Over the last several months, I have posted little or nothing. To say that feels like I have failed in ways that I don’t understand. Funny thing is that in the feelings of failure I have been writing more and doing even more photography. I have been to Calgary over the summer, and in November and December spent 3 weeks in the Philippines. My closest male cousin died suddenly, although expected. And in theSeasons of Christmas, Epiphany and now Lent, I was on the journey, feeling pulled, but unable to see the path. The last time this happened was in 1988 when I burned out. We have had unusually cold and snowy weather, reminiscent of growing up in North Dakota. Buses and subways weren’t running and there was no way I would try to drive. But for some unfathomable reason, I walked. Over the last several weeks, I walked. Walked over snowbanks and snow piles and ice banks. Walked in slush and over the last few days clean sidewalks.
In that simple change of my day, I could see why I wasn’t posting, why I felt overwhelmed and tired. To journey well is to recognize that your living is not do what you are expected to do, rather it is live your being in your doing.
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