Epic FAIL

I have not posted here in a long time. The time is now, however.

For the last six months or more, one man and his minions have done everything they can to destroy me. Literally following me with private investigators, conspiring with my ex wife and doing whatever he (they) can to undermine me and break my spirit.

I am here to say. EPIC FAIL. Got a job waiting for me, got a huge pension coming in nine months. A future. A new home. A wife to be.

I just wanted to declare that they have failed.

You cannot beat someone who has lost it all, and who has nothing left to lose. That is because all that is left is what you are made of. What's inside of you.

Sure, I've made my mistakes, done things I shouldn't have. But that does not define us (or me). It is what is inside of you that makes you who you are.

In the end you take nothing with you. I've learned what it is like to have nothing while still here. Its not so bad. What you end up with is who you are as a person, and then you find out who your real friends are. Because you have nothing material to offer them. Just yourself.

The gang of six or so haters, led by one Brian E. Kushner of Audubon NJ, consists of dysfunctional, fucked-up people who enjoy bashing me, following their leader, who has no talent, no ability, other than to rally people to hate someone he hates. Me.

Sorry, you failed. In every conceivable way. I am still healthy, still sober, still alive, and still doing what I love (photography). You tried everything. The police, the courts, tailing me, going after my closest friends, hacking their accounts, and trying to get to me.

Time to give it up.

I am unbreakable. You can't have that final victory. I suggest you go take more lousy photographs and whore yourself out like you have been, in search of approval.

Your attempts to undermine me and break my spirit and take away my friends has resulted in me being even stronger, and my friends more aligned with me than ever.

Game. Set. Match.

The Black Blanket From Hell

Depression.

It takes everything from you. It puts you down, and keeps you there.

You want to move, but you can't.

You're stuck here.

You're not so much sad as you are incapacitated.

No matter how hard you want to be productive, active, get things done.

You just can't.

Impossible to really explain to anyone who hasn't been here.

It is like draping this cloak of darkness over you, to where you are covered in it and comforted in a strange way, but immobilized. You see light and opportunity, but the blanket is so heavy, you can't get out from under it.

So you let it keep you warm. And utterly dying at the same time.

Simple things like making a meal, or cleaning up, or walking the dogs become overwhelming tasks that might as well have been someone asking you to design the next skyscraper.

Everything suffers. Your friends. Your family. Your relationships. God forbid, your job and livelihood spiral down into the black hole.

Its not that you stop caring.

Its that you cannot move.

It is for me, the worst thing I have ever experienced. For a long time, years back, I was able to do the kinds of things that helped offset the effects. I exercised hard, I had a job that required me to think and act and perform. I had a family and a home of my own.

I now have none of those things. Have not for a long while.

To make matters worse...the very worst place for someone battling this is in a place filled with clutter and confusion.

And I live in the worst of hoarder's hells. My father's house.

I half-joking tell visitors (of which I have almost none), to not put anything of theirs down anywhere. Because they won't be able to find it again. It's not even an exaggeration.

The incredible clutter and mess serve to completely confound any efforts to pull out from under the blanket. You look around you, and you cannot even find what you need. Without space and organization, fighting depression is like being thrown into a maze with all the lights turned off.

And you simply give up. Because for a normal person, the effort required to deal with clutter and disorganization is difficult.

For someone suffering depression?

It's a life sentence.

That is one reason I cannot wait to leave this place behind. Which I am doing shortly.

To say it is taking superhuman effort is an understatement.

When you wear this black, lead cloak....just moving is near impossible.

Tearing it off and flying away?

As close to miraculous as it gets.

Wish me luck.

When you have to dig deeper than you ever have before.

I have had my faith and hope tested so many times, that I am unfortunately becoming familiar with that life.

Every ray of hope I have has to fight like hell to reach my eyes, and for my soul to hold onto it.

For some reason...well, for many reasons, I have not been able to pull out of this hell.

I keep working, trying, hoping, struggling. I pour my entire self and my soul into my photography.

