PixelatedImage Blog

Ladakh, India, 2008.

A year ago, on Easter weekend, I fell 30′ from a wall in Pisa, Italy. Most of you know that. I shattered both feet, cracked my pelvis and was told I would never walk the same again, and would “always have a limp, though you’ll limp with both feet, so it won’t look like a limp.” Whatever that means. A year later, after a couple surgeries, extensive rehab, and now the help of my chiropractor and trainer, I walked to dinner last night without the trace of a limp. It comes and goes, to be sure. Some days are better than others, and some days I need my cane. But through this year I’ve learned that I can do damn-near anything. So can you. The human spirit is a remarkable force.

I hit 40 this year. In those 40 years I’ve hit the ground more than once. Among other shining moments, I was diagnosed with diabetes when I was 20. I’ve divorced twice. I’ve gone bankrupt once. Each time I thought I’d never survive, would never live the life I wanted, would end up living in a box under a bridge, would wither from the shame of failure. But we bounce. We don’t have to, of course; we can choose to wallow, allow ourselves to be victims. Or we can say, F*ck it, take a deep breath, lean into the pain, and the fear, and move forward.

Have you seen the Honey Badger video on YouTube? (warning: NSF, rough language.) If I had a spirit guide, it’d be the honey badger.  We don’t all have bodies that do what we need them to, can’t all lean on good looks, or have above-average intelligence. But we can choose to endure, to persevere. I don’t want a perfect life; I want the courage to keep going, to sleep off the venom, to keep going, to bounce back. What’s Easter if not a celebration of the possibility of resurrection, and return from the darkest life has to offer?

We bounce, but it’s usually a choice. It’s that way in life, and it’s that way in art. And when bouncing isn’t enough, the truly blessed have friends to catch them, and you all carried me through moments this year, especially last May, that I didn’t think I’d come through. So this short post is simply to say “Thank you,” to remind you that you too will bounce back from the fall, whatever that is for you, and to wish you, from the bottom of a grateful heart, a Happy Easter.

Quebec City, 2012.

After an amazing night in Quebec City, wandering around in the fog and snow, we drove to New Brunswick and then to Maine. And when I say we drove to Maine, I do not mean we drove into Maine. We tried. But after 5 hours of questioning, an extensive vehicle search, and a second interrogation, I was told I was being denied entry to the United States of America, because “we have no proof you’ll return to Canada and we worry you’ll try to live here,” which nearly had me on the floor with laughter because, ahem, how do I put this? I like living in Canada. I have no desire to live in the United States. I want to travel the U.S., I want to photograph it, but I have no desire to leave my home. Which, as it turns out, is good, because they aren’t letting me. God knows they wouldn’t want a Canadian stealing the job of a Mexican. I just wanted to visit, man, not invade.

I was finger-printed, photographed, and made to sign transcripts of the interrogation on top of the line that said, “Signature of Alien,” which made me want desperately to sign, “E.T.”, “Mork”, or “Spock.” I couldn’t decide, so I signed my name on the form, and got back into the Jeep, grateful they’d only used the latex gloves while they searched the trunk of the Jeep, and not the trunk of, uh, ahem, me.

And so plans change and life presents new challenges. Last year it was shattered feet, this year it’s a breakdown in the diplomatic process. The reason for my denied entry, not technically a deportation because you have to be in the country before they kick you out and this law-abiding Canadian wasn’t even clever enough to make it that far, was that I have no fixed, verifiable address – a situation I’ve worked happily to free myself from. So instead of Maine, we’re heading to Nova Scotia. And then it looks like we’re hauling our asses coast-to-coast back to Vancouver, to find me a home, generate some paperwork, and get back on track to spend as much of 2012 as I can in the American West. Can’t say I am stoked about driving across this amazing country in the cold and the snow. But we’ll hit some amazing scenery, drive fast through the flat, frozen, parts, and spend time in Banff and then to Vancouver Island where the weather is stormy and amazing. And I’m not going to lie: I can’t wait to see Vancouver again. The home, wherever it is, will be just an office and a place to get my mail, and when I’ve got what Uncle Sam (right now he’s that creepy uncle that tickles too much, but I’ll get over that…) requires, I’ll be right back where I long to be.

