Piggy @ the Doggy Hop!

she was stylin' in the parade!



celebratin' @ the Monkey Wrench!

Recent Pics - Rehearsing in the Park

me.







nick.



trevor.



jack.

we were all playing in the park-- trying to write. :)

Pig In Pearls

Getting ready for the Doggy Hop!

Waves

another original... inspiried be re-discovered video from a trip to the beach last summer...

Waves

Mornin' Dreamin'

...something random that squeaked out this morning... thanks head and nikolai for the inspiration.

Mornin' Dreamin'


peace.

Shoulder

something else squeaked.

Shoulder

Squeak....

grandma

a labour of love. for my grandma, emily rhea davenport.

Grandma



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sustained silence.

I overheard a conversation the other day. A question was seemingly posed by this man to this woman. He asked her, "What is it that most holds you back or what challenges your freedom?" Her response, without the slightest of hesitant sighs was, "The fear of remaining alone."

He probed a bit more with his question, trying to root out the cause of this instinctive response in her. Clearly to him, it was an unexpected revelation. He wanted to know what it was that troubled her so deeply that this fear was able to take hold and reside. For on the outside, the very notion of her being 'alone' was hard to digest. How could that be?

For he had known her to be strong, self-assured, assimilated and completely functional in the very world that she had created. He saw no mis-steps or mis-takes or mis-fortune. He saw only her deliberate steps, takes and certain fortunes all around.

Why was it that the idea of being alone haunted her so? He asked her again, why it was that she felt these things- this abandoned soul's journey. He was aching to now know.

She stepped back into her thoughts and relived the answer she had just given. She could not place a moment in time where she ever truly felt as if there was no one that she could turn to if that moment of need arose, but clearly, the patterns of her past were painting the picture of her restless heart's spirit waiting for that last spin of the wheel and the pistons to stop firing upon the notion that she was really alone.

And yet, her mind still shuffled with the question, daring the answer to come out, surface and rear its head in defiance of the very asking. It was a devil that sat quietly on her shoulder-- happiest in the moments of her insecure solitude. But her heart was crying out to be joined and to join in the playful time with others. To share in that communal consumption of fruit and passion- yet it had always escaped her fingertips and that devil laughed. Oh, he laughed.

She looked up at the man, swearing in her mind that he was that devil-horned-dog, serving this painful, soulful inquisition and realized... realized in that very moment, that she was no longer alone. Whether or not he was her devil was of no bearing on the immediate need of this searching and finding. Her mind paced feverishly with her heart and for once it cascaded into a silence, filled only by her own breath. Her own life-blood.

For someone was listening and hearing. Someone was on this journey with her, now participating in each delicious step. She did not recognize the silent gift of his listening ears. And to have his question answered, so purposefully, in her time.

But while he was listening, all she craved was a sustained silence.