The other day I asked a photographer how she has the confidence to carry a camera with her everywhere and photograph people. I will remember her answer for the rest of my life. “The important thing,” she says, “is not to let your shyness get in your way. The thing about photography is that it throws you into direct contact with life, and that can be scary at times, but if you want to do the photography you want to do, there is simply no way about it except to go out bravely and shoot.”

I picked up my guitar for the first time in a week and learned about time signatures and the F chord. I’m having trouble with this chord, but I know I’ll get better with practice. I know I won’t get anywhere if I’m afraid of failure. Is not all art a tribute to the artist’s battle with fear? A testament to their bravery?

I remember how much my fingers hurt when I first started playing my guitar. I also remember how badly my chords sounded. If I had stopped then, I never would’ve developed the callouses on my fingertips that made it easier to play, and I never would have experienced the joy of producing my own music. That, in itself, is an act of bravery I will always be grateful for.

One day in high school, a teacher of mine went around his class and asked my classmates what they would be if they weren’t human. “My dog,” someone said. “A camera,” said another. “A bird,” I said. He asked me why I wanted to be a bird, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. “Because I want to fly far away,” I said. That tinge of disappointment made me feel bad then, like I lacked the imagination those around me seemed to have. He didn’t press me any further, and I haven’t thought of that moment until now.

Last year I read Jenny Odell’s How to Do Nothing, and in it she describes her journey toward slowing down and noticing the things around her. “When I travel,” she says,

I no longer feel like I’ve arrived until I have “met” the local bioregion by walking around, observing what grows there, and learning something about the indigenous history of that place (which, in all too many places, is the last record of people engaging in any meaningful way with the bioregion). Interestingly, my experience suggests that while it initially takes effort to notice something new, over time a change happens that is irreversible. Redwoods, oaks, and blackberry shrubs will never be “a bunch of green.” A towhee will never simply be “a bird” to me again, even if I wanted it to be. And it follows that this place can no longer be any place.

I took this picture of an osprey flying around her nest near my school, and I’ve felt this connection to her and to the wildlife around me that I’ve never truly experienced before. When I was a firefighter, I felt this connection to the land that I mostly kept in my periphery. Like so many things in my life, it has stayed there while I focus on the trivialities that make modern life so mundane. Most everything I’ve ever experienced has stayed in my periphery, and what I want to do is to slow down and notice the things around me.

I went on Wikipedia and learned that ospreys are piscivores. Her nest is between the Ninepipes reservoir to the east and the Flathead River to the west, so she has food aplenty. I saw her chicks flying around the nest for a bit and then flying back, her gaze motherly and loving. I heard her sing as she flew around. She is no longer just “a bird” to me, but a mighty osprey.

What else is out there that I haven’t seen or paid attention to? How many different species of birds are within my radius? Of insects? Of living souls in general? We share this world with so many living beings, but how many of us ever truly connect with them?

As I went to smell the flowers, I saw this little guy enjoying the sun and running around his leaf. I want to believe he was happy on the pure beauty of existence, with no worries about food or friends or shelter. He was so small that I almost didn’t see him. How small are we in comparison? Existing on a blue marble floating in the inky blackness of space?

One day this will all end, and the question I ask myself is whether it was worth it. The answer seems to change every day, but maybe I can learn something from this little guy and enjoy the simple fact that I exist. Maybe that’s enough.

I spent time with new friends yesterday, and they showed me a good time. I had a lot of fun following this guy around the flowers, and I hope to do more of this on a regular basis. I’ve found a new love, and that makes me happy.

My thoughts have been dwelling too much on the macro level and not enough on the micro. There’s a lot to learn and discover right here in my own backyard, and I hope to spend more of my time in that world than in the world of sensational headlines and grim statistics. At least my governor has finally made face masks a requirement in counties with over four confirmed coronavirus cases.

My goal now is to slow down and smell the flowers.

On the latest episode of The Last Archive, Jill Lepore talks about Rachel Carson and her book, Silent Spring. That book helped ban DDT, saved countless birds, and started the modern environmental movement. Jill then asks whether a book like that can change the world today. Since 1970, three billion birds have died in North America. If that’s not heartbreaking, then I don’t know what is. Oh wait.