So, for all of you expecting me to show up for beer or coffee, I’m going to need a rain-check. Thank you so, so much for you hospitality. I’ll be in touch over coming days. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that adventures never go to plan, and the more easily you roll with changes, the more opportunities you find in the shifts and turns of circumstance. It’s taking me a massive shift to see 2012 differently than I’ve planned it, but Lord am I glad I’m not having to do it from a hospital bed this time. I’ll keep you posted. For now I need a decent night’s sleep at this roadside motel, and tomorrow I’ll head to Nova Scotia. Assuming they let me in.

Shooting sunset in the Maasai Mara, while a ranger keeps an eye out.
Photo credit: Regis Vincent.

When Nicole S. Young’s ebook on MicroStock came out last year on the Craft&Vision site, we caught some flack for “supporting the microstock model.” We were told how unfair the model is, how it’s going to put photographers out of business, and how irresponsible it was to put out a book that helps people navigate these waters, unfair as they are. Then I read some bits and pieces of woe about the state of journalism and the decline of print media. Then this morning I spent time reading the blog of Joe Konrath, also not a photographer, but a well-known self-publisher in the fiction world. The pieces came together.

In VisionMongers I said that our businesses should be an act of creativity as much as our photography is. I believe that more now than I did before. So, if you’ll indulge a rant/sermon, hear me out on something. This rant’ll get worse before it gets better, so read through to the end. I promise to try to end without completely shipwrecking this.

One of the currents I detect in the arguments against microstock, though this rant is not specifically about microstock, is the same one I think I’d get from a whiny teenager whose father won’t let him use the car, except in the business world there is no father and if you want a car, you have to buy it. No one is going to hand it to you, no one owes you anything, most especially not a business model that’s just like the so-called good old days. The good ol’ days never were. The world changes, it’s not easy, it’s not fair, but it’s the same playing field we’ve always played on. People whining about the unfairness of the microstock model, or __________________ (insert random unfairness here) have forgotten that if they are self-employed, they are the rainmakers. No one else. So bitch about the lack of rain or get out and pound the button on the cloud-seeder like a rented mule. The question is not: is it fair? The question is: how badly do you want it?

Yes, once upon a time you could wait for the phone to ring and someone would pay you $500 for a photograph of a plate of pasta. ChaChing! They would tell you how to shoot it, when to shoot it, and you’d do it with a stylist and art director hovering over you, making you wish you were photographing drooling kids against wooded backdrops in KMart instead. But now the phone doesn’t ring. So some photographers, wanting to spend their time creating instead of bitching, still shoot the pasta. And pizza. And, well, whatever the hell they want. No art directors. Few stylists. And no, no one writes them a cheque that takes 6-8 weeks to arrive after you’ve invoiced them twice. Instead, they post those photographs to a microstock site, and they make $1. But they make that dollar 500 times. Or 1000 times. Or they don’t make a penny because their photograph isn’t remotely as good as others available to the same market, and they have to go back and do it better, get a little more creative and make a photograph that hasn’t already been shot. Unfair? It’s the fairest it’s ever been – it’s fair because it relies on how good your work is and how hard you hustle. But let’s be honest, the business world isn’t about fair. It’s about responding to how the world functions, and the needs of the people in that world, and finding a market for what you offer within that world. The ones who meet this challenge in the most creative ways, and with the most amount of elbow grease are the ones who make it, not the ones whining over a latte in a Starbucks somewhere.

