Reflections of a life mostly behind me.

Coming on the heels of my post about Motivation, this one really gets to the heart of the matter.

What do you do when the entire plans you had for your life were destroyed?

When all those dreams are gone.

Well, I am 52 years old. There is a lot there to think about.

And it feels at times like I am looking back on someone else's life.

It can't be mine. It's gone. And I can't really completely come to grips with that.

My life as I knew it ended with such violence and tumult, that I sit here 5 years later in disbelief.

I KNOW what happened.

But the images of all those years are still there. And they are my past.

And they are not connected to my life now, or my future.

And that is where the challenge to my soul and spirit lie.

In trying to reconcile so much of my life....

Not being a part of my present, or my future.

And therein lies the challenge.

How do you live a life from this day forward, with nothing from your past surviving?

I guess by building one new memory after another.

All the while, though...there are these images. These times. These memories.

As if reincarnated, you glance back in a dim haze at some past that you lived, never really feeling that it's part of you. Yet, inexorably, it haunts you.

Motivation

What drives us?

What drives me?

Well, that is an interesting question that has been put out there now a number of times, recently for me.

Why do I spend so many days at the refuge and out with my cameras?

Why do I believe in it? Why is it the focus of my efforts? And what is it about my life that makes me work so very hard in my photography, and in my writing.

And the answer I keep coming back to is simple, profound, and unfortunate.

If I were married, had a nice home, a good job that I even halfway enjoyed. If I had comfort and love, and companionship. If I had that life that so many do have, and the rest of us dream of....

Then I would not be doing what I do.

I would be home cutting the grass, and getting ready to fire up the grill for a Memorial Day cookout. I'd be hugging and kissing my wife, and talking to my kids about what new and wonderful things await them as they become young adults.

But my life is not that dream.

It is one of devastation and loss and betrayal and pain.

And almost endless loneliness.

And that loss and suffering and pain drive me.

To find the beauty in nature.

To pour myself into my photography.

To wear my emotions on my sleeve, and write about the things that have changed the course of my life. Indeed, the things that have changed who I am.

I now understand where so many artists got their inspiration. It was from the pain and yearning and loss in their own lives.

I don't pretend to be on the same stage with the greats.

But I do understand.

We can't let our souls and our love and our hopes perish.

Even though we know that our lives will never be what we once dreamed.

So we find new dreams. And we seek out that which is beautiful and wonderful.

All the while wanting to express the rage, the hurt, the anguish we feel inside.

When we hurt, we look for comfort.

And we find it.

In our art.

And we show the hopes and dreams and love we have to share.

Facing Reality

The things that give us hope.

The people who encourage us.

All wonderful. And necessary I suppose, if we are to succeed.

One of the hardest things for me to face, and I have been faced with it a lot recently.

We aren't the best.

We can't compete on the world stage.

That is for the very few to ever know. The best of the best.

But while most of us (myself included) can never even tie their shoes, we need to believe in order to keep going forward.

For me that has been the delusion that I have that keeps me going.

That I see and capture things with my cameras that are unique, compelling and world class.

And then I do a Google search or a Flickr search and realize that while my work is good, it doesn't hold a candle to so many others.

That no matter how hard I try, I will never be world class.

I will never be the best, at anything.

Very humbling. Very much a reality check.

I won't give up what I love to do, but I have to realize, I am not THAT great.

I am just your ordinary guy who tries really hard, and has a love of nature and the birds. And I get some really nice shots.

But there are dozens of photographers out there who clean my clock. And I will never be that good, no matter what I do.

So, I will write. And I will combine that with my love of nature, and my photography.

Because while I may never be a world-class nature photographer.

I will touch your heart.

Convergence

In 2006 I released a game that I made by myself. A sequel to a Star Trek game that I worked on as a level designer. Of course it was "unofficial" and it was free. It took me 3 years to make. I had the help of a few internet friends to do it. But I was the sole designer. I came up with the story, the dialogue, the cut scenes, the level design. 22 levels. The amount of work involved is staggering, if you know anything about high end computer game design.

