Category Archives: Postcards

Letters from abroad, from home, from within.

Postcards from Punakaiki 

A postcard is a small picture with a letter on the back. Short, about a place, personal, but not hidden. My postcards are a little longer, I tend to ramble, I use my own pictures, and they’re usually a little sad cause I’m feeling lonely or lost.

These are my Postcards from Punakaiki

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Absence

Things are missing. We lose them or leave them behind. People, places, objects. We become absent, from others, from ourselves.

Here I am again. Finding this space like encountering an old empty house and opening the door to find… emptiness. The windows are all broken, a light breeze floats through, paint is peeling and no one’s been here for a while. What was I expecting? I’ve been gone. 

I will have to rebuild things, again. Clean house, fix the windows, build a desk, a place to work. 

Not only have I been absent, but somehow it seems like the absence started from within me. I haven’t been writing, which, in some ways, feels like I haven’t been thinking. 

I’ve felt it occasionally, trying to edge back into my life, the spark of an idea like a hot ball of electricity right at the top of my spine. But I’m not here, not ready to receive it, and it cools, subsides, dissolves, and I’m left to hope that it somehow collects inside of me so I can find it later. 

Where have I been? Nowhere special. Present mostly. Just soaking it in, chasing the easy highs, a little wind in the face, an open summit, music. 

Here I am again. Ready? Willing. Because I know it is my responsibility to be here, to do work, to not wait for the inspiration, to not rely upon it. So I rebuild, like tearing apart my childhood room, moving the bed and the dresser and finding a new poster and feeling reborn. A fresh space, or at the least a fresh perspective. 

Because it’s kind of like waking up, returning from the absence. I get to rediscover, reinvent. I forgot some things, which is good, learning is good but forgetting is important too. 

I think that’s it. For whatever reason it needs to be said, established, that I’m “back”. Reclaiming this space and trying, like my childhood self, to make it reflect me a little better. This time my bed will face this way, my books can go here, and I’ve got a big, thick, wooden table for my new projects. 

It already feels better here, feels good to be back. The guilt from my absence abating. Perhaps that’s it, why I need to declare, to make peace with my absence, to cut down all the expectations and apprehensions that took hold while I was gone, to make a start, and prove to myself that it doesn’t need to be perfect, or beautiful, or have a meaning, or an end. 

The Evolution of an Approach.

I’m home. Or as close to it as I can really get. What is home for anyone really – where you live? Where you are alive? Too many cliches about your heart or your hat… For the past week I’ve been with family and more than anywhere else, this feels like home. It’s not the place, the place is familiar in that visceral and sometimes oppressive way that where you grow up can be. No, home is family, it’s that bedrock of strength and support that is unwavering, that without, you become truly homeless. It’s the place you call or scamper to when you’re in trouble, it’s the people you call on when you need help, or return to when they need you.

Home is where you go to reconnect with the person you were, the one who helped make you who you are today. It’s been a little over a year since I’ve been here, that’s about my rotation, and with all the movement and change my life has seen in the past year, coming home is in so many ways just what I needed. A chance to check in with myself, my history, my present and future, to offer support and presence, to gather ideas and encouragement for the way forward. A lot has changed in the practical and emotional ways I live and experience life this last year, and taking a moment to better understand and appreciate what is happening has helped me take advantage of this momentum to keep my life moving in what I hope to be a positive direction. Is it? Well, only time will tell, but you may as well judge too. The approach is changing. Continue reading

Behind The Scenes.

How many times have I thought about this place, considered its purpose, its import to me, and to you. How many sentences I’ve started, how many topics touched on. How many more have I thought of, rolled around in my mind only to let them dissipate like a clearing fog. There are so many things I want to share, but my temperament and aptitude prohibit me from offering anything less than what I deem perfect, despite the fact that when I finally do, it is. This is a journal, yet one that has been cultivated, curated, and curtailed to fit an ideal, or at least to be pushed in a direction. Yet it is still just a journal, and my beliefs, my ideals and values bleed into every word published. It is my journal.

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Resurrection

I’ve been absent from this place for some time now.  Over the course of the last year my life, and this project, have under gone some pretty drastic change and, quite honestly, I’m still struggling to understand the why, how, and what it means for moving forward.  But every day brings new light as they say, and I continue to discover lessons and old wisdom that helps me understand.  I don’t know what all this change means for the Nature of Motion, or even myself, but when I re-examine the mission, when I am reminded of all our adventures, challenges, discoveries, the style and satisfaction of our travel, I am heartened and inspired.  Really, I just want to get back on the damn bike.

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Human, Power.

Humans are not machines, we are not dull, boring, or thoughtless. We are just the opposite, full of questions, creativity, and insight. And most importantly, humans are fallible; we make mistakes, we fail, we hit walls, and are forced to overcome challenges, both physical and emotional.

Human power, and its place in travel and adventure is analogous to the human condition, which is our need to learn, explore, and discover. We seek to understand our limits, and we grow when we must overcome them.

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Winter’s Shadows.

Traces, shadows, ripples, remains…  Each moment has it’s immediate impact as well as another that can be felt long after.  Some things we work hard to forget, while other times it seems no matter how hard we try we can never remember something exactly as it was, or how we wished it might have been.  Moments compound, time shrinks and memories expand to encompass a miriad of emotions, thoughts, and experiences.

When the winter comes a better part of me becomes lost to the world.  My job, my location, my state of mind, all become focused on my immediate surroundings and the tasks at hand.  Try as I might to catalogue, to remember, to share, so much is wrapped together and buried under layers of snow.  This season’s memories might not be buried quite as deep under that immaculate blanket of white, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t just as many.  Time has a way of getting away from you, and while sometimes you’re the one out ahead, more often we’re playing catch-up while continuing to push forward.  It’s been a little while but I’m very pleased to have a moment to look back with you on a season some have been calling the worst.  Personally I’ll need more evidence than a few numbers and some dirt patches, because when I look back on these pictures, they tell a different story, I think you’ll agree.

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