AutoBiographique

I have been creating stuff – writing words, taking pictures, making videos – for a number of years now, without really knowing why. It never felt like a question I needed to answer. It felt good to do it. And sometimes I would share my musings with friends and family via email, or put up some multi-media story on my website for all to see, but there was never any thought to what more it could be.

I have been writing for going on 5 years now. I have photos and video from longer, and much more so in recent times. There is enough material now, I wonder if I could write my own autobiography of sorts? I haven’t really heard of any autobiographies that end at age 23 because the author caught up to himself…maybe people would find it interesting: a chronicle of youth and the beginnings of life. Maybe I could publish subsequent chapters as internet installments.

Would people read the stuff? Who knows. Would I probably end up sharing some parts of my life that made me seem like an unsavory character? Probably. Would it matter? Here goes nothing

Some Saturday Morning Script - Inspired by Neil Young's Waging Heavy Peace

“How do you do?” I do well. “What do you do??” I do what I want. “…why???” Because I can

This morning I woke at dawn, let the new puppy out, set the water to boil, and went outside to stretch and listen to the pitter-patter of snowflakes falling lightly on dry earth.

Now, what to do with my Saturday…

The possibilities are always endless, but my days can feel particularly wide-open when getting paid to live in other people’s houses, eat their food, and give their animals some love.

As a general rule, I try to be more useful than I am useless. More productive than consumptive.

“But what do you produce? What do you give back?? What gives you purpose???”

For starters, I give my time. House/dogsitting is very valuable, I believe. People love their dogs, cats, plants and other dependents 90% of the time. I allow for them to get away with a clean conscience for that other 10% of the time. And I’m cheap! $20-30 a day!!

Whether I am making a promo video for a business in town, taking portrait photos for a young professional, or teaching a photography class at the Lander Art Center, I try to provide more value than I cost…and because I am new to almost everything I do, I have to be cheap, and try my best.

So yes, I am pretty new at everything I do, and no, it doesn’t scare me. Climbing helps one’s mastery of fear, but in general, life is just too short to live in fear, so I try not to take myself or my work too seriously.

I recently did some wedding photography for a few friends of mine in town. They were clear that they were going for a more “casual vibe” and so I shouldn’t worry too much. It was easy not to worry until the bride was walking down the aisle with her father, and OH MAN, I would have felt BAD if I had missed one of those shots. Because I’m not a professional and they told me it would be relaxed, they paid me less, but all of the 20 “keeper shots” that I got from that wedding ceremony were priceless, and regardless of what the bride and groom said, or what I was getting paid, during those short moments (kissing the bride, the toast, etc.) I had to scramble for the best angles, worried a little bit, just kept on shooting, and OH MAN, the satisfaction when I looked back through the photos and saw the good work I had done.

I have now taught two photography classes through the Art Center. The first was a once-a-week course for kids. Great time. Low-stress…although babysitting twelve kids ages 7-13 could definitely be stressful if you let it. But it was nice, I think they learned a lot, we got to go for photography walks every day, and like practicing most arts, you just need to take the time.

Next, I taught the adults. I knew they would come with their big cameras, new and old, and have a million questions about how to use them, how to edit photos, how to use their computers, and maybe even know a lot about photography, and thus ask really pointed questions that I would have to answer. I have never taken a class on photography. I have only been doing this for a few years. I am by no means a professional, and I have very few accolades to point to as credentials…but it went great! I danced around the subject of individual’s cameras and taught about the technical basis of all photography – aperture, shutter speed, focus, and composition. The class went out to a local spot to photograph a sunset, and then we had a crash-course in work flow, editing, and sharing. At the end of it all, everyone seemed happy, more capable, and just glad to have spent a few hours putting some intention towards their hobby. And I felt the same! Such a useful learning tool, to try and teach. So helpful for realizing holes in your own knowledge, to have folks ask questions.