The game was critically acclaimed and had thousands of downloads. The Star Trek community loved it. But it was anticlimactic for me.

It was in the doing of it that I lived. Not in the release. Though it was rewarding to see the results of my work make it out there in the real world.

But what really strikes me is that the name we chose for it (suggested by one of the team of beta testers) would be prophetic.

Today was a very personal and emotional day for me.

With so much happening in my life, all at once, it was as if someone uncorked a bottle and everything that had been trapped in there came out like a volcano.

It wasn't a meltdown, but it was intense.

I have never felt the level of emotion all at once. Pain and frustration. Loss and hurt. Love and caring. Excitement and anticipation. Yearning and loneliness.

All at once, in one massive explosion from deep inside my soul.

It was a convergence.

A meeting of all the bad, all the good that has happened recently, all the hopes and dreams. The fear and the apprehension. All of those emotions. All at once.

I have never felt or experienced anything like it. It was scary and it was over the top.

And it was liberating.

I'm not an easy person to live with.

What makes me good at what I do and accomplish is also what makes me difficult to understand. To deal with. And sometimes to talk with.

No, I'm not special or better.

But I am intense. To the point that people tend to want to run away or put their walls up, because they can't deal with all the raw emotion.

My life is better for me now that I have unleashed that part of me. It fuels my creativity. My work is better because my heart and my soul are on my sleeve.

And it all converged today.

And it feels like the weights of a lifetime were lifted, and I see my course clearly now.

Goodbye Forever to the World of Information Technology

I woke up this morning with a list of things to do this weekend.

1) Get 40 photos ready to send to Ducks Unlimited Magazine

2) Put together 24 of my best wide-aspect scenic nature shots for use in a new product line at the Gallery.

3) Enter the DU Photo Contest

4) Enter the National Geographic photo contest.

5) Talk to Brett about the Wildlife refuge fundraiser where I will be one of the exhibiting photographers at a major fund-raising event this Fall.


It's finally starting to fall together. I have opportunity knocking loudly at my door. And I'm opening it. All the way.

I'm bidding my old life farewell forever. I spent 30 years in IT. And the last job I had in that field was what convinced me more than anything to pursue a career as a wildlife and nature photographer.

I was told by Site Lead at my former job (who also loved photography), that there was no way to ever make a living doing it.

He was a spineless, conniving little shit, by the way. Combined with the boss I had, who was a raving, narcissistic abusive lunatic, it was not the most fun you can have at work.

And he looked down at me. Turned his nose up. Laughed about things like me being so invested in nature and photography.

He works a shit job, for good money. A job that I would never want. But he does it to make ends meet, drive his nice Lexus SUV, and own his Condo near the beach.

I guess what I want to say, if I could...and this is allowing me to vent some of my feelings, due to how I was treated...

Phil, fuck you. You looked at me as if I was in some ways pathetic. You turned your nose up. You and Remi thought that you were so very talented. So wonderful.

You laughed when I talked about wanting to do photography for the rest of my life, and said with a hearty chuckle "good luck with that".

Well, I don't need luck.

I have all the skill and passion and love to make it work, and I am on the verge of doing just that.

So, you and Michael and Remi and Bernie can sit and talk about what you are going to do about the latest issue with a tape silo, or a disk array, or the temperature of the data center.

Good luck with that. Has to be a rewarding career for you.

Meanwhile, I will be showing my works at a fabulous gallery. Working with talented people who love what they do. Working perhaps for a national magazine as a regular contributor.

And making that life as a photographer that you could only put in your pocket as some long forgotten brief flirting you had with the idea.

And I will make it a reality.

Because, Phil...

I am better than you. Far better. Far more talented. And I love what I do. And I'm willing to put in 12 hours in a refuge with my cameras.

Something you have no concept of.

But I will never put 12 hours in at an office. Or a datacenter.

Been there, done that, got the blood stained T-shirt. (from the beatings I took from management over the years).

