Captains Log 3/2/2011
Ultimately, this is about the transfer of an engine. I have studied broadly and thoroughly, and now I am through. Academia was great, but I saw the climb through schooling (MFA Creative Writing Naropa University and BA Antioch College Self Designed Major- “Approaching Creativity Through Interdisciplinary Experience”) change from a raw mountainside to a plateau of slight and continuous decline. Stephen King said that he did some of his best writing when he was young, working at a laundromat washing the table clothes from lobster bars. When he became an English Professor, all his creative energy went to his legion of students. I saw this professor track arise in my graduating community. Time to leave this desert reality of precious rock and hot air. That's the thing about concocting realities, they dissolve with the simple breath of a decision. A new ecosystem awaits.
Saul Williams said, “…And our passions must be rationed until out rations sing along.” In life, first there is youth. It bust out of the ground like a seed in spring, everything is perfect. A hundred million youth test as genius at this point. It is the proceeding action of years that makes the difference in designing permanent identity. To do what everyone else is doing, or, make the backwards/sideways/up\down action, all so brilliantly available in the initial state of a young mind. Pure passion is forward movement. To spend my entire life on the couch watching movies and drinking would be to submit to the overwhelming passion of life, swallowed in as an absolute receiver. To ration passion, take but a little bit of fuel, enough to keep the fire happy, and build toward an actual resonance between what I have and what I love. This has been the goal and I call out now I open the door
Hail Dream Tree! I marry you with my day-hands.
I have found my visioned equilibrium, a ration source that’s core beauty is resonant to my arts study. It is time to transfer the engine heart of myself from academia to the cow pokes, pens, pins, and gardens of the infamous Hat Ranch.
What does this look like? I will not stay here, but I will lift from this land’s shape of magic a singular and strong dream tree. Designed by my father and built most by me, it is the ship of future action. North we say, North! Sail my sister and I to Portland Oregon. Here we will begin Hat People North. A second generation of hat makers. A dream tree set each weekend at the Portland Saturday Market (PSM) to sell our wears.
(let us speak of place again: inside, around us) wheres.
Hello new home of rain and beautiful people, culture and potential.
I have been in Portland for two days, my sister will be here in one month.
Soon my family will arrive to visit.
Together we will sell hats at PSM’s opening weekend.
Father and I waving from beneath these shimmer, hat filled branches.