All in Due Time...

From my journal (this morning)…

The best story I’ve soaked in of late is my own. The gradual unfolding. The deeper I dive, listen, notice…I’m finding what’s been present all along. The answers to so many things…are contained within. I think we get caught up in the seeking, when the truest, most authentic us has been sitting, waiting for us (all along) to see…

All in due time…



As we race to the 2018 finish line…

Some thoughts on this and that.

I’m slowing down, but life isn’t.

My eyes aren’t what they used to be.

This year ushered in a set of bifocals.

My worries are the same most days. Is everyone OK? What needs to be paid?

I’m enjoying shoots more than ever.

The inner critic remains alongside for the ride, more animated than ever. I chalk that up to caring about delivering. When that voice goes, I’ll probably be not far behind it.

I’m slowing down, but life isn’t.

Every morning I write.

Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. It pairs well with coffee.

I wish I would have started a long time ago.

I’ve been doing push-ups daily for about a year, maybe more.

Good habits compound.

Our kids love each other most days.

They make us smile big one minute, scream the next.

Legos are still a big thing…as are Fort Nite and YouTube.

I’m slowing down, but life isn’t.

The calendar is full through the end of the year. Par for the course that I’ll miss one day.

Sara and I tag in/out more and more these days.

The EveryDay is good.

A backlog of edits loom.

The EveryDay is everything.

The edits make me appreciative.

I’m slowing down, but life isn’t.

The more I slow down, the easier and easier it is to focus.

…to create (and be of) value.

…to make a mark.

Perhaps it’s just the bifocals.



The Liquor Cabinet: Shoebox memories...

It's been raining for days and I can hear the cycling of our sump pump even in my sleep.

Restless kids, faced with keeping themselves occupied indoors... sometimes without devices [GASP]... struggle, cry, complain, sigh...

...and every now and again a surprise -- middle man reading to little man. 

When I was little, I'd find treasures like this photo in the liquor cabinet.  No, I wasn't searching for booze (yet) -- that came a few years later.  The liquor cabinet housed the bottles that my parent's won at bull roasts and never drank.  More about that some other time. Below the alcohol were a number of drawers/doors that stored a little of this and that -- treasures of all shapes and sizes...but most importantly, photos.

Prints were in.  I can remember riding in the car with my mom and picking them up (typically from a Kodak Fotomat kiosk in a parking lot or at K-mart). While my folks weren't really into albums...you could be sure to rifle thru years of memories, roll after roll of film (alongside their negatives) nestled in their original packaging...stored in shoeboxes.  Every now and again, you could find us on the sofa in the basement with those boxes alongside us...soaking in those everyday moments. Laughing. Reminiscing. Telling stories. 

Those were the days.

So are these.

Cheers to more shoebox memories...


From the Journal...

'SUNDAY - 7/15/2018 - 4:08PM - Back on the home front. It feels good but I feel different this time around returning from Maine. Realizing that the answers or 'holes' are answered from within. Too often I search/hope/pray for a lottery ticket courtesy of social media. All of my time spent there... which feels fruitful and honest... is perhaps a huge source of busywork and procrastination. I need to take the time and put in the effort to create more meaningful bodies of work. Dive deeper. Suppress the urge to share as frequently... so the work/words have time to develop and become more complex. Stick to the blog. Stick to The WaireHouse. Stick to writing. Stick to wrestling with the time/space I'm confronted with... and let the hands/phone remain idle. Let the brain drift. Listen more. Pause before answering/reacting. Listen more. Appreciate more. Do me... unapologetically. Edit the work. Sooner. Longer. Clear the plate to make room for the next meal/project/time with family. Waiting helps no one. Simultaneously I need to be slow, deliberate, patient. Let things flow at the pace it comes. Days/inspiration will vary. Good days. Bad days. Roll with them. This vacation has changed me. Hopefully for the better. The family needs me at my best. Back to the grind tomorrow.'

from the journal 07 15 2018-1.jpg