We have watched security crumble,
we have seen homes stolen.
We were told we can buy the land,
but we know we can’t actually own it.

I’m screaming Back to the Earth, but no one’s listening.*
We build monuments to nostalgia on top of faults
and rely on our concrete cynicism to re-pour the foundation.
When I have enough money, I will be happy.

Racing toward a separation in the trail,
I will discover that unknown trail the best,
I will bike further,
I will catch the biggest damn fish you’ve ever seen.

Connected but competing,
Plugged in but zoned out,
We create beautiful digital fences with bottom line costs,
ignoring our neighbors rickety trailer.

You aren’t that fancy.
Digitized fear is still fear, it just costs more.

Tell your friends you are afraid of dying.
Tell your friends you are afraid of loving.
Tell your friends you don’t know where you are going.
Tell them you wish there was meaning somewhere.

Watch what fears hide in platitudes, reassurances, budgets, and school
Some, rebellious in spirit, will sit with you and pitch their tent,
knowing that time and love is all we need
to walk toward a new world, one we are capable of embracing.
(*Rusted Root Lyric)



Bliss, joy, happiness, and love all originate in Nature, something even the harshest materialist must agree with.

Nature is a primordial place in some of our hearts, although probably the remnants of thoughts from an inner reptilian brain. Some of our emotional experiences must have taken eons to create, but in their moment they can connect us back to something that continues to be regarded as outside of ourselves, the understanding of life.

Life grew through the gnarled branches and swirling tidepools of our past. Grew as much as it could under the glaring radiative sun.

Nature is soul. Through the primordial fountain of Nature, cosmic forces became concrete, belief had its first biological origin. Through the lens of our industrialized lives, Nature once again reflects her beauty inside of our sudden gasps of awe, breathlessness, and fright. She dares us to concur, to ascend, and triumph over the inexhaustible entropic fire of the cosmos. Life grew through Nature, and Nature’s beauty calls our razor edge ego to the design of life.

The Pacific Northwest is harsh. The cold ocean meets colder jagged mountains in the winter and rainy spring is quickly scorched with flame in the summer. She becomes a compass for our lives, the ways in which Nature pushes and pulls at our comfort. Some of us love it. It’s as if a great she-dwarf smithy was tempering our character with frozen pine needles and smoke, challenging us, “Be content!”