I keep applying for jobs...and those pleas for work fall on deaf ears. My talents and ability are going to waste, and the people who could have had me working with them are missing out.

I know my abilities. I know my capabilities. They are worth having.

What sometimes drags me back, and what I try hard (too damned hard) to fight are the feelings of envy I have for many that I have come to know over the years.

Many of my friends faced the same hardships. Cheating spouses, divorce, hard times.

But every one of them has moved on. They've got a new start, a new life, a new love, a new job, a new home.

It's like standing here stuck in a block of ice, or with a weight tied to both feet. I haven't moved at all. I am staring at the same four walls I did 2 years ago. On Feb 14th, I will have been here in my father's empty house, for 2 solid years. The boxes that we moved out of my townhouse when I lost my last job, are still sitting where they where when the movers placed them there.

It is life on hold.

Endless hold.

I get up every day, and nothing ever changes.

I keep hoping.

I keep waiting.

I keep trying.

Now I am digging down deeper than I ever have before.

I am facing a court hearing on Monday. My attorney will not return any calls. I have no idea what is coming. And from someone who has been dealt many crushing surprises, I hate them with a passion.

The worst thing this lawyer could have done was this. Ignore his own client, and leave it to complete surprise, with no reassurances, no planning, no discussion.

My life of the last 10-12 years has been one of almost constant upheaval. Incredible stress. Betrayals and losses and back stabbing and disappointments. Financial ruin.

I have things I need and want to do. I want to get out of this place. Be with the one I love, who is so very far away. I have a light at the end of the tunnel. A pension to collect in 2013, for one thing.

But it is a long way to go to get there.

And it's fucking dark in here.

Living is dying.

Living is dying.

When we are young we see endless opportunity, we dream of being special. We are going to be astronauts, or scientists, or maybe even president.

Maybe by junior high or sooner we start to see that fall apart.

We see kids treating others with cruelty.

We see people who are badly handicapped.

As we age, we get to see those we love, die.

We get to learn words like "cancer", "heart disease" or "Auto accident".

And then they are gone.

We get to learn about corruption and crime, about violence and prejudice, about poverty and horrible illnesses.

Life is not this wonderous journey filled with flowers and butterflies.

It is a journey of learning to live with crushing pain. Loss. Betrayal. Death.

We only get to enjoy those butterflies and flowers by knowing the pain.

We can't really appreciate them without it.

Life is a scale we teter on. On one side is the beauty, the hugs, the laughs, the loves.

On the other side is the ache, the pain, the loss, the tears, the broken heart.

And that is the glory of being human.

We know we are here but for a short time. We are blessed with the ability to feel and empathize and hurt, and to help those we love.

We know we will die someday.

That the journey is going to hurt. A lot.

And maybe through that pain, we can find and appreciate that which we otherwise would take for granted.

You only get one shot at a sunrise. You best watch the next one. Because the day after that? You may not be here to see another.

I've lost friends, loved ones, and my own mother. I've seen them all pass on. I've watched them die. I've lost a lot, but others have lost even more.

Tomorrow, I will find a bird, or a flower, or a plant, or a gorgeous sunrise, and I will take it all in.

Life is about pain and suffering.

And that is the price we pay for joy.

Trial by fire.

Well, all of my money is gone.

No more unemployment.

No job.

Because I have an alcohol addiction, in a few days I will get to go through withdrawl. This will be the second time. The first was in October, when I nearly froze to death at the cabin.

I should have learned then. I made it 25 days. Then I drank again.

I also smoke. Because of 35 years of doing that, I now have COPD. I can't imagine having to go cold turkey on both alcohol and cigarettes at the same time, but that is what I am facing.

In all these years. The last six at least....

Nobody came to my aid.

My ex who divorced me....

My former coworkers...

Nobody.

They all let me fucking rot and die here.

With all the talent, experience and ability I have, nobody stood up for me. Not one person went the extra mile to help.

So, when I lost my last job, 2 years ago, I moved back in with my father.

All of my shit still lies in boxes here. A life totally destroyed. On hold. No place to go. No home.
No job. No money. Nothing left at all.

