between here and there


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The Sound of Silence

The Tetons

The Tetons

Yes. It’s an over used phrase. Perhaps because we are still learning to practice silence. The truth that come from silence for us seems impossible to recognize in these days of constant buzz. I even struggle in the mountains of Montana. A week ago I was in Texas preparing to leave for Montana. The miles pass fast in a car at 75 mph. We arrive to anything but silence. The humm of our anxieties, the blurr of the road. Arrival. Leaving the last place a distant memory we cannot tie to our present. But here they are. The mountains standing against our travels, our anxieties, the unmoored condition of the my days, the loss of identity as we move somewhere between here and there. And if we could learn to practice silence, if we could recognize silence from within, perhaps then we would learn the sound of silence.

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A Dog’s Face

 

 

 

Noel, 36 hours or this...

Noel, 36 hours or this…

 

Dog’s know what they like. And they show us all the time. I am also impressed by their memory of places. My dog Noel travels a lot. Almost everywhere I go, she goes. After being in Louisiana for five months we made the journey home to the mountains. She happily hopped in the car when I loaded it for our trip. She thinks anywhere with me is better than staying put by herself. After 12 hours of driving she let me know how she felt (see the picture for yourself.)
The next day, more of the same. Driving. And then at the end of the day the landscape changed. About three hours from Jackson Hole she could smell the difference in the landscape. Could she recognize the distant peaks of the Wind River Range?

finally.

finally.

oh, yea. now this is home

oh, yea. now this is home

An hour from the Tetons she definitely knew where we were. Just take a look at the rest of the photos, shown in sequence. We arrived to Remote Studio and I unpacked while she sat on the table looking out the window.
The next day, under a beautiful blue spring sky, we took our first hike of the season. A place well known and loved by her, where leashes are packed away and the creeks flow abundantly with clear, cold water. Six miles of peace and joy! She remembers each side trail and every bush from her previous experiences. She knows her truth and she knows her place.

my place

my place