So why did I mention self-publishing? Because the world of publishing is changing the same way the world of photography is. Is there as much money to be made by authors? Absolutely! In fact, there’s more! But it’s different. The same is true of journalism. Things are changing. Is it easy? No. Is it fair? Does it matter? EVERYTHING is changing. It always has. It always will. If you are in business for yourself as a photographer, your job, as the CEO of You Inc., is to meet those changes head on, to navigate the rough waters and do it in a way you love, while not sinking the ship. No one promised you safe passage. No one owes you a waveless voyage. You will get “there” (wherever there is) not by how good your photographs are (there are a lot of amazing photographers out there, have you noticed?) but by how creatively you engage your market, and how hard you hustle. Read that again. If you are floundering, it’s not because you don’t have a better camera or the same 85/1.2L lens that that other, more successful, photographer on the other side of town, or the other side of the internet. It’s because you aren’t being as creative as you thought you were or you aren’t hustling. That’s a broad brush to paint with but I believe it with all my heart. Everything I’ve learned in business tells me that. Stop buying gear and start buying books about business and new media. (BTW, how good your art is matters tremendously, it’s just a different conversation about a different thing.)

Yes, things are changing. They always have. But you can either make the change or react to it. Either way you need to be creative. You can do two things with your time on this earth – play the cards you’re dealt with all the energy and conviction you can, or whine and moan about how lousy your cards are. But whining and moaning never once changed the cards in anyone’s hand. Yes, Detroit was decimated by the economy, and it was left in literal ruins. But it’s making a come back. Not because it sat there feeling sorry for itself (ok, some did, but they aren’t the ones making the comeback), but because they got creative. They stood up, dusted off the seat of their jeans and looked the situation square in the eye and said, “OK. Now what?” It’s hard work. It’ll take time. And if you don’t love that work, give up now.

The opportunities to make  a living doing something you love in the creative arts has never, ever, been like they are now. The same things causing the massive shift away from old models (insert whining) are the same forces allowing us these new opportunities (insert creativity and hard work). There are more opportunities to show and sell our work, whatever that is, to more people on this planet, than any photographer or artist has ever had in any previous generation on this planet. If you want to make a go of this, the time has never been better. Assuming one of the reasons you want to do this is to be creative, to sail your own ship, and to enjoy the journey. There is no path waiting for you. You have to make it. There are no charts for where we’re sailing to, these are unknown waters. No one promised us a safe passage, and anyone that thinks they’re owed one will never get there – not because the waters are rough but because time spent whining and feeling entitled is time wasted while others are creating new sails and patching holes in the boat so they can sail a few days longer, or a little faster. It’s not easy. If you want easy, you signed up for the wrong journey. But make no mistake about it, everyone is on a boat. You can sail your own, or you can work for another captain. The difference is merely in who makes the decisions, not how rough the water is. We all weather the same economic weather, and ride out the same waves of change in technology, history, etc.

I want to say “you can do it!” and be really encouraging. And some of you – no, many of you – can do it, and can do it brilliantly. But only you can decide how badly you want it, how hard you’re willing to work for it, how creative you’re willing to be to get it, and how wet you’re willing to become in order to get there. To get to the other shore you need to let go of the one you’re leaving, accept the unpredictability of winds and waves, and shout into the raging storm at times, “is that all you’ve got?!” and then pull the sails a little tighter. I wish I could tell you more. But all I’ve learned from my journey that universally applies, is that the journey is worth it, and that it’s often harder than we wish it were. You’ve got a handful of years to do your work, don’t you dare waste those moments whining instead of creating something amazing. Don’t leave a legacy of risk-aversion and “I wish I’d…” to your kids. Don’t settle for hours in front of a large screen TV when you can have a larger life. Don’t settle for watching great stories when you could spend your time living one. Whether you can or can’t, whether you do or don’t, is up to you.

This one’s not going to appeal to everyone, but for those of you wanting to know more about Emily (my Jeep, and my home for the next year, starting a week from today), here’s the scoop. Yesterday I got her back from the shop after a few last minute modifications and she’s now ready to roll.

