How, how is it that life is so incredible? Mountain highs and valley lows, all in one epic hike. One moment the trail kicks the shit out of you, the next someone is helping you up that steep incline. How can life begin and end simultaneously? How can I feel searing grief and giddy hope at the same moment in my time? So many associations are filing into my head now - the simple act of walking: one foot forward into hope, one foot left back in grief. Same body, same direction, same intent for life.

Pretty ladies, boys and ice cream

Dylan Thomas, Emily Dickinson, The Black Keys, pencil and pen, sketchbook, pretty ladies, boys and ice cream - all my friends today as I tried to soothe myself after visiting my father this afternoon in the hospital. And surprisingly, I was able to make a drawing, a good one. What a sweet, small gift! Maybe my hands remember how after all. I've been so critical and discouraging of those hands. When they don't perform, I get angry - even though I know I haven't exercised my drawing muscles in ages. It's certainly a skill that must be used and used and used, in order to maintain and hopefully, improve drawing skill.

I know this blog has fallen by the way side, but I'm not feeling guilty over it. It serves its purpose when need be. And hey, who reads this stuff anyway?