Mount Vernon beneath the wing, we round the corner and head up the Potomac River. Finely manicured, unassuming grandeur, defining the landscape without a thought of competition or ostentation…the sort of essence that is willed into existence at the confluence of time, place, innate good taste, and a commitment to pursue an idea. The light fades as we complete our descending turn and our thoughts of refined and dignified ideals are consigned to the lengthening shadows, leaving us with ghostly feelings of our own lacking.
Far below the aerial horizon, we rest in safe harbors and face ourselves, questioning our resolve to lift our heads to chase the horizon…Do we have the fortitude to bear the discomfort and uncertainty of giving ourselves over to a journey? In the calm of the harbor we see our reflections on the water and the sea begins to absorb us. In so doing, our images, voices, and spirits diffuse and intertwine, surrounding us with some intangible sense that we are part of something bigger…It is the soul of inspiration…In a few short days, an old friend of mine will depart San Diego on a “voyage of inspiration”…he will be assisting his friend, a true adventurer, Hiro Iwamoto in his quest to sail across the Pacific Ocean non-stop on his sailboat, Dream Weaver. Hiro is blind, but the immensity of his vision is awe-inspiring…He is making the voyage to send a message to the world that “anything is possible when people come together.” Please visit his blog Voyage of Inspiration 〜全盲ヨットマン、夢と希望の航海〜 and follow his journey. And while you are there, consider supporting Dream Weaver’s causes of: preventable and curable blindness; enabling those facing challenges; and citizen science.
Safe Voyage, Dream Weaver.
[A Retrospective] An individual spark starts a small fire…a small light, barely visible, its smoke rising into the air between us in small curling wisps. These seemingly insignificant smoke signals seem to vanish in the air above us and fade into memory…From above, we look down upon a thousand such sparks as they each kick up smoke and ash onto the breeze…What was once small and insignificant, now, appears as a firestorm covering the earth as the combined effect of each little spark alters the atmosphere that surrounds us. No act occurs in isolation, whether grand or small, good or bad, thought or deed, the effects of our actions and interactions are all of ours to share.
Stop for a moment and listen to the morning breeze as it flows across the landscape…Sometimes it’s different, a harmony amid flat tones, a signal to pay attention, engaging and enveloping, a call from across time. Sourceless music emerges from silence as though the radiance of a sundog appearing in a dark shadowy sky. Discerning this radiance, aural or visual, is the essence of perception.
A dear old friend passed from the earth yesterday…An enlightened soul, she saw signs and connections, and paid close attention when a an unfinished song lingered on the wind yearning for completion…She was the embodiment of a sundog mysteriously radiating light in a darkening sky…she projected and shared her energy, leaving us awestruck as if bathed in the light of a brilliant sunset…her light now lingers on the horizon and her song now drifts upon the breeze.
[A Retrospective] An old friend lost a child, a tsunami swept a village out to sea, and an entire species teetered on the brink of extinction…meanwhile another life was saved, we caught a glimpse of interstellar space, we dreamed a few good dreams, and the sun touched a face from out of the darkness and brought it hope….All the foretelling in the world could not prepare us for the joys and sorrows that we simultaneously feel each day, but watching the sky as the soft morning light slowly creeps over the horizon, we can stop to imagine how it illuminates us all indiscriminately. We all experience that which the other experiences, each in our own way…We can be like the light, washing over each other, pushing back the shadows, sharing in one another’s sorrow and joy, and letting each other know that no one is alone.
[A Retrospective] When one’s home is graced by surrounding splendor, it is difficult to imagine a moment without distraction…constant sensory infusions of the spirit of earth…the subtle voice of the landscape inviting us to communion. We spend our days traveling over such magnificent scenes, but often fail to hear the call, to engage with the landscape, to honor the earth as we wrap ourselves in all too common concerns of work, time, and stress with our window shades drawn and our senses dulled by electronic distractions…casting off our self imposed distractions and opening our eyes to the world around and beneath us, we open our hearts and imaginations to mingle with the wonders that await.
[A Retrospective] In the quiet of the evening sky, something emerges that leaves me begging for more…The scene is set in a place of solitude; it may be one’s vision of heaven or it may simply be that place where the chill of a great universe scintilates and penetrates our skin, overcoming us, leaving us, not shivering but, quaking with a sense of the unfathomable greatness of which we are a part…The languid movements of light through the atmosphere, lazily and effortlessly rolling in and out, touching elements that are defined in our world, illuminating those things which we otherwise would fail to percieve…This is the story of “Quiet” and Light is the animator.
[A Retrospective] Everyone perceives a slightly different aesthetic in the setting sun. Perhaps it’s the amorphous nature of clouds or the rapidly shifting spectrum of visible light…Flashes of color painting the sky, illuminating the dust and vapor, subtly changing as the sun slips toward the horizon.