First, she’s a 2011 Jeep Wrangler Unlimited – Sahara Edition. The next step up, the Rubicon comes a little more trail-ready but then Jeep makes those decisions for you, and I wanted to do that myself. So I got the Sahara. Front and rear bumpers, expedition rack, ladder and back racks are all from Garvin Wilderness Products. There’s a Warn XD9000i winch and PIAA driving lights on the front. The suspension is a 3.5  inch lift from American Expedition Vehicles. Pro Comp Rock Crawler steel wheels and Goodyear Wrangler DuraTrac tires. All that meant I needed new gear ratios, so they did that too (going to 4.88, which means nothing to me just yet except that it gives me more torque to pull what is fast becoming a 5,000lb Jeep.).

Total Vertical Clearance? 8’4″ No parking garages for this girl.
ARB compressor under the hood for inflating tires and blowing dust off my sensors (totally probably kidding about that last bit.)

Under the hood there’s an ARB compressor for inflating tires (above), and the back holds an Engel 35 fridge/freezer and a Partner Steel propane stove on a double-slide from Adventure Trailers (below). The propane tank is a really little one from Kanz Outdoors, mounted beautifully in a custom cage to the back right-hand roll-bar. The back seats have been removed and put in storage in order to hold a little more cargo/crap, all in Zarges cases that are easy to stack and secure with ratchet-straps. The raised air intake (snorkel) is from American Expedition Vehicles.

Engel 35 fridge & Partner Steel stove on double slide from Adventure Trailers.

Up top, mounted to the Garvin expedition racks there’s a Columbus Variant Autohome rooftop tent, the large one, with room in front on the rack for 2 smaller Zarges cases (not shown), in which I keep stuff I don’t usually need, because frankly it’s a pain to pull them down. I found a solid and simple awning from The Camping Lab to protect from rain and sun. Here’s a shot from earlier this year showing the tent and awning up.

AutoHome tent up, Camping Lab awning out.

Shovel and Axe from Lee Valley Tools. Denali+ First Aid kit from Wilderness Medical Systems. Solar power, lamps, and extra 12v power from Goal Zero. And I got two sweet folding camp chairs from the Kermit Chair Company, that I adore. They’re beautifully handmade in Tennessee and roll up to nothing. Add a couple Go-Pro video cameras and as few extra clothes and other stuff as possible, and we’re ready to roll.

Emily and I, and friends along the way, are taking 2012 to drive, to take our time and explore and photograph National Parks, State Forests, and BLM lands in the American West. If you see us, say hi.

If you got through all that and have no idea what it all means, you’re in good company. I don’t either. This is a steep learning curve for me. But did I giggle like a little girl when I first attached the Jeep to a gigantic tree and winched it across the yard? Yes I did. And is it awesome that I have a fridge – and a freezer should I so need – in my Jeep? Also yes. And am I being a little bit like a little boy about all this? There is a distinct possibility, yes. But as Winnie the Pooh suggested, this is all too important to be taken seriously.

I’ll do a blog post about the intended route in the coming days. If you made it through this without your eyes glossing over you might be just the kind of person that would enjoy the OVERLAND EXPO in Arizona. This year it’s May 18-20 and I’d love to see you there.

I want to join my little penguin friend in wishing you a very Merry Christmas. If you celebrate Hanukkah, like much of my family, then a happy Hanukkah to you. If you celebrate something else, or nothing at all, then I wish you the same: peace, joy, and a new year that is filled with the same. I still celebrate Christmas, and I celebrate hard. It pains me that it’s so commercial, the heart of it being so much the opposite of all we seem to strive for at this time of year. Christmas to me is deeply personal, a celebration of the possibilities and hopes of the deepest longings of our hearts: peace on earth and the making right of all that brings us sorrow. It’s the annunciation of the angel to the world that God sees our tears and chooses not only to wipe them away but to share them. Some days it takes more faith than others to believe. Still, I believe.