And still, I get calls from my ex and kids..."Can you help..."

No, I can't help.

See, the last few years, I needed your help. I needed REAL help.

I needed people who would reach out to me, help me, maybe cook me a dinner, or help me find work.

When all was said and done.

I was alone.

I gave my entire life to a marriage and to raise children.

I worked for 30 years.

Drove over 1 million miles commuting.

Risked my life.

Gave all I had.

And when it counted...

I was left here to rot and die.

I would have given anything for my family. I would have sacrificed anything at all.

But when it came down to me.

They let me go.

So.

I am gone.

I am leaving you all behind.

I am moving on to a new life. I will do as I please.

But you?

You are on your own.

This is my goodbye. No, I am not dying. I am moving on.

This is life number 2.

And it starts today.

Life's Hardest Moments.

Someone posted the most amazing moments in life. In response,
I would like to post the hardest moments in life.

Finding out your mother has died.
Having you children sexually abused by their grandparents.
Having your daughter raped and assaulted by a boyfriend.
Watching your father go through open heart surgery.
Watching your friends die from cancer and disease.
Losing a career that spanned 30 years.
Going bankrupt.
Being cheated on, betrayed, lied to and tossed into the street by
the woman who swore to love you forever.
Being backstabbed by coworkers.
Losing your home and the place you built for your family.
Losing all of your worldly possessions, and every dime you ever had.
Having shotguns pointed at your head for "your own safety".
Being dragged from your own home by police.
Having friends abandon you when you needed them most.
Being told you are worthless, and who would ever want you?

All of these. Are my life.

But here I stand. I have hope for a bright future with a wonderful woman who I adore. I have yet to meet her.

But she held my hand through the worst of it. Always there for me.

That is what it takes. To overcome hell.

Love.

Ok, what it's all about.

I was betrayed. Lied to. Cheated on. Utterly destroyed.

I fell in love again, and I learned a lot. I also lost a lot.

Life is very fucking simple.

If you are not loved and cherished, you wither and die.

You can amuse yourself with hobbies, work and other pursuits.

But at the end of the day, if you are alone and unloved you have fucking nothing.

There is no amount of money on this earth that could make me happy.

It takes a hug and loving arms to do that.

That is all I want. All I need.

Anything else is the bonus round.

Finding God.

On a cold and hellish night in October, I sat at the computer in the cabin. Freezing from the cold, no space heater could get my body temperature to where it needed to be. It was 29 degrees outside. It was 29 degrees inside.

I was also suffering from withdrawal from alcohol. I shivered. I shook. I heaved.

I went to the bedroom and wrapped myself in a comforter and blankets. I was shivering. Shaking. I was convulsing. I could not stop the involuntary muscle contractions that my withdrawal was causing. I could not stop from being so cold.

With the very last bit of consciousness I had, I dialed 911.

I told them where I was. Deep in the woods, in the wilderness.
That I was suffering from hypotermia.

To please come get me.

40 minutes later, an ambulance was there. They took me on a ride. Put warming blankets on me. Took my vital signs. Gave me IV fluids.

It was a 45 minute ride.

I was heading up Route 17, in the dark. From Hancock NY to Binghamton.

A town that had just a month before had been devastated with floods.

The backed me into the hospital ER loading dock. They wheeled me in.

"I have no insurance" I told them.

The wheeled me to a room, in the ER.

The doctors monitored my vital signs, my levels. For many hours.

They informed me they had no detox unit anymore, that it was closed a year ago.

So, they let me sit there.

And go through the rest of it. Alone.

So I heaved, convulsed, shook and fucking died.

For hours.

My vital signs were good.

So, they gave me an Ativan.

Let me try to rest for a bit.

Then at 3AM, said they are discharging me.

"Do you have any way of getting home"

Uh, no.

I rode here from a mountain cabin for 40 miles in an ambulance. It is is now 3AM

"You can stay in our waiting area if you want" they told me.

So I did. For almost 2 hours.

There was a storm coming. A huge snowstorm. The were warning everyone to prepare for over a foot of snow. Starting this very morning.

