A new beginning


I have been erratic with this bog, struggling with what to write and if I should write. It is a very big decision to put my words out publicly. It has not been easy, but here it is.

The writing wants to take over. The words are bubbling up and spilling out. There is no choice. I must let them flow.

What to write about. It’s not so much what, as much as where the writing is coming from. My heart wants to speak. The deepest, most spiritually connected place inside me wants a voice. The head has been chattering away for a long time. It thinks things out, gets all worked up just to find nothing is as it seems. Life is so much bigger, more expanded, connected, and intelligent than my small mind can ever perceive. Now it’s time to let my heart have control.

Life unfolds around me. I write about people, places and things and while I’m writing, I get to experience it all. How exciting is that. I get to experience the produce manager at Bristol Farms in Rancho Mirage. He stops rinsing off vegetables, the spray of water still in the air as he tells me about his wife, where they live and how he loves cooking. I met a man who tutors Math and is excited about his job. “I didn’t ever expect to be doing this,” he tells me over coffee in Ma Rouge, a local watering spot in Yucca Valley. I was invited to a cattle branding, met a cowboy and his family. That one experience opened a door to a world of cowboys — people who love horse, ranch for a living and have a unique point of view. I have interviewed a Baptist minister who believes that God made us all unique and we should embrace it. I interviewed a Franciscan Brother who knows there is always more to learn. I gave a ride to a woman who planted plastic flowers and I live in the desert. This is my life. This is what I will write about. Welcome to my world.

I am redoing this blog. The layout, the photos and the commitment to it, is all changing. Bare with me during this process. Keep coming back and checking in. It will be worth it.

During the next couple of weeks I will be posting my current and past travels. Traveling has meant so much to me. Meeting new people, seeing new places, even revisiting familiar sites. This current weekend I’m going to Atlanta to take a defensive driving class at the Scott Barber Racing school.

There are a lot of reasons for taking this class. I have a lot of fear when I drive and I do a lot of driving. It makes it stressful. How nice it is going to be to get comfortable with the vehicle that I spend so much time in. I have put 21,000 mile on a car that is not yet a year old. I’m not enough of a math person to figure out how many hours I have spent in my Jeep, but it’s a lot. I look forward to developing the skills that will make me a grounded, responsible and intelligent driver. We can use more of those on the road. That’s where I want to be.

I’m also looking forward to going back to Atlanta. After the driving class, which is in Braselton, Georgia, I will spend a day with a friend in the city. I went to Atlanta once in the early 80’s. I had meet a man on a film shoot and flew to Georgia to see where the relationship was heading. Nowhere. I came home alone. Now I will see Atlanta with a girlfriend after I have become a much better driver. How exciting is that.

Welcome to my world. You are invited to post comments and share links. Please come from your heart and share your joy.

Take heART,



Washington DC

Washington DC.

Bike tour – Washington DC


At 6:30 one night 20 people mounted bikes and rode through Washington DC past the Washington Memorial and the White House, stopping first at the Vietnam War memorial before going on to the World War II memorial, the Korean War memorial, the Martin Luther King Memorial and the Franklin Roosevelt Memorial.

We parked our bikes, locked them up to a bike rack and walked in two loose rows past the engraved names of 58,272 men and women who died in Viet Nam. The sidewalk followed a highly polished rock wall. The wall mirrored both the faces of the tourists and the etched names of those who had lost their life.


In my photograph of the memorial you can see the visitors. Many are looking ahead, some looking down. The bright green, reflective vests signaling out those on the bike tour I was on.

One young man looks toward the wall. I can see his face clearly in a photograph I took. He is too young to know anyone that died in that war. His parents would be the right age. They probably had friends and relatives who lost their lives. This young man with blond hair, looking intently at the names on the wall is too young to go to war. We were too young too.

New Mexico