2011 was a rough year. Like all years. It was also amazing. I lost, to cancer, a friend who was dear to my heart, and gained others. I mourn her loss, and celebrate the others. I celebrate this world of wonders in which we live, and the fact that not only can I still walk, but I’m still alive. I love this line from a Marc Cohn song: Maybe Life was curious to see what you would do with the gift of being left alive. Indeed. And I celebrate you all, gifts to me from a God whom I still believe to be good and kind, despite evidence to the contrary at times. In this season I am profoundly grateful for what, and whom, I have, both to God and to all those who by choice are gifts in my life. Thank you for every comment, every email. Thank you too for supporting me and my Craft & Vision team; every eBook you buy is a gift to me, keeping me and the 13 other authors and 5 others on my team at least partly fed. Your purchase of my books not only gives me an audience but a livelihood, and I don’t take that for granted, either. From the bottom of my heart thank you. And from all of us over here, we wish you the happiest of holidays, the merriest of Christmasses, and a 2012 filled with peace, joy, health, and the fullness of a life lived in gratitude. Merry Christmas, Friends.

I am a Ninja. Antarctica, 2011. Photo by John Birch

I am officially going off the grid on December 19. No more twitter, FB, blogging, or otherwise. I turn 40 on December 24, and will be offline, cuddled up, and celebrating 40 years. I’ve already got a wallpaper posted for January 01, and that’ll go up as the new year turns on the east coast of North America. From there I’ll post postcards as I can; I’ll be in Ethiopia and Kenya and Tanzania until February 01, then I’ll be back in full force. See you then. And until then, my very best of the season. Cheers!

Over a year ago I released Vision Is Better, essentially an eBook version of this blog, and it’s become one of the best-selling titles under the Craft & Vision umbrella, which I think is (a) awesome and (b) amusing. I’m not quiet about the fact that Vision Is Better, and now Vision Is Better, Volume 2, is really just a great re-hash of this blog; the last thing I want is to quietly sell you something you could get for free. The reason we offer it is because, well, you really can’t get this for free. We’ve taken the blog, pulled out a ton of the somewhat dated content, announcements, and general chaff, then we added a couple previously unpublished essays, took out some (but not all of the original typos) and had our Design Ninja, Luke Taylor, re-package it. And it’s yours to access on your iPad, or laptop, whenever and wherever you like. No surfing, no frantic looking for a wifi signal, no huge data bills just to find that essay you want to re-read.

Vision Is Better 2 is similar to the first in that we’ve collected the best essays from the blog, and bundled them together. It differs because this year was profoundly different for me, and so there’s some of that journey too. If you read this blog (and you do, don’t try to tell me you don’t!) you know this year wrapped itself around an unexpected life-changing adventure for me, and some of that is in there too. So is the Life is Short stuff. And the usual rants. And bigger photographs than what you get on the blog. Frankly, it’s what this blog should be, but isn’t because I’m busy and these walls don’t just fall off themselves, you know. (Inside joke which you will totally find hilarious if you buy this ebook.)

If you read this blog (see comment above!) then think of this as your yearbook. If we meet in person I’ll sign it. If you do not read this blog (ahem), then you’ll still want it because, I believe, it can make you a better photographer. No, not like that new lens was meant to do. If there’s one thing I believe will make us all stronger photographers, it’s mindfulness. Intent. (Please don’t make me use the word “vision” again.). The subtitle for Vision is Better was Free the Mind, Free The Camera. This time it’s Free The Mind, The Camera Will Follow. Same, same, but different, (as they say in S.E. Asia) because the reason I continue to write remains the same: the way we think is the way we see, and we’ll make better photographs when we spend as much time honing our minds and our hearts as we do memorizing the buttons on the camera.