My 2 dogs, and the last of the things I had, were still at the cabin.

So, I hired a cab.

To drive me in the pitch black. Back to the cabin. I was fortunate to have my wallet and cash, It cost me over 100 dollars.

Still shaking from the DT's, I arrived an hour before sunrise.

I got inside, packed the last of my things.

Waited for the beginning of daylight, because one of my headlights was out.

It was still 29 degrees in there. I kept moving. Kept active. Did all I could.

I got the car packed, somehow. I got the dogs in the back seat.

I got into the car. Praying to God to let me make it home.

With no sleep. Up for over 30 hours. After hours and hours of pure hell. Going through detox, with no aid.

I got behind the wheel.

And drove the 245 miles home.

Safe and sound. Calm and alert.

That is when God was there.

And that is when my faith returned.

I never would have made it. Without Him.

In a few hours, the storm came. And dumped 15 inches of snow at the cabin.

I would have died there.

Were it not for God. And a couple of His angels.

For the record. The hospital I was sent to, was the very same place my mother was born in, 85 years ago. She rode with me to the hospital. Even though she is gone almost 3 years now.

My Dream

In less than 20 months, I get a very nice pension from my former employer.

What will I do with that money?

Well, first off, 40 percent or so will go to my ex wife. She is hurting now, with serious medical issues. It will help her to have a life, a place to live and medical care.

The rest will go to the cabin property, and God willing, the property next door. I will preserve the cabin and land for my children and my brother's children.

I will hire someone to cut some paths through the spacious property (close to 20 acres, with a pond, swamp, woods and lakefront), for nature observation.

I will put out feeders, plant flowers and plants to attract birds and butterflies, and have a garden to grow crops and food for us who live there.

I will put out pathway lights, so we can search for the incredible moths who inhabit the dark, and the forest.

The Deer, Racoons, Black Bear and others will call this home. There will be food enough for the Herons, the songbirds, the migrants. Those just passing through.

And those of us, in our family, lucky enough to spend time there, will get to see it all.

We won't be spending our time on Jet Skis and power boats. We'll be savoring the wonder of nature. On our own private preserve. Our own refuge.

That is my dream.

I want to make that my reality.

I have 19 months to go.

Then.

It becomes real.

Out.

Of money.

Of a home.

Of a job.

Of luck.

Of happiness.

Of hope.

Of time.

Sweet Darkness

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired

the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone

no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark

where the night has eyes

to recognize its own.

There you can be sure

you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb

tonight.

The night will give you a horizon

further than you can see.

You must learn one thing:

the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

David Whyte

For Grief

When you lose someone you love,

Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence
Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.
Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

-John O'Donohue

Butterfly Lane

Butterfly Lane

The first sound you hear is that of a rolling stream, just below this coarse dirt and gravel road, surrounded on both sides by steep hills, and populated by enormous Hemlock trees. Sitting high in the Catskill Mountains of NY, it is barely noted on maps, yet is has been the source of incredible beauty, wonderful adventures, and painful memories for me.

Butterfly Lane. Its real name is Peas Eddy Road, and it originates in the small village of Hancock, NY. At first it courses along the East Branch of the Delaware River, but then becomes a dirt road, and cuts into the mountains, as it meanders past a working maple farm, and then, towards…nowhere. There are perhaps a few homes along its entire length, owned by those who either wanted a spectacular view, or those who wanted to not be bothered by this modern world. Tucked away in a remote area, away from cars, people, and noise.

When you are there, you realize that there are folks who do not want to be bothered by your presence. That is why they are there. So, you tread carefully and respectfully as you go. They came here and built a home for a reason. To be far removed from society and the hustle and bustle of suburban life. Or perhaps they and their families always lived in these mountains, so it is natural for them. Either way, you respect their privacy. So when I go, I go with careful steps, consideration and quiet, if I am near any of their homes. There are “POSTED” signs everywhere, ignoring those is at your own peril. Most people here are armed, and trespassing isn’t a “misdemeanor” for them.

