to an earlier moment.  An earlier post.

There’s been 1,933 posts. 1,934 if you count this one. (1,933. Wow. Compulsive behavior flourishing)

Yet, one post sticks in my mind.  It’s from March 8, 2012.  And titled “He Moved Me.”

I recall interviewing her for a management role. Fire in the belly.  Zero management experience. (I didn’t need another Project.)

Tigress hired up her team. Led from the front. Protected her cubs. And had fierce followership. (My pride still surging.)

I sent her a congratulatory email this morning.

Her Alessandra Marie was born yesterday afternoon. (That’s her pic up there.)

She replied back: “Can’t believe she is mine.”

I step up the pace on my run.

Mind pans back to the day of Rachel’s birth.  And then Eric’s birth.

I need to call the kids.

I need to call them today.

Good to be wrong

black and white,portrait,

It’s my third email of the day.
I’m reading.
A member on the team is getting accolades.
I flashback to a conversation with his manager three years ago.

He’s rough. Not sure he has it. Big Risk.
“There’s talent there. Trust me.”

I send him a note: “I’m proud we’re on the same team.”

Seconds later my email is flashing with his reply.

You made my day.”

I push my chair back.

And turn my back to my desk and stare out the window.

Good to be wrong.

Image Credit

59 Finishes in 5 min. How many can you name?

The Last Thing You See: A Final Shot Montage from Plot Point Productions on Vimeo.

My score? < 25%. Need answers. See below: [Read more…]

Riding MetroNorth. The Day’s Highlight.


I’m walking down 51st Street to catch the 6:22 train home.
A migraine has been throbbing since 11 am.
It’s progressively clawing at my attention.
And sawing at my patience.
3:30 am insomnia?
Skipping lunch?
This diet is going to kill me.
I find an open seat.
I grab my ticket from my bag.
And set my coat and bag overhead.
I slump into the window seat and rest my head against the window.
I close my eyes.
Give me 10 minutes. Please. Just 10. And, let this pain evaporate.
The train pulls out of Grand Central.
I drift away with the clickety clack of the train.
I awake to the conductor calling for tickets.
I hand my ticket to her.
She smiles, and hands it back.
She tells me she’ll be back and moves on to the other passengers.
I look down. It’s the receipt instead of the ticket.
Flustered. I apologize to my seatmate.
I stand up to reach for my bag.
I open the zipper to get at my wallet. [Read more…]

4:48 am. And Inspired.


Good Wednesday morning. Here are my selections of the inspiring posts of the week:

Elisa Ruland @ South of Easton with her beautiful post titled Despairin memoriam to those who died on 9-11:  “Scouring the rusted steel edges I wanted to find an explanation for the madness, I wanted to feel something instead of going numb, to find beauty in the ugliness.  The pain, horror and confusion was palpable in the blast etched remains of the steel, and the need to walk away was overwhelming.  I left without any answers to calm the static...”  That is Elisa’s photograph above.  Read more at this link.  Check out her other wonderful posts and photographs at this link.

LouAnn @ On the HomeFront with her post titled “Beauty and Grace.” You are asked to write 6 words that describe what your future holds for you.  What are your six words?  Go to this link and read LouAnn’s story.

The Kindness Blog with a post titled: “Go Humans.”  I just began following this blog which posts and shares heartwarming morsels of humanity each day.  Check out this post at at this link.  Take a moment to fan through the other posts over the past week.  I’m convinced you’ll feel a change.

Cristi Moise @ Simple & Interesting his share: People Seeing Their Younger Self in The Mirror. “Tom Hussey is an award-winning lifestyle advertising photographer based in Dallas, Texas. In a series entitled Reflections, Hussey shows a series of elderly people looking in a mirror at their younger self.” Moving.  You’ll find one of Hussey’s pictures below.  You must see the others at this link.

Have a great hump day.