As you can imagine, there’s a ton of pages in this thing. If you love this blog and don’t want to shell out $5, it’ll still be here as it always is. Free. But if you want to access this content over and over again, in a format that’s easier to read, a little more intentionally curated, and includes a couple essays I’ve never published, then it’s all yours, as it always is, for only $5. Unless you buy it this week, then it’s only $4. And of course, those of you with a subscription to the Craft & Vision Community, this is yours to download for free this month.

Save $1 – Pay just $4 if you use coupon code VIB4.
Save $3 – Get the Vision is Best Bundle for $7 if you use coupon code VIB7.
Save 20% – Get 5+ PDF eBooks for less if you use the discount code VIB20.

These discount codes expire Wednesday, December 21 at 11:59pm (PST).

Emily, just back from the final trip to the outfitters and ready for February.

A friend once told me to watch the Pixar movie UP. Aside from the fact that I was crying like a little girl within the first 10 minutes (be warned), there was something about it that resonated powerfully with me. Part of that was the exploration of the idea of adventure. The phrase “Adventure is Out There!” is sounded often in the movie, like an anthem, and while that adventure generally refers to the journey of the unlikely heroes to Paradise Falls, South America, it’s also clear that, for at least one of the characters, the greatest adventure was love. It’s touching, and it should be no surprise to anyone the comes here once in a while that I’ve come close to having Adventure is Out There tattooed over my heart.

In February, a year after I started the adventure that went wildly off the rails, I’ll resume my road-trip, but it is not a resumption of the adventure; the adventure never stopped. No adventure ever goes to plan, and if it was adventure I wanted when I set out in my ’93 Land Rover Defender, JESSIE, it’s adventure I got. I made photographs in the rain all the way down the Oregon coast with my friend Dave Delnea, until he got into the Poison Oak, became so hideously deformed he was scaring children, and had to leave the country. I photographed and camped in Death Valley with my best friend and manager, Corwin, and then through Monument Valley and Zion, and into New Mexico, camping the whole way, and photographing as we went. I drove to the Gulf of Mexico. Spent time in New Orleans. Hung out with friends in Atlanta. I flew to Italy and fell in love. I also fell off a wall and shattered my feet. I came home and crawled my way through healing until my bones mended and I went to rehab. And then a couple days after they let me go home I jumped a plane for Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand, where, among other things, I joined 8 new friends as we floated down the Mekong River in a long-boat. And then there was Oaxaca, and Roatan, and then Antarctica. So much of it was unexpected, so much didn’t go to plan. And all of it was gloriously life-giving. And as strange as it sounds, I truly wouldn’t change a thing. This has been one of the most extraordinary years of my life.

I don’t want it to end. Being nomadic is teaching me so much, and while I’ve been sojourning at my family home for the last few months, and while I learned to walk again, I got more time with my family than I’ve had in 20 years. You can see why the idea of returning to so-called normal doesn’t really appeal. So on February 01, I return from travels in Ethiopia, Kenya, and Tanzania, and pack EMILY (above. I’ll do a Jeep-geek post some other time) and head out.

Adventure is out there, but it’s also in here. It’s an inner game. What separates adventure from the mundane is an openness to the unexpected and a willingness to embrace it, laugh your way through it when you aren’t gritting your teeth, and learn from it. It’s not a freedom from fear, it’s an unwillingness to let it have even one day of your already beautiful, short, fragile, one-of-a-kind life. It’s being present, 100% in your art, your relationships, the way you raise your children, and the way you open your heart to strangers. You can do that from a hospital bed, unable to move, and you can do that from the base camp of Everest. It’s a choice, a posture of the mind and heart. It is not the exclusive domain of the privileged, the healthy, or the strong. It is for all of us that, if you’ll pardon the worn cliche, are willing to hear the music and have the courage to dance without shame.