I’ve met a few of them. They are curious about what this old guy with a huge camera is doing. As far as I know, I am the only one who has ever gone here to photograph the wildlife and butterflies. Most of them are very nice. I had one man say, “Do you want me to kill them for you so they stop moving so much?” I told him “No thanks! I really want them alive!” He was a nice man, just joking with me. Then he asked me what I was doing. I told him that there are very rare butterflies here, and explained a little about what I was shooting and observing. He seemed mildly interested. After talking a while, we discovered we knew some of the same people from the area, and from Somerset Lake, where I have my cabin. A very nice man, he wished me well.

Then, I met a totally different kind of person. They have a gorgeous, huge log home on the river. I stopped just past their home to get a shot of a Canadian Tiger Swallowtail. They saw me out of my car, and yelled over to me. “What are you doing?” “What are you taking pictures of?” They clearly seemed concerned that someone was near their property with a camera. I yelled “Taking a photo of a BUTTERFLY, and I am a NATURE PHOTOGRAPHER” That seemed to put them at a bit more ease. They have a sign by their house telling people to please not stop there. (There is a spectacular river view from where their house is) I was well past their home, but still made them uncomfortable. They want their privacy. A man with a 400mm lens makes them nervous. Why they think I would care about them or their house is beyond me, but this is how people are. I finished taking my shots of this gorgeous butterfly, and went on my way.

In my travels, I have discovered something. People are often afraid of photographers. And I have learned never to point my lens at them. It’s like pointing a gun to some people. Like you are going to steal their soul, or worse, put their photo on Facebook. You have to be very respectful and circumspect when walking around with a camera and a monster lens. Makes people very nervous. When I am out there, I carry a U.S. Marines K-Bar fighting knife. If I could legally carry a sidearm, I would, because you just never know. Nature photography takes you into unusual and often very wild places. I figure being armed is prudent. And carrying a camera with a long lens makes people doing bad things, nervous. And there are people out there doing bad things. Like logging areas they aren’t supposed to.

I ran into one such man last year. He stopped his huge truck (Filled with logs) next to my car. Asked me if I was lost. (I have out of state license plates, so everyone assumes I have no idea where I am). I explained no, that I have been up here for the last 50 years, and own property here. He wanted to know what I was doing. I lifted my camera to show him, and said “Nature Photography”. He repeated what I said back to me with as a question. I said “Yeah, I take pictures of the butterflies and birds here”. He then went on to tell me that you can never be too careful, and you never know who you may run into in these parts. To which I replied, “That is why I am always ARMED”. At that point, he decided to leave. He was obviously worried that I might be some reporter or agent for the Forestry Service trying to catch people doing bad things. You never can be too careful when out in the wilderness. Either the Bears will get you, or some asshole with a chainsaw will think you’re from the government trying to catch them on camera.

If I get the chance to talk to curious strangers, I explain what I do. And that often breaks the ice and they turn from being wary of an invader, to being curious about the photos I take, and what I see in their area.

I am en explorer by nature. And nature is what is so evident here, on this winding little road, in the middle of nowhere. I come here for the butterflies. To photograph them. And what a treasure trove it is, on Butterfly Lane.

White Admirals, Eastern Commas, Question Marks, Common Ringlet, Hoary Comma, Red Spotted Purples, Meadow and Great Spangled Fritillaries, Baltimore and Harris’s Checkerspots, Monarchs, Sulphurs, Tiger Swallowtails, Hummingbird Moths, the list goes on.

The unique environment there makes for an amazing assortment. The woodland butterflies, the ones who love moist areas, those who prefer meadows with all sorts of flowers. It is a convergence of habitat, and in summer, it is beyond spectacular.

This place has special meaning to me. It is one of those places where the memories of your past live. And the long shattered dreams are brought back to you like a tidal wave. When my kids were small, my former wife and I would bring them here. To catch some butterflies for study. We would take them back to the cabin at the lake, and after a while, release them. I would sketch them before letting them go. Those days were filled with smiles and laughter. A happy family, on vacation in this beautiful locale, enjoying nature. And then, it all ended. Today, I am divorced 6 years. My children are grown. Our house, our future, our planned retirement, our marriage, all gone.

