Father Nature Lives Here.
The adventure, the landscape is carving away at me.
#journeyasteacher
View the astounding, rapidly changing scenery and share your stories of the journey as teacher.
Leaving Home, Coming Home.
I have plucked myself out of an ecosystem, which I believed I always carried with me. I feel a pull toward home in so many directions—and in equal measure, the pull to roam. They are not separate, but one and the same, fluid, shifting, connected.
I didn’t skin my knee; I fell on my ass.
I didn’t skin my knee; I fell on my ass. Yesterday, I wrote about the willingness to skin my knees on Life. This morning on a hike, my foot slipped on mud and tree roots. I didn’t skin my knee, but I did fall on my ass. It was one of those “this is going to hurt...Art + Life
I’ve found myself frustrated at not writing—like the trip was being wasted—until I remembered a comment by the French-Cuban essayist and memoirist Anais Nin (with whom I had an obsessive fascination about 15 years ago): I cannot both Write and Live.