Tonight we launch Vision Is Better 2, the follow-up of the first one of the same name. It’s 44 essays, almost all previously published here on this blog, about the photographic life and craft. It includes much of my own adventure from this year and lessons learned. And it includes a couple un-published essays. Essentially it’s a sweet re-design of the best blog posts from the last year, available in one place, off-line, and always available. It’ll be available right here on the blog, with discounts as usual during the first week after launch. Whether you chose to buy the book, or not, thanks to you all for being part of this amazing adventure. Some of you were with me, in this blog, Twitter, and FB, through my darkest times, and made them lighter. Some of you were with me in Italy when I fell, in Laos when I made my first scared steps back to traveling, or in Antarctica as I experienced what it feels like to create work I love for the first time in a long while. Thank you so, so much. You remain my fans, friends, and family, but more than that you remain, in the most sincerest terms, my heroes. Thank you.

Today marks my 1000th post, more if you count some of the drivel I edited out when I moved this blog over from Typepad years ago. I had all kinds of ideas about how to mark this 1000th post, but none of them were exceptionally good, and to be honest all I really want to say is Thank You. I’ve said that a lot lately; I’ve got a great deal to be grateful for, and your kindness, support, comments and readership mean the world to me. This blog has put me in touch with a huge community of amazing people and in turn that community has allowed me to keep building this thing, one post, one eBook, one printed book, at a time.  I’ve met so many of you, emailed others, and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I feel like the luckiest man in the world. Thank you.

Speaking of luck, it doesn’t always hold. 10 weeks ago I fell off that wall in Italy. 10 weeks! Here’s a quick update. I’m now almost 9 weeks post-op after the surgeries to fix my feet. My cracked pelvis is now healed. Every day I’m a step (metaphorically mostly) closer to recovering. Two weeks ago my surgeon cleared me to begin putting weight on my left foot (50%) and in two weeks I can put 100% on that foot and begin putting some weight (25%) on the right.

June 22, 2011, First day on crutches.
Smiling on the outside, scared of falling down on the inside.

Learning to walk again is a terrifying thing, but each day brings a little more confidence and a little less pain. I’m scheduled to be in rehab as an in-patient for much of August, and by the time I get on a plane to Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand in September it’ll be 4+ months, and I’ll likely be traveling light (think Fuji x100, small tripod and an iPad), possibly with a cane.

Somewhere in there I’ve got to get back to Atlanta. I almost feel I left my heart there. Jessie is still there and if there’s one thing that’s been hard about all this it’s knowing that my plans have gone completely sideways. That part’s OK; an adventure that goes to plan isn’t an adventure, it’s just a plan. But the two months I had on the road were among the happiest I’ve ever been. Not easy, but amazing, waking every day to a feeling of “this is what I was created to do.” I miss that adventure and while Jessie sits waiting I’m scheming and filling my poor mother’s home with the expedition gear that will prolong this adventure through 2012 once I’m back in the saddle. Anyways, as this whole thing went in a different direction than planned I’ve decided to spend most of 2012 in the American West, but I’ll take some time getting there this time. And if I can do a whole year without falling off a wall, I’ll spend 2013 in Europe with Jessie or her cousin. But you know me and plans these days, so….

Jessie and I on the first day of our adventure, in Tofino, B.C., back when I could walk and stuff. Can’t tell you how excited I was. Jessie’s parked in Atlanta, and overstaying her welcome, with a friend right now. Sit tight, lass, I’m coming!

Through this I’ve been stunned by your support and kindness, so again, thank you. I am so luck to be alive, so grateful to have avoided paralysis. This whole journey has given me all kinds of unexpected gifts, new friends, profound lessons, time with family, and a deeper appreciation for the grace to live life moment by beautiful moment. I never in a million years imagined that starting this blog would give me what it has. I wanted readers; what I got was colleagues, friends, the odd stalker, and a handful of people that feel suspiciously like family. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Raising my glass to you and hoping you’ll join me for the next 1000.

All photographs on this post can be enlarged. Just click the image.

January’s Maasai Mara Within The Frame has just been announced. I’ll link you to details in a moment.