When I pull onto that road now…every single time. I see our minivan parked there. My kids still young running around with butterfly nets, my wife there with me. It is the price I pay now to see and photograph the gorgeous butterflies that live here. I get to face a past that is long gone, and a future that will never be. And truth be told, that is why I do what I do now with such vigor and energy. It is a search for peace and beauty in the midst of a very painful and shattered life.

I stopped using a net a long time ago. Now, I capture them in all their glory with a camera, and an incredible piece of glass. The things I have seen and photographed astonish even me.

I can’t not go there. With all the pain of the past, it is still the place where the butterflies live. So, each time I go, I push through the tears, dry my eyes and my viewfinder, and look for those amazing butterflies. Every time I pull over, and turn off the engine in my car, I hear the rolling stream. I feel the cool air on my face as I step out of the car. I look over at the hillside, and there they are. Fluttering from flower to flower, landing on the dirt to soak up moisture, or nectaring on the salts of the earth.

I place the camera to my eye, and the journey of discovery begins again. The excitement builds. What will I see today? What new rarity might I find? I walk over anxiously to a flower where I see some action…and there he is. A gorgeous Baltimore Checkerspot! I focus, I fire. I’ve captured him!

These are the moments of not only my past, but of a lifetime of exploration and discovery, observing the incredible life that flourishes here. Working hard to get that shot and to see those incredible creatures, and to capture forever the image of one of God’s amazing creations.

On a road hardly traveled, tucked away in ancient mountains, with thousands of butterflies hardly noticed by anyone. I go there to see and admire them and take their picture.

The hardest part is wiping the water from my eyes, before I fire that first shot.

Welcome.

To Butterfly Lane.

Facing Death

The last car ride.

I take my faithful and loving best friend.

I put her in the back of my car.

My wife is with me.

She has no idea where we are going.

We are going to the vet.

To end her life.

The tears pour from the moment I get in the car.

We bring her inside the office.

I carry her.

In my loving arms.

We go into the room with the doctor.

The man I have known for 20 years.

He says we are doing the right thing.

I hold her in my arms.

The doctor gets out a syringe.

I hold her tight.

I tell her I love her. That I am so sorry.

And watch her die.

The Positive and the Negative.

What will win?

Will the pain of loss and crisis crush us. Or will our spirit prevail.

Can we overcome any obstacle?

Can we. Can I.

Have a real life, where happiness dominates misery?

I don't have the answer yet.

What I will say is this.

Of late I have rededicated myself to the good. To be optimistic, to work at something productive. To share good tidings. To look at the good.

While at the same time, virtually everything around me. Every person I loved. Everything. Falls apart in a smoldering ash heap.

When I look at just the facts.

My father now in debt to the IRS for an insane amount of money. The risk is the loss of his home, and the cabin and lake property I and my family hold so dear.

My ex wife. No matter the strife she caused me.

With a degenerative disease that will slowly rob her of the ability to have a normal life. Taking from her the motor skills to write. To walk. To speak properly. And eventually, to breathe.

I am almost out of unemployment insurance.

I am going to beg my company for a hardship release of money that I would normally be able to collect in 20 months.

I am working with all I have to try to stay positive.

I keep up the fight.

What I want more than anything on this Earth.

What I miss more than all I can say.

Is to one day again be able to come HOME.

Rest my weary body.

Hang my hat.

In a place where...

The bills are all paid.

We are all healthy.

There are smiles a plenty

There is a hot meal coming.

The house is ours.

And there is love, and happiness.

Where the positive outweighs the negative.

Where hope is finally realized.

And not crushed under foot. Or burned on a funeral pyre.

My Manifesto.

To my daughter, Jenni - Stop choosing fucking losers for boyfriends, stop feeling bad about yourself and realize your potential. You are gorgeous, sharp, incredibly intelligent and talented. Stop selling short. LIVE your fucking life and stop hanging on to assholes and losers who bring you down.

