January 2020

	Some places stop time
1.1.2020

	Phylogons appear to initiate a cycle in a backyard in Hawaii, contracting emotions, arising thoughts, the ocean pushing together moments into a story, reality waiting to happen, and just at the critical moment the sun breaks through, the rain subsides, and the empty forms open once again into the breeze
1.2.2020

When my friend Earl emailed me about a week after Ram Dass passed away, I realized I hadn't processed the sad news - seeing in that pending grief a chance to be present when I was ready to let it move through. Today, after many chores I decided to sneak in a walk on the beach even though it had just rained and the sky threatened more. Halfway between Castles and Kalama beaches I turned to the ocean and looked up into a patch of bright blue sky to suddenly see it be flanked left and right by soft wide rainbows. Experiencing sun and clouds, color and gray, ecstasy and sadness, all mixed in the moment, I could only think about Ram Dass - who had lived just across the water on Maui, then and there expressing my gratitude for his courageous and influential life.

1.3.2020

	Layer upon layer
1.4.2020

	A morning spent following circuitous paths gave way to afternoon sun on the leeward side and sleeping on the beach near (but not too near) a monk seal
1.5.2020

	Contraction due to upcoming travel
1.6.2020

	Caught in a rain shower just after sunrise. Aloha Kailua!
1.7.2020

	Arriving home during a snow squall
1.8.2020

	Rivers and roads - finding my way back to the studio
1.9.2020

	Sitting in greyland, remembering the waves
1.10.2020

	Old habits returning quickly
1.11.2020

1.12.2020

	Ramping up production in the studio leaves me only a few opportunities for improvisational drawing... but I can't not draw! Despite the heavy schedule, I promise to share whatever arises each day because I want to give an honest account of my creative process and the drawing reflects so much about the moment it was drawn.
1.13.2020

I just started making marks at the drawing bee tonight (the prompt was: attention to transitions) and while noticing shifts in the thickness of the newly forming lines, a winter night landscape - like the kind outside of my studio, formed itself on the page. It's not about making things up, folks. It's about allowing them to happen. I guarantee you'll be pleasantly surprised every time you put pencil to paper and let go.

1.14.2020

	A moment of levitation in a day of stack building
1.15.2020

	A ritual cleaning of the studio - and quick drawing, while summoning the energy to start painting
1.16.2020

1.17.2020

1.18.2020

	Unquenchable thirst
1.19.2020

	The road is clear soon after a light snow
1.20.2020

	Thoughts appearing in the theater of insight
1.21.2020

	Flower seed Sleeping beneath the snow Dreams of becoming
1.22.2020

	Believing the mountain reaches the moon
1.23.2020

	The greater discourse on the full moon night
1.24.2020

	Just a finger pointing at the moon
1.25.2020

	Contemplating name and form
1.26.2020

	Prioritizing balance
1.27.2020

	Courting my muse
1.28.2020

	Dependently arising processes interacting
1.29.2020

	Awake in the middle of the winter, Awake in the middle of the night
1.30.2020

	Letting go of self, then letting go of what contains self
1.31.2020