miller's crossing

So as I write this, the stock market is diving and the House just rejected the $700 billion bailout plan. Still pretty early to see who's saying what in political blogland, but this is what I've got to say: step back and practice some detachment. These are very interesting times with the potential to be quite scary. Uncertainty is difficult for most people ... as is change. We are witnessing a lot of change -- condensed, fast and unpredictable upheaval, revaluation and reset.

Paying attention? Detachment doesn't mean ignorant or uninterested. So, pay attention.

It's been a year since I hit the reset button, moving 2000 miles away from my old home to the Pacific Northwest. I'm finding it's a process with lots of starts and stops, plateaus and backwards steps, and vortex-like forward motion punctuated by periods of evaluation and re-evaluation of perceived progress.

The tide is turning. I can feel it. There is another change getting ready to manifest. I'll float a little longer, though. Timing is its own thing.

In the meantime, I had a great vacation last week in one of my favorite places. Photos here.

lair

A few more photos.

It's been a little more than nine months since I decided to relocate. At the time, I realized I wouldn't be doing myself any favors by considering the ramifications of moving 2000 miles from home. (I might scare myself out of it.) I just knew it was something I felt strongly about doing. I had the momentum. I took the chance. And I did it.

Tibetan flag

Just a thought for peaceful co-existence and the end of suffering for all beings.

Check out new pictures from my weekend trip.

...

"I've visited this place in a dream," I remarked to my companion as we explored old military bunkers at Fort Worden on the Olympic Peninsula. It should've felt more profound. But really, I think I was just overstating things.

It's fair to say I've been experiencing a lot of movement lately. But I'm not sure I'm on top of what it's all about. And I'm still slowly separating from my Madison ballast. More sorting and tossing and shipping of stuff. I can simultaneously feel that I don't need any of it and yet find priceless reminders of who I've been over the years.

I wish I could write I've been on Cold Mountain this whole time. But I can't.

Since I last wrote, I've traveled by foot, ferry boat, car, bicycle, bus, airplane and limo --covering over 6000 miles sans camera. Life has been busy, enjoyable and social. Good stuff. No pictures, until today. Here are more photos.

Regrets, like the neon, radiated through the pellucid glass blocks, illuminating the haunted sidewalk and streets. The Crystal Corner firmly stood watch over the intersection. Ghosts came and went, not bothering with the door. They mixed with the living. It was the kind of establishment where you never really knew with whom you were drinking.

This was his online profile (single, 41, male):

About me:

As winter comes back on, I get excited. At least I used to. And then I got old. So now to make myself feel better. I hide out all @ a dirty bicyle shops all night. And get high, if not drunk; both. Also, I like a bit of cheese.

Who I'd like to meet:

A nice lady. Lady. A clean, woman well past the age of twenty nine. One whom has the full mouth taste of craze, and found her way back.