To my son, Billie - Keep working hard and striving to do great things. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't. Just keep on kicking ass. Nothing made me swell with pride more than to see you perform with the Caballeros and go to the championship finals with that world class corps. You are world class. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

To my ex-wife - I am sorry for your pain, loss and and the things you endure now. I loved you with all my heart, even though I wasn't always the best husband. I am sorry that you turned to others for attention, when you could have saved what we had. With just a little love and tenderness and understanding. I pleaded with you until the end, to save what we had, and to be able to have a life together. It was not to be.

To my father - You are a mixed bag. On one hand, the helper. The man who always comes through. The guy who never quits. The only problem is, you took control in return. Enough said.

To my brother - After seeing what infidelity did to my family, you go and do the same to yours. You will be forgiven when you do right, and make amends. Not before. I do not hold out any hope for this, because you are weak and selfish. Our mother would fucking hate you for what you have done. You live with that shame.

To my other brother - You are wise and you have shown me so much. When I was young, I thought you were the wild one. As I have aged, I have seen your love, kindness and wisdom. Thank you for that. You're crazy, but you're my kind of crazy. I will never forget the time we spent in San Francisco. What a ride!

To my mother - I miss you more than I can ever say.

To my friends - Thank you for standing by me. Those who have. Even though I have not always behaved well. The fact that you are still here for me speaks volumes.

To those who left - it was for a reason. I may not have been the nicest person. But I spoke from my heart. You didn't want to hear it. But in the end, it was the truth. I never lied. I told you what I felt and thought. It was harsh at times. But it was what you needed to hear.

To those I have hurt - I am profoundly sorry. I will do what I can to make amends if you let me. If you won't, then I will bear the burden of my actions.

To me.

I am above all else, a passionate, emotional and creative man. My love is in nature and the birds, and I will be true to that person. I won't go to my grave as some computer expert who had a good job. I am worth more than that.

Time to move on.

I just sent my last 60 dollars to my daughter, Express mail. She moved in with some loser in Brooklyn, NY, in the slums. No job for either of them, living in a shit hole. Why? I have no clue.

My ex wife keeps contacting me and wanting to know when the money will be coming for the rent for her.

She's suffering from a degenerative neurological condition now, that threatens her motor skills. I feel bad about that, and about what she is facing. But am I the knight in shining armor who is going to save her?

No.

I am an unemployed older man with no resources. (thanks in great part to her).

My father sends me an email yesterday.

Tells me that I need to survive to 55 (when I can get my pension), because he and I and the ex need that money.

That pretty much sealed it for me.

I'm moving on.

I have new birds to photograph, and a new life to build.

I won't be sticking around to see how that fucking disaster plays out.

You know, sometimes, you just have to leave it all behind.

And I am.

New photos and new birds await. I can't wait to post about them here.

It's time I started living.

Instead of dying.

Where I live.

You will find me in the quiet.

The woods before sunrise.

The edge of the marsh, with just the wind blowing gently,
The birds calling.

You'll not hear me

But you may see me there.

Should you venture into my world.

If you come, do so with soft steps, and hushed voices.

For it is here that I live.

And here that I train my cameras on the inhabitants of this beautiful world.

I wish to take nothing but their picture.

To be privilege and heir to millions of years of life and evolution.

For me it is a blessing most kind. To see the lives of these incredible creatures.

The birds.

They soar past me without effort, held aloft by their will and strength and the force of wind and air I cannot see.

What it must be like for them to see me standing here, anchored to the ground. Wishing I could so much as join them for a day. To see what they see. To feel the wind under my wings. To make an effortless turn and reach for the heavens, or dive swiftly like a missile towards the ground, only to pull up at the last second.

Sometimes I swear, I can see them smile at their own prowess.

This is where I live.

Among them.

I can never join them in the air. Though I dearly wish I could.

What I hope to do is to learn more about them.

To witness their amazing lives.

I have seen so much. So many incredible things.

My legacy, should I be so bold as to even proclaim that I have one...