I read Silent Spring a few years ago, and what I remember most about it was this feeling that little had changed since the time she wrote it. I went back through my notes and found this passage talking about the effects of pesticides that remains heartbreaking:

Scientific observers at Sheldon described the symptoms of a meadowlark found near death: “Although it lacked muscular coordination and could not fly or stand, it continued to beat its wings and clutch with its toes while lying on its side. Its beak was held open and breathing was labored.” Even more pitiful was the mute testimony of the dead ground squirrels, which “exhibited a characteristic attitude in death. The back was bowed, and the forelegs with the toes of the feet tightly clenched were drawn close to the thorax…The head and neck were outstretched and the mouth often contained dirt, suggesting that the dying animal had been biting at the ground.”

By acquiescing in an act that can cause such suffering to a living creature, who among us is not diminished as a human being?

COVID-19 has killed 137,000 Americans. Many of us think this virus is a hoax or a government conspiracy. Meanwhile, Americans will continue to die while we refuse to wear a fucking mask. “By acquiescing in an act that can cause such suffering to a living creature, who among us is not diminished as a human being?”

Battled more headaches yesterday, but I found relief in aspirin and writing in my notebook. A couple from Texas moved in next door recently, and they have been playing their TV deep into the night, keeping me from my sleep and my weird dreams. I dreamt there was a shootout beyond the fence of my home, and I stared out my bathroom window as the shooters hid in a doghouse and disappeared in the dark abyss. I then dreamt I befriended the couple from Texas, and we had breakfast together. I woke up to M83 and a light head.

A majority the world has denied Americans access to their countries, deeming my passport worthless. I wasn’t planning on traveling anytime soon, but it feels embarrassing that I can’t because I’m an American under the rule of an orange idiot who doesn’t care about the health of his citizens.

I have this map pinned to my wall, and it’s always in my line of sight. I put it up years ago because I’ve always had this urge to travel, but I never have because I’m the best at making up excuses. I’ve been expanding my walls slowly, taking baby steps here and there, but I’m not where I want to be. What I find sad is the fact that I’m ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’m a minimalist. I don’t need much to be happy. I’ve spent time and money reducing my possessions to the essentials, enough to survive many situations with my main backpack. If I grab my bag, start my engine, and drive away somewhere, I can survive and be happy for a few days. But I don’t because I’m scared and I don’t know how to fix that.

I spent the weekend indoors, and I feel like I wasted it. I feel guilty and ashamed, and I wish I was better about my time and my confidence to leave my home and explore the world. I’m 34, and I feel like I’ve wasted my whole life.

Last night I drank beer from a can with the word death and a skull on it. So I had a good night. I was able to write a rough draft of an idea for my new book that I’m happy with. It’s an ambitious idea and it scares me, but if it’s not tough, then it’s not worth doing, right? Unfortunately, I had to wake up feeling like death this morning to get there.

Florida reported over 15,000 confirmed coronavirus cases on Sunday, and the US is on track to record over 200,000 deaths by election day. Confirmed cases of the virus in my county have more than doubled since the beginning of July, and I continue to see people at stores without masks on. Our school conducted a survey asking our staff whether masks should be required when or if school resumes, and almost half of the staff say it’s not required. I saw this picture in a story I read in the New York Times that broke me. I read another article that described the US as the world’s largest experiment in herd immunity. I found out today that a former friend’s mom died a few nights ago.

I feel helpless. What does it say about me that I find so much relief in a liquid housed in a can with a skull and the word death on it?

I drove back on Nine Pipe Rd with my new lens and snapped a few shots of geese and the mountains, and I came away both impressed and inspired. My camera can capture the world in a new way, and I want to keep shooting to see what else I can see. Unfortunately I won’t be able to this weekend because I have to write. I’m working on a new book idea, and I have to write it down to figure it out. I’m all but abandoning my last book because that mountain is one I no longer wish to climb. One of my problems is that I take too long to write my stories. My life changes too fast to stick with an idea I’m no longer interested in or have evolved away from, and these changes change the soul of the story enough that I always start over before I ever finish the original idea. It’s a problem, and I need to fix it.

My new lens arrived yesterday. It’s Fuji’s XF80mm Macro lens, and it’s great. I need to get used to the new focal length, but I can already see some fun uses for it. I’m excited!

I learned a new joke yesterday:

Knock knock

Who’s there?

Armageddon.

Armageddon who?

Armageddon tired of all your bullshit.