So, farewell computers, information technology, datacenters and supercomputing.

I won't miss you. At all.

I left you in the dust. The same dust that you tried to grind me into over the years at times. In a thankless profession where backstabbing and political bullshit trumps ability.

Now it's just me and my cameras. And the birds. And nature.

And it's where I belong.

So, for all of those in my last 30 years who made my life hell. Who stabbed me in the back. Who kept me down. Those new employers who looked at me with all of my tremendous experience and said "No degree" or "Too old", I have this to say.

See you in my rear-view mirror.

Getting smaller by the minute.

The Road Less Traveled

Robert Frost probably had no idea how often that statement would be quoted or used. But perhaps he did....

Because it speaks to a yearning in all of us.

To go down a path where there are new things to see. New worlds to explore. New experiences to savor.

To choose the road less traveled....

Is to give in to our desire to explore. To discover. To observe.

For me, it was equal parts choice, and equal parts forced on my by my life's circumstances.

I choose this life because it is what I love.

For my entire life, I have been in awe of nature. I chased butterflies when I was barely 10 years old. Watched as bats descended into my yard or at the lake to feast on the thousands of insects that were spending a lot of their time biting me. I was grateful for their service, but mostly awestruck by their amazing agility.

My mother was the person who nurtured this. She encouraged me to get out and walk. To go see what was out there. To take a hike in the woods at the cabin, or go for a stroll in the fields behind our home, where I grew up.

So, I did.

I was fascinated by all of it.

The birds.

The butterflies and moths.

The heavens and the stars.

The earth, the rocks, the minerals, the fossils.

The fish and the amphibians.

And even the lizards and snakes.

All that comprises our natural world. I loved it. Was fascinated by it. Wanted to learn more about it, wanted to SEE it.

Then, life imposed itself on me. The trappings of all those things a man is supposed to do.

Meet a woman. Fall in love. Get married. Raise a family. Go to work every day. Earn a living. Provide for the family. Build a home.

Take care of the auto insurance, the bills and mortgage. Cut the grass, tend to the gardens (which I did love).

But the work, the time, the commute. The obligations. The responsibility.

It was all consuming.

I had almost no help. And no encouragement. In fact, what I had was a dissatisfied spouse who ended up finding her solace and love in the arms of other men.

I was beaten and tired. Overworked and exhausted. I had an insanely long commute, a very stressful job. I would come home and cook dinner most nights, because she simply didn't want to, or was otherwise occupied.

It was killing me.

I had built an amazing home with incredible gardens. I wanted to create a nature conservancy in my own yard. And I did. It was beyond gorgeous. And there were birds and butterflies and animals galore. Not to mention the incredible trees, plants, bulbs, flowers, shrubs and even a pond.

Nobody cared. Just me. I had worked on that wanting to create a sanctuary for my wife and family. And in the end, it was only me sitting there watching the fish come to the surface to eat when I threw in the fish food. Or watching the Chipmunks run down to the waterfall to sip some water. Or to hear the frogs bellowing from the pond at night.

It was like creating an oasis of incredible beauty, and having everyone just say "that's nice".

"What about the car payments?"

"Can we afford that second mortgage?"

The yard looks like shit (it didn't, but my ex-wife would complain anyway). In fact, it was gorgeous. Just not manicured and trimmed in the shape of barn animals or perfect squares on the hedges. It was wild, and natural. But beautiful.

"We don't go out enough."

"You never have time for me"

"I'm bored".

Those are just some of the quotes from my ex-wife.

The one that changed my life forever was this one.

"Just look at you. Who would want you?".

That was followed soon after by her second (and last) affair during our marriage.

What followed has put me on this path.

All of my life, I have loved nature and the outdoors.

And all of my life, I worked in Information Technology, and for Corporate America, because that is what I needed to do, in order to raise my family, take care of the home, and provide.

And I lost it all.

But what I gained now is the chance to take that road.

The one I should have been on all along.

The road less traveled.

The places I have yet to see.