I feel purposeful because I am able to share my various skills with the community, but really what helps me sleep at night are the interactions with this wonderful, tight-knit community here in Lander. Sure, I teach a few hours of classes a month (through the art center and school system), but I spend a majority of my time relating to folks, old and young, in the coffee shops, at concerts in the park, at art openings, at fundraisers, in the bar, in the gym, in the church…the list goes on.

Yesterday, I woke up on a friend’s couch outside of town. The night before, I had met him and his wife at a local grocery store, picked out the makings of a fine meal, and went back to their place to chef it up. We invited a few other mutual friends, and after I had cooked and we had all drank some beer and wine, we sat down to the feast, on the back porch, with the setting sun shining through the aspen glade. Conversation and an old movie followed dinner, and then more conversation until about midnight. Then sleep. An excellent night filled with good food and friendship.

So I wake up, head back down into town, and go to the Methodist church. I am the first one there – good thing I have a key! I let myself in, turn the quick-boil on, and set about checking the weather, my email, the results of yesterday’s social media posts – which, for better or worse, I use to gauge the impact of my art – whether it be photos, video, words, or some mixture of the three, I like to see if people are interacting with the story I am telling. I think this is another answer to the question of what I do and why: it fulfills me to create things, tell stories, see their interaction, and the public appreciation for what they bring to the world.

Anyway, I drink my tea, post a recent photo, and go make a breakfast bowl: pumpkin and sunflower seeds on granola with almonds (all from the NOLS “nomad bin” aka free food), and some yogurt that I got from my last housesitting gig. It’s gorgeous out, so I head up to Sinks Canyon to do a bit of solo wandering, since I didn’t manage to find an adventure buddy on short-notice. On my way out, I check in with Pastor Mark at the front office. I count him among one of my first friends in Lander, and he has also been an employer, mentor, confidante, and more.

I drive 15 minutes, and gain 1000 feet of elevation into the foothills of Wyoming’s Wind River Range. I park next to a NOLS van, and see a crew of students and instructors, practicing rope rescue on the cliffside. I chat them up briefly as I hike past, up to the limestone “bouldering band” above the sandstone that they hang from. I spend about an hour roasting in the sun, but the breeze and the cool air at 7500’ make the temperature perfect…I wish it would always be like this, but tomorrow it will probably snow because it’s fall in Wyoming…actually I don’t think I would want it to be any different. I like change. I like snow and cold. I like warmth and the sun. It’s mostly a state of mind, and it’s mostly an appreciation of what is today, because it probably will be something different tomorrow.

After my short climbing/wandering session, I high-tail it back to town and head to take care of the pooch. The owners just left that morning, so I am now the authority in the house, and it takes me a good bit of the afternoon to establish the rules. In between playing/training with the young pup, I bike over to Sweetwater Wellness and pick up a check for my recent work on a video for their website. I talk on the phone with Trey about tweaks to the website I have built him. A friend from my childhood calls, we talk for a bit as I ride lazily, and I end the conversation divulging that I am excited to be home in a month for thanksgiving.

I love Lander, but as I have always found with travel, or really any change, it makes you appreciate what you had. Building community takes effort, and time. Showing up goes a long way; I do that, and I have a wide network of friends and acquaintances to show for it. But talking to my friend on the phone, it brings back so many feelings caught up loosely in memories of the time we have shared. I have known this man for almost 15 years, and there are some things that can only come from time – some bonds can only be forged long-ago in your formative years, by coming home from school every day and rushing out to wander farm and woods, on bike and on foot, and get into trouble, get dirty, and get home late for dinner. But I digress.

It is the afternoon on a balmy day in this town I moved to 10 months ago. As I bike along, carefree, I see a few cars outside of the NOLS Rocky Mountain Branch, and remember that there is some hulla baloo there this evening. As I park my bike, a few friend/acquaintances walk up and I chat with them as we enter the building. WOW, it’s a mob scene. I guess the Board of Trustees are in town, so NOLS threw a big party – free food and booze has brought an eclectic crowd, from the semi-nomadic instructors to the business casual board members, from the young folks working entry-level positions to the gnarled-old outdoorsmen that have been around since the beginning of the school.