Is to show you their world. Show you just how amazing and at times, awe inspiring it is.

I live there.

I'll show you.

Reflection on this life.

I have spent the last 5 days without power. No running water. Alone. Quiet beyond quiet, here in the mountains of New York State.

A beautiful setting to be sure.

Ravaged by a hurricane and over a dozen inches of rain, entire towns were wiped off the map.

I have 3 downed trees. One hit the garage. No damage thankfully. Could have been much worse.

I lost some food I had in the fridge. Not a lot, but for me, any loss hurts. I have so little money.

I spent 5 nights in total quiet. Not a sound. Not a voice. Pitch black except for a small oil lamp and a candle.

I learned a lot.

I learned who my friends are.

And who are not.

I learned that my father would rather have me STAY here in the dark, than return to his house.

I learned that my ex-wife's biggest concern is still whether or not I will have the rent money.

I won't.

I will have maybe half.

Why?

Because I needed food. Water. Ice.

So sorry. I have to survive. I guess I should just starve to death to pay.

To pay

and pay

and pay

and pay

So when does it become enough?

Now.

I have changed in these last 5 days.

I am angry.

And there are those among you say that anger is not the answer.

Well, yes it is.

You're wrong.

And I will tell you why you are wrong.

Because your life is comfy. Because you have not lost on this scale or even fucking close to it.

You think I need to be calm, cool and collected.

Nope.

I need to be angry, vitriolic, and violent.

Because that is what this situation demands.

It has come down to my survival.

Something NONE of my friends can speak to. For none of you have this experience, save for those of you who went to war. (for which I will be forever grateful).

But the rest?

You live in your homes, with your jobs and your kids.

You have comfort and security. You have a life. Even a basic life, but still.

Am I bitter? Oh fucking hell yes.

I was taken to the cleaners by a woman and the courts of this state, and laid to waste. I was destroyed.

The stress killed everything I had. My job, career and future.

I spent 5 days in the dark up here in the middle of nowhere.

And I come back from that with a vengeance.

I will not yield.

An not one soul will take one more thing from me.

I am done.

If you have issue with me, bring arms.

Because I will be loaded for bear.

The normal way never leads home.

If you could imagine the most incredible story ever, it would be less incredible than the story of being here. And the ironic thing is that story is not a story, it is true.

It takes us so long to see where we are. It takes us even longer to see who we are. This is why the greatest gift you could ever dream is a gift that you can only receive from one person. And that person is you yourself.

Therefore, the most subversive invitation you could ever accept is the invitation to awaken to who you are and where you have landed.

When your soul awakens, you begin to truly inherit your life. You leave the kingdom of fake surfaces, repetitive talk and weary roles and slip deeper into the true adventure of who you are and who you are called to become.

The greatest friend of the soul is the unknown. Yet we are afraid of the unknown because it lies outside our vision and our control. We avoid it or quell it by filtering it through our protective barriers of domestication and control.

The normal way never leads home.

Once you start to awaken, no one can ever claim you again for the old patterns. Now you realise how precious your time here is. You are no longer willing to squander your essence on undertakings that do not nourish your true self; your patience grows thin with tired talk and dead language.

You see through the rosters of expectation which promise you safety and the confirmation of your outer identity. Now you are impatient for growth, willing to put yourself in the way of change. You want your work to become an expression of your gift.

You want your relationship to voyage beyond the pallid frontiers to where the danger of transformation dwells. You want your God to be wild and to call you to where your destiny awaits.

.

The journey shows you that from this inner dedication you can reconstruct your own values and action. You develop from your own self-compassion a great compassion for others.

You are no longer caught in the false game of judgement, comparison and assumption.

More naked now than ever, you begin to feel truly alive. You begin to trust the music of your own soul; you have inherited treasure that no one will ever be able to take from you.

At the deepest level, this adventure of growth is in fact a transfigurative conversation with your own death.

And when the time comes for you to leave, the view from your death bed will show a life of growth that gladdens the heart and takes away all fear.

- John O'Donahue -