"Every Kid"

Every kid dreams of being something great. What were you're dreams ask the small girl sitting in my arms. I don't know what I dreamed I replied to her.
Most mornings I awoke,emerging deep from within in my blankets stirring from an unrestful slumber-trying hard to not remember the nightmares from the night before. What did you dream asked the small voice?
I dreamt I hid from the monsters in the night-lumbering through the darkness stealing my youthful ideas of growing up. I dreamt of beautiful gardens and yellow fields sunburnt from the sun setting in the west. I remember once seeing the evening sky lit as if it were on fire, a burning ball of reds, oranges & yellows and wished I had a camera-to capture what I had never seen. I think I said to her colors always fascinated me...colors & textures. People and animals. Water, sun and air. Everything that reminds us the life is alive. And beautiful.
We sat still for a moment as she turned and put her arms around me and said; whatever you dream you can become. Dare to dream she whispered, dare to believe...

"Mom"

Don't ask me why I decided to write about my mom-probably the only valid reason I could give you would be that yesterday was the 2 year anniversary of her passing and with that comes yet another wave of grieving for what was never to be. It is always hard for me because I am not sure how I am suppose to feel- Funny how life comes back around to sometimes bite you on the ass and not leave a physical mark. See my mother and I saw things so very different and yet both sick enough to believe that each of us was right in her own moral convictions. And in the end although I was able to be with her in her last days of human suffering though my suffering continued.
Although I had not spoken to her in almost the 2 years previous to her passing there wasn't much time in which I did not think of her or wonder how her life was. We were so much alike in certain ways. In my drinking days I was living waiting to die, she did not need alcohol to dull her pain of living, she merely passed her time with her god, her bible, baseball and copious amounts of sugar. We all have our ways of escaping. I could not or would not see pass her imperfections or her lack of motherly love as I perceived it. Instead I came to her as a broken adult, expecting her to fix my battle wounds with motherly hugs and kisses and when my fantasy did not bore it fruition's, I resented her even further until my glass castle came shattering down around me. It was then I turned my back on her and her dysfunctional thinking, never stopping long enough to remember that she too may have suffered as the little girl pictured above, becoming what I too had. Funny we were more alike then I had ever imagined.
The day I received the phone call from my sister informing me of of the seriousness of her illness, my friend and confident spoke to me as I sat in waves of guilt and obligation-saying that the only possible way for me to return to her was to let go of those feeling of guilt and obligation and to have no expectations of what was to come or to be. I had done this picture a year and a half before this, I had wanted to honor her,for somewhere in that time of unbearable pain and suffering on my part I found a path for healing. Through art and the ability to see just how beautiful she and I both were. Both just wounded children wanting to be loved. And now I was going to bring it to her while she laid on her deathbed. I would love to say that when I got there that we had those amazing mother-daughter re connections, that I was able to present to her this work of love that we had created, but by the time I got to the hospital she was already starting to slip away and though she was not able to see what I had created for the both of us, I believe she knew in those 72 hours that I sat holding her hand that I had come to acceptance for what had been and what we were sharing. And really in the end we both did the best that we could.

"Two"
Two beautiful flowers soaking in the sun
Though different in appearance,
Wanted the same.
The pink Dalia with her tight spiral cones and pink white tips and yellow center
touching the yellow Dahlia with her open petals tinged with reds and pinks and her red center
Looking they saw how there centers mirrored each other
Seeing the beauty of just how different they were and yet the same
Not one more beautiful then the other
Just different
Yet both so very beautiful alone and together

"Looking through God's Veil"

Good Morning Seattle;
Grab you're sunscreen and sunglasses and head for the city, beaches, the parks or the mountains, wherever you go there you are in all of Washington's beauty. I forget until one of two things happens- either I get behind the lens and accidentally capture the essence of life and love or I fall in love with whatever. In this case however it was was falling in love behind the camera. You know the day was absolutely as beautiful as a day can get in Seattle. As I meander through downtown Seattle taking in all the sights,taking in the colors and the sounds of a busy city day, breathing in the salty air coming off the Puget Sound, it was hard to not just capture random shots. From the homeless trying to blend in with the buildings to the tourist taking in the same sights and sounds that I so often take for granted. At the heart of it all was I- trying to absorb the city's vibration. It felt so alive beneath my feet- with every step I took I absorbed it's life pulse through the souls of my feet and would feel it leave out of my breath, leaving me changed in small unaware ways. I got to Volunteer Park where it was hard to bypass the Asian Art Museum-after all it was absolutely beautiful outside-museums are for rainy days and I made my way to the Dahlia Gardens. I laid against my camera bag under a beautiful oak tree in the shade and gazed at the rampant colors of the flowers before me. To sit and cultivate patience is one of the many gifts I have received in my life today- to be able to sit and appreciate the beauty of these wonderful flowers as I had done so earlier with the many varieties of beautiful dahlia arrangements at Pike Place Market was another. As I closed my eyes I laid in silent contemplation hoping when I was 90 I could still come to this beautiful place, lay under the same beautiful oak tree and appreciate life in all it's splendor. As always when I am trying to capture the beauty and grace that I believe god has created I ask always for the gift to see the world or whatever it is that I am trying to see as if I were looking through god's eyes and to see it as the creative source always sees it. I believe in this instance I captured the very essence of what maybe perhaps god sees. if not then perhaps I got as close as I could to god's perfection on that beautiful September day in the park.

"Flash"

My fish had babies woo-hoo. I know what you're thinking Ziggy really needs to get a life- and yes it's true but on the other hand it is so cool to see little tiny babies just swimming on the bottom of their condo while dory (pictured on the left-mom) and nemo (dad) watch out carefully for their brood. If one of the little babies starts to flounder away mom or dad will gently scoop them up in their mouths and re-deposit them with their siblings. I wish my parents had been that good with me. Lately it feels like I am working on a lot of familiy of origin crap-like dosen't this shit ever go away- Being in recovery I suppose I am given plenty of opportunities to work on unwrapping the person typing before you're eyes. I sat and watched these precious little babies last night for a long time-seeing just how fragile their worlds are. Then looking at my life seeing the same thing-not so much as that my world is fragile but that my recovery is such a gift in navigating in this world. That at times yes my recovery is balanced precariously but as long as I continue to do the work stay connected to my creative source and continue to be the parents to myself that I never knew- then I too can continue to grow into a beautiful spirtual being having a human experience.