I grab a glass of wine and begin the schmoozing. This is one of my favorite things to do. I love meeting new people. Sometimes these events are a nice place to catch up with people, but I feel like the vibe created by a milling mass of people is predisposed to introductions and potentially getting really deep with a total stranger. It’s almost freeing when you know nothing about someone, and will probably not see them again. You can ask them anything. And when they pose questions to you, its an opportunity to take stock of your life; I always feel a bit like I am recreating myself when I start telling people my story. Because you are just a character in someone else’s story, and when you just walk up to them in a party, you get to start from scratch, and be who you want to be, who you think you should be, or just brutally honest about who you are. Crafting a perception of yourself doesn’t have to involve any untruth either, it all has to do with the tidbits of information that you choose to share, and how you frame them.

After a few glasses of wine, and a lot of deep eye-contact with a middle-aged woman who has sons that I remind her of, I say goodbye, grab a handful of nuts, and hop back on my bike, just a wee bit tipsy. Its 6oclock and I head to the Methodist Church for the fourth week of our Free Friday, Good Samaritan meal program. This past winter, as I got more familiar with the church, the pastor, the congregation, and the needs of the community in Lander, I went to Mark and suggested that we start some sort of program to feed people.

When I first came to Lander, it seemed utopian. There were no mansions in town, and rent pretty cheap across the board, so coming from the east coast, it appeared there was minimal wealth-disparity. I was wrong. The more time I have spent in Lander, the more I have realized just how poor many of the residents are. The more I learned about the congregation, the more people I met who I was sure would love to feed people, and just generally be helpful to other humans in any way they could. So I went to Mark and pitched the idea that we utilize the new downstairs kitchen for free community meals. He was way ahead of me. In fact, he ran a very successful program for four years at a little church in Montana that did exactly what I was talking about.

“I’ve been meaning to get it back up and running here, but just haven’t had the time and energy, because I have been dealing with pushback from ‘tradition’. But if you go out and find a few sponsors, we will get this thing going.”

I went out, and talked to groups like the Catholic College, Lander Rotary club, and NOLS. Not everyone was receptive, but after I reported to Mark that we were halfway to our goal, he went out, used some of his divine leverage, and BANG, just like that, we had groups committed to sending volunteers one Friday a month for the next year. So Mark and I sat down with the Methodist church mission team, divulged the plan, and made plans to fundraise the money to buy the food. We wanted to fundraise all the food money, and just have groups send volunteers on their one Friday a month to shop, cook, serve, and clean, all in the Methodist church, with dinner 530-7, so that folks could count on a free meal, every week, in the same place, like clockwork.

Now it’s the forth week of the program, and we gave out over 70 meals. I sat and ate with some nice older women, chatting and sharing smiles for over an hour. When the meal was done, I walked them out to their car, and gave them my card. Everyone seems to have need for strong hands, a young back, a sharp mind, or an attentive ear.

I biked over to the Lander Bar, and chatted with a few people, some old and some new. Watched a little football, ate some nachos that someone was going to throw away, drank water (I have managed to almost never buy beer at the bar, because if I bought a beer every time I was in there, it would add up), and hoped that some music would come on that we could all dance to. Those have been some of my favorite nights in Lander, those nights when the music is live, and the crowd is into it. I have danced HARD, in the mosh pit, on tables, late into the night, to all brands and strains of tunes, and always in good company. But there was no live music that night, and so, at about 10pm, I biked back to see the pup, read a bit of Neil Young’s autobiography, and fall asleep, fat and happy.

Now I sit writing, inspired by Neil Young’s words, watching the snow blanketing the town on this lazy Saturday.

Peace

One Journey Through

A World of Stories

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."

- Joseph Campbell

AutoBiographique