My Account

“P.S. As for me, you shouldn’t worry. Being a Dreamer involves risk, and I’ve grown to love that. I’ve grown to love testing my limits, and this day is no different, but yes, I do have a plan. You see, I always enjoy…”

I am a member of a secret tribe. It has no chief or leader, nor will it ever. We swear no oath or loyalty, nor would we. We do as we please and we go where we want as that is our way. We always greet fellow tribe members with a simple gesture signifying that, wherever we go, we ride as one, for we are bound together by an unswerving belief in the transformative power of freedom.

A life lived beautifully, if not with perfection: and love given in earnest, if not always to the right recipient. A heart that is full and beats with a purpose, but in the eyes of a far away look, in the soul a persistant churning. Would that he could he would appoint himself Viceroy of all the world’s dreamers, shake them from their apathetic slumber, and toss them down the road to their splendid, suspended, intended destinies: And freed of that responsibility, he’d go off by himself to contentment, solitude and harmony…but no, sorry, no. For every dreamer awakened seems there’s two more sleeping, and there’s the true behind the Blue. Long live the Blue Coyote, the Haunted One. Viceroy to all the Worlds Dreamers. Godspeed.

It’s a fast-paced world we live in, and the more you like it, the faster it spins. We rush and we rumble and we scoot and we scramble, bobbing and blazing from cab to cab, plane to plane, city to city; striving with all our might to build a life worth living. It seems like everything we touch is built to make us go even faster – but – that is not universally true. There are some places purposefully built to lesson that pace, places built to make us feel the tug of our jester’s souls upon our heart strings. They are the places that make the crazily frenetic pace we maintain the rest of the time worthwhile; and wherever you are, if you’re reading these words, then you’re in one of those places. So take a good look around, exhale, smile, consider the glorious wonder of it all, and just…Enjoy!

We are all born the same: Lucky to see our first day, and more so to see tomorrow and the next. We are all fools looking for wisdom, seekers searching for truth, show-offs longing for attention, accidents waiting to happen, and unfinished souls struggling to find grace. There is no magical, pristine, perfect journey that awaits us, as we are all prisoners of time. Time is a thief, and it doesn’t negotiate. No matter how you structure your life – lush or spare, long or short, bold or cautious – wisdom dictates you start with a simple, clear ambition and pursue it with a great, epic passion. These two ingredients, when combined, have a glorious and inevitable outcome: A LIFE ELECTRIC

“We knew that living a cautious life was the only sensible approach, but we also knew that living a life sheltered from strife and devoid of danger would leave us vulnerable to the harsh realities that would inevitably find us. It’s something we felt too few people understood: that a person could either strive to become practical or strive to become wise, but they could never become both, for those two paths lead in opposite directions. So here we are and there we go, “Sensibly” pursuing wisdom”.

A love of the art of making of the treacherous tornado of tempting treasures that’s there for the taking. I often made the risky reaches required to reap those radiant riches over time. Though the ponderous plight of preserving their preciousness precluded any perception of the pristine primal pleasure of procurement. I needed to improve my groove and renew my view by resetting my vetting, so this sly guy vowed he’d only cling to things that gently lofted his mental wings: things made with an obvious “Love of the Art of Making”. Soon thereafter, I realized those six words had given me the gift I’d been denying myself all along: That Rarity that is Clarity.

I FELT GREAT FEAR that I was a stranger here, for despite whatever hardships came my way, my optimistic views didn’t change from what they were when the tides were high, the grasses green, and the horizon bright and sunny.
I FOUND IT WORRISOME that when everyone around me had given up hope, my stride remained purposeful and the twinkle in my eye remained as bright as ever. I BECAME GRAVELY CONCERNED about my calmness amongst their madness, my saneness amongst their strangeness, my lightness amongst their darkness. I THOUGHT MAYBE I WAS GOING INSANE for each day I’d been given, even the most difficult ones, always seemed like the chance of a lifetime to me and then something happened that changed everything: I LEARNED TO MY GREAT JOY, THAT I WASN’T ALONE

Aloft and aglow, the evening sun was the envy of all, it seemed. Tanned, handsome and optomistic, he was the lucky one who saw everything in the best of light. Oh sure, the noonday sun had his clarity and vision, and dawn certainly had her moments, as did sunset, but no one shined like the evening sun. His was a golden glow that made everything it touched a little better. Any bad day could be made a little brighter by a glimpse of his light on a tree during the long ride home. Then one day, sunset told the evening sun about the deep, dark night. She knew no sun at all. She spent all her time in the darkness. She was a midnight blue beauty. The evening sun became very curious about her, so he had sunset carry her a message from him in his canoe. She responded, a hauntingly beautiful, mysterious note that completely enthralled the evening sun. A few notes later the evening sun found himself madly in love with the deep, dark night. He wanted her to come to his world, a beautiful world of golden light, and leave her world of darkness behind. She sent back a note professing her love and accepting his offer. She also asked about the land she’d be moving to, the land of the evening sun. She wondered what mysteries it held. He responded that the evening sun had no mysteries, that here “there are only beautiful truths, only the shimmering lovliness of the understood and the explained. No mystery, no darkness, no black shadows. It is perfect I think.” The deep dark night cried, for she was wise and she knew what she must do. She knew what it was that truly gave life it’s most magical quality. She sent back a three word note, and he never heard from her again. (The 3 word note is in sunset’s and in the painting)

Two coyotes light as a feather in the crisp evening air. We have but one wish: that time might slow and allow this wonderful moment to linger. Nothing more, just let it linger.

Like everyone else, I was told my future had no limit. While it was true for some, for myself – I knew better. So instead I had simply set out to find it. And once I had, to push against it and try my best to move it. More like a bull than an eagle, just stubbornly plodding along. Looking back now, I can’t believe what I’ve done, where I’ve been. And so I say to you these two simple words; Not “NO LIMIT”, but “KNOW LIMIT”.

Over time, I have learned to fear these two words. Though they may seem innocuous I have seen them fence in countless horizons and destroy countless dreams. If we let them, those two words will bind our minds and imprison our destinies too. So let us fight against their seductive offer of passivity. Let us open our minds and free our souls by turning a Blind Eye to those words and insisting on living in the here and now, for it’s all we’ve got, and we’re lucky to have it.

As the wild, untamable storm that is life rages on around us, we may construct our castles and amass our fortunes. We may surround ourselves with all the trappings that a fortunate life provides; but if we do that, and our cup of gratitude has a hole in it, then we are bankrupt regardless. If, on the other hand, our cup is water-tight, then even the dust kicked up on the lonely, windswept road seems like gold, and even a single drop of good fortune carries within it the feeling of having been blessed.

Tired and weary at days end I find restoration at my fingertips, honest, unpretentious, robust, full-bodied, such a thrill to my lips, such a sweet intoxication…and she picks great wines, too.

Such a thrill to my lips, such a sweet intoxication, and she picks great wines, too.