The wonders of nature I haven't yet gazed upon.

And I want to capture those with my cameras.

I'm on that road.

I went left instead of right. Through the thickets, the thorn bushes, the swamp and the hills. Past the river and the lake that nobody goes near. And in the trees above me is a bird I've never seen before.

Until now.

There's no turning back.

I'm taking all those turns. Going where most don't notice, or bother to see.

While the world revolves, and the politicians bicker, while the news trumpets the latest disaster. While people hurry to the office to see what their boss wants them to do today...

I wander down that path. Alone, and with no one guiding me, or directing me. Or complaining about what I am doing.

I will be 52 year old in a few days.

I've finally reached that fork in the road.

And I chose, forever more, to take the road less traveled.

Because that is where my heart is. Where my soul is rejuvenated.

Where the wounds of the past heal, and the sadness melts away.

------------------

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Osprey.. Edwin B. Forsythe NWR Photographed by Eric C. Reuter

Our fragile minds.

Our lives and experiences and everything we see and do is in there. It's inescapable.

And sometimes, it does things to us that we don't expect, can't anticipate, and sometimes...sends up reeling.

Yesterday I made one of my regular visits to the Forsythe refuge for my photography. As I made one loop around the refuge, I pulled back around near the headquarters building and gift shop. They have planted a new wildflower and native species garden just outside, and a lot of birds and butterflies seem to like it. So, I loop around there with the truck to see if there's anything interesting before heading back out into the refuge again.

A week before, I had a great friend come and stay with me for a few days. We had a fantastic time, and spent an entire day at the refuge. During that time, I decided to go into the gift shop, and get a really cool shirt for her (and one for me). They are shirts with pictures of either different shorebirds or raptors (birds of prey) that are seen in our area and at the refuge.

So, yesterday I though what a great gift one of those shirts would make for my mom....

And for that brief moment in time, she was alive again.

And then I realized that she was gone.

It's my life. God damn it.

One thing that has become clear to me after the last decade of bullshit and turmoil is how reluctant people are.

Reluctant to accept that someone like me will do what the hell I want to do with the rest of my life, and say "fuck all" to the rest of the world.

You reach a point where others opinions about what you should be doing bounce off like a ping-pong ball.

People seem to always want so much from others. Not just in what they can give them, but in doing what they expect.

My life, my attitudes, and sometimes even just my existence tends to make people nervous.

How can someone do what I am doing?

No job. No prospects for one in my old field.

No income.

No home of my own.

Spending my days taking photographs of birds and trying to make a life out of that.

They can't understand, comprehend, or appreciate.

Then, I get those people who say how envious they are. That I don't have to go to work, and that I get all that time out with my cameras, enjoying nature and soaking it all in.

In some circumstances, they condemn.

But what is clear is that nobody understands this. At all.

They have no idea what was lost for me to get here. What I had to endure.

They can't comprehend, and think this is like some summer vacation.

But what my book will show (at least to those with half a brain and a heart) is that what most consider essential is not that at all.

What is essential in this life is to live it.

I watch now as so many go through life as if it is a series of motions.

Get up every day.

Go to work.

Put up with abuse, bullshit, crazy inane and sometimes insane bosses.

Backstabbing coworkers.

Petty, insignificant people who don't care about them at all, but want to take you down if it means they can get ahead.

Ahead of what?

That is the question.

What I am doing with my life is fucking LIVING it.

I have no idea how long I have left.

But I do know what I have sacrificed, and what I have lost.

What I am saying to the world in general is "Bring it on".

I am stealing the time. The experiences. I am going out and enjoying the world and my time, and nature and wonders of the world, and capturing that with my cameras.

Not because I am seeking a big paycheck, or a nice house, or to provide for some imaginary wife and family.

But for me.

Why?

Because it's my life.

It's now or never.

I ain't gonna live forever.

I just want to live while I'm alive..

Thank you, Jon Bon Jovi for illuminating that.

People want to tell me what I need to do. What I should do.

My answer to them?

Fuck off.