From the South Coast of Turkey to Phoenix’s South Mountain; from Joshua Tree National Park to Red Rocks State Park, Nevada, I have been fortunate to enjoy a tremendous three months of climbing.

Not just climbing, no, but ample time on rock to remain physically strong and spiritually engaged. I entered a gym just a few times, and found renewed passion for the out-of-doors.

I pressed hard, completing problems which had eluded me countless times before. I tried new problems, both succeeding and failing. And I worked through routines which my hands and feet traversed without eyes. The silence and solitude of sitting atop a boulder can be as strength building as the effort to obtain that position.

There were painful moments when too much skin detached from my fingers too fast. And there were elated moments when what felt impossible became possible, even repeatable, the internal wiring of my body-mind forging new pathways which replaced, “I don’t know if I ever will …” with “I can!” and “I did!”.

There were afternoons in which I was surrounded by a multitude of people followed by evenings in which I was alone in my tent. The rain and snow reminded me that the most cherished things in life are often the simplest: warm, dry clothes, nourishing food, and a safe place to sleep. Nearly every night in J-Tree I took long walks seemingly alone but for the coyotes celebrating the rise of the moon over the desert mountain ridges.

During my second trip to J-Tree, I was in the presence of Bennett Scott and Rob Miller, each a master of climbing in their own regard; each climbing from a place of personal power. Most memorable were the intense, stimulating, and truly opening conversations we carried while piecing together Diary of a Dope Fiend high on a shaded ridge. I came away from that time with an improved understanding of the potential in climbing, and a renewed passion to fulfill that understanding with my own ability.

Of course, there was laughter. A lot of laughter. That’s the stuff that binds the entire experience, a funny sort of glue that gives memorable form to the otherwise discombobulated string of events.

Thank you Fulden, Jae, Mom & Dad, Luke, Matt & Adele, Ben, Rob, Mike and Steve. It was a good three months, a good time for climbing.

I was pleased to have the opportunity to once again be engaged by this year’s Native American Hoop Dance competition held at the Heard Museum in Phoenix, Arizona. This astounding event is rich in history, honor, energy, and creativity. If ever in Phoenix in February, I highly recommend you attend. It’s like nothing you have ever seen … or heard before.

East Bay Redwood Park, a photo essay
I enjoyed a brief walk on the main trail which circumnavigates East Bay Redwood Park, Oakland, California, from the Skyline drive staging lot to the Chabot Space & Science Center.

Along the path I stopped to take a few photos (above). In the following I share some of my thoughts for why I captured these, and how they affect me. All were shot on a Nikon D50 with a Nikon 18-55 lens.

In general, the overcast sky between 3 and 5 pm was ideal, presenting limited shadows and an even, ambient light which encouraged the colors to pop. All photos were altered in post, mostly to remove some blue in order to present the photos more as they appeared to me.

moss-2 and 3: I never tire of photographing moss. It doesn’t try to run away. Moss presents a rich texture often wrapped around a surface, offering a dynamic color gradient. The right-most of the two shots is turned -90 degrees as I really like how the dark background sits heavy over the green, as though the two are in battle for the light.

cone: I found this still-life composition along the trail. I knelt in the wet needles and mud and shot this for nearly ten minutes until I felt I had found the right distance and angle. I enjoy the contrast of the texture of the three media: lichen, needles, and pine cone. The color was enhanced a bit beyond that which I perceived on the trail, my effort to reveal the hidden reds which are otherwise lost in what we too readily refer to as a green arena.

bear: Hey, it looks like a bear’s face. I couldn’t help myself :)

flowering: These flowers are just now popping, maybe one in twenty. Very complex structures up close, which work to remind me how much of high school life sciences I have forgotten. To say I recall more than the word “stamen” would be a lie. But what I intended, and did capture, is a very limited amount of material in focus against a backdrop of artifacts created by a short focal length (4.5fs, 30/s, ISO 800).

exposed, fallen-1 … 3: In these three shots I found varying degrees of tree “flesh”. The left-most “exposed” is a healthy, living tree whose bark has peeled back, revealing the hard wood beneath. But it appears to have oosed from some incredible pressure, and if it were not wood, should be soft and gooey.

The middle two are a portion of a massive tree which fell quite recently. Both of these reveal a very vulnerable yet living tissue, the meat of the monster which seems too large, too strong to have toppled. While I have walked passed, climbed on, even climbed into many fallen trees, it never quite feels right. I am reminded that we will all fall, and could fall any day–young, healthy, and vibrant.

“fallen-2” is the most interesting to me for had I simply shown this to you, without explanation, would you know it was wood?

The right-most (fallen-3) is from a place just below and to the left of where the trunk snapped and split, the bark nearly meeting the exposed flesh. It is rich in color and contrast, the overlapping plates of bark a barrier to so many potential attacks, but not against gravity. Gravity always prevails victorious.

leaves and leaf: Two very different kind of leaf structures. One nearly silver and flat; the other dynamic, flawed, and in a state of change. It seemed that if I held the leaf for just a few minutes more I would witness its further decay or spontaneous combustion into brilliant flame.

Today I had the pleasure of meeting two most note worthy people: Hugh Downs and James Alexander.

My brother Jae of BallBoy Productions works with the Phoenix Children’s Museum, a place for play and interactive learning. Today I assisted him with the interview of Hugh Downs, formerly of the evening news program 20/20.

While our time with Mr. Downs was not extensive, there was a distinct honor in meeting him. His face, his voice, his demeanor were all of a man whose endeavors in life have given him a certain presence, and being in that presence for just a moment was an honor.

Thank you Mr. Downs for sharing your voice.

This afternoon SpanAfrica co-Director Brad and I enjoyed an extensive conversation with James Alexander, a gentleman who has devoted twenty six years of his life working through not-for-profits to help people in need. He met his wife in the Peace Corp, both his children were born Africa where he lived for twenty one years, and even now he continues to devote his life to a similar line of work.

Last year Mr. Alexander was a recipient of the Nelson Mandela Freedom, Peace and Unity Award from the African Alliance of Rhode Island, a means of honoring the incredible work he has done.

Even by means of a less than clear phone connection, he instilled a sense of power, peace, and trust through his words. I found that when the call was complete, I desired to meet him, to travel with him, to learn from him, for the vision he imparts is not that of a need for electricity or running water for individuals, rather the needs of entire regions in order that the people as a whole may rise to a higher level. Mr. Alexander understands how to work with people, to raise their capacity as nation.

Thank you Mr. Alexander for sharing your vision.