Living The Lorax

After a nice hike in a local state park early this morning, I'm heading out back with a fresh cup of coffee to work on my Lorax wood carving. The sun is shining. Hazah!

Need to Breathe

I scream in my head while I do pull ups. The walls of this planet seem to be closing in on me. No air. I need to get to the mountains so I can breathe again. Maybe now the time is right to make the necklace. "THE" bear claw has been resting in my medicine pouch for years. I've been afraid of doing anything with it. I wanted to make a necklace out of it when I received it but was afraid of offending the bear. Somehow I think it's OK now. Maybe I should dig a hole in my chest with it. I think I should take it to "Wilderness" and meditate on it. I need to run through the forest and let the branches tear at my skin. I'm dying here. A fish gasping for air.

The Lorax

Walking through a recently logged forest with the idea of finding some cool "unwanted" logs, we found some beautiful pieces. Who better to carve out of a tree than The Lorax? And who better to carve it than me,  the Hurdy Gurdy man, singing songs of love? Of course now I need a chainsaw, and that is how I will die. Which is fine.

Soon.....

...the crow speaks of him to the wind ,the tall prairie grasses bow to the eastern sky, long ago warriors starting to gather on the plains, the heavens beat the eternal drum, chickadees dance through the trees following his music....closer still....



....in my mind I see "Big Medicine" he has undertaken a long and dusty journey, the sun is at his back as the breeze blows back his hair, rock and tree smile as he walks past, he has seen many miles, a buffalo pouch tied to his back, in it he carries "The Flute", my flute, he is bringing it to me, I am humbled....I will bring it to the top of "The Mountain" and hear it's wisdom...and become... The Universe

The Keeper Of The Drum

A special, unannounced, gift arrived today. I was presented with The Native American Drum. I've been given the incredible honor and responsibility to be the drum keeper for our family. I know this isn't to be taken lightly,and it wont be.  I've been given the ability to speak with our ancestors as well as become one with the spirit of the drum. The drum itself is a living being, uniting the spirits of Cedar, Elk, and the very universe itself.  It is life and death.  I'm a little overwhelmed by this.  Each gift that "Big Medicine" gives me takes me to a higher and higher plane. I am very small medicine but I give these gifts Great Honor. This drum along with the meeting of Ed Webster must be a sign to head for the High Country in solitude and let fly my spirit.



Ed Webster

Saturday I got to meet Ed Webster, one of the worlds greatest mountaineers. He was signing books at the Kittery Trading Post and, totally by chance, we stopped in.  I had the amazing opportunity to talk to him about some of his adventures. I also bought his new book, Snow in The Kingdom.  He signed it and wrote a page full of kind words to me. A wonderful, humble gentleman and a true mountain man. Thanks Ed.

The Best!

English Bulldog Drawing

This 19x24 drawing took me about 20 hours to complete!

Sean Bean Drawing

Winter is Coming

I've been working on a giant drawing for about three weeks now. It still has a long way to go.

English Bulldog Drawing

I've been working on this one for about 20 hours. I'm trying to get a good photo of it but no matter what I do it doesn't come out white enough.

Shopping For Ink

Mountain Man

boring........

The split second I stop doing something, I mean the very second the tool or whatever leaves my hand, I get so overwhelmingly bored (or whatever the feeling is) that I want to take a machine gun to my temple. I was just outside doing some work, listening to good music enjoying myself in the sun, power tools and stuff...all good....feeling that life can't get better. I'm outside my workshop and I have a kung-fu staff propping open the door, and everytime I look at it I want to grab it and start smashing and thrashing and stabbing stuff with it. Not playing around. I mean full life or death anger type stuff. At the same time I'm enjoying my work really digging the block of Crosby, Stills and Nash thats cranking on the radio. One second I'm like "I'm so beautiful...dandelions make me cry" then the next second I want to ram my hand into the running table saw and I'm not even in a bad mood.

The Hummingbird

I was working in a middle school today and as I was walking through the front door something on the ground caught my eye. At first I though it was a huge dead moth, but upon getting a closer look I discovered that it was a hummingbird. A poor little dead hummingbird. It was right by the front entrance. She must have flown into the glass. There were lots of people doing work at the school with many different renovation projects going on. People were going in and out of the door constantly, I wondered if anyone else had seen the bird. Every time I would walk past the bird I would say something to try and comfort the dead bird, also saying to myself that I needed to pick up the bird and find a proper resting place for it. There was a garden path that a man and his daughter were fixing up, pulling weeds and planting flowers, as the day went on I came to realize that this was to be the bird's final resting place. So when it was time to go, and no one was looking, I dug a hole in the garden with my claw hammer and gently picked up the tiny hummingbird and place her in her grave and buried her. A nice pretty spot where she can watch all the kids as they come and go from school.