2 years ago I went on my first Safari and it changed me in ways I never imagined, probably ways I’d have a hard time communicating. In part it was the life-long friends I hadn’t counted on meeting. In part it was the way my first elephant sighting took my breath away. It was the way I woke one morning to watch – breathless – as the sun rose into a full solar eclipse over Mt. Kenya. It was the people, the pace of life, the quality of light, the way every hair on your arm stands up when a male lion walks towards you without blinking. What I mean to say is, going back feels like home and I’m so, so excited to be there again this January.

That first Safari blew my mind, and enlarged my heart. We repeated it last year and instead of slipping into apathy over animals I’d already seen, my feelings grew. This year we’re doing it again. But it’s different. We’re traveling much less, which means more time to go out on game drives. Animals and light aren’t staged, you wait for them, look for them, go out after them day after day. Less travel means while the sun is high we have more one-on-one time for image critiques, portfolio reviews, informal teaching that meets you on your own level, and still have plenty of time for a swim at a pool that overlooks the savannah.

This safari is the one I’ve wanted to do for the last two years. We’ll spend time in villages, among the Maasai, and we’ll retire each night in tents, safe but close to the wilderness we travel so far to see. When I say tents, these are gorgeous accomodations. There are many ways to experience Africa, this is one of the most beautiful. I’ve stayed in lavish 5-stars and in stick huts, and if I had my choice, these beautiful Hemingway-style tents would be it.

Kenya will change you. If you’ve ever wanted to travel to Kenya and see it close, at the pace needed by photographers, this trip gives you that, as well as more time than any of our previous adventures, to talk about photography and learn your craft.

More information about the Maasai Mara Within The Frame Adventure is available on the micro-site HERE. There is also an extension to the coast to stay on the island of Lamu after our time on the Mara is over, and if you’re feeling a particular need to see more of Africa, the adventure to Lalibela, Ethiopia over Orthodox Christmas still has two open spots . My partner in crime on this adventure, and all Within The Frame Photographic Adventures, is Jeffrey Chapman and we can’t wait to welcome the very small group that will be joining us for this time together.

Quick snapshot by Corwin, one morning this spring in Death Valley. The over-zealous use of the high-pass filter can only be blamed on me though.

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Keep reading, I did the draw for the Artist Print of Twilight I, Tahoe this morning and I’ll announce the winner  at the end of this post.

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Another idealistic post this morning, I’m afraid. I blame Gary Vaynerchuk. Once in a while I re-read his book Crush-It! or watch a podcast and he fires me up, reminds me that even the sermons I preach myself could be preached with greater conviction. Two nights ago I watched this video and since then have re-watched it at least a half-dozen times: Watch it on YouTube HERE or click the graphic below.

You should watch it. It’s 15 minutes of ranting by a very passionate and intelligent man that has the chops and credibility to back up what he says.

Last week I did a podcast with Martin Bailey, a photographer I both like and respect. He recently discovered he had a brain tumour. My massage therapist just buried his mother. Others that I know have lost and are losing loved ones. Life is short. And as Gary says, we have one chance at this. One. And if you thought I was on a tear about how short life is and how intentionally we need to live it, with every word and breath and waking moment, it’s going to get worse.

Here’s some soundbites from Gary (warning, the language gets a little rough) Some of these bites will apply to everyone, some are more specific to the VisionMongers in the crowd. But if you get nothing else from the video, ask yourself – what am I that passionate about.

“Let’s start with passion. There is [sic] way too many people in this room right now, that are doing stuff they hate. PLEASE STOP DOING THAT. There is no reason in 2008 to do shit you hate. None. Promise me you won’t. Because you can lose just as much money being happy as hell.”

“Let’s talk about community. Listen to your users, absolutely. But giving a shit about your users is WAY BETTER. People listen but they don’t do anything. Doing something, answering those emails, giving a crap, caring about your user base – that’s what you need to do.”

“You need to care about everything, and it starts with yourself. Look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself, What do I want to do everyday for the rest of my life? DO THAT…whatever you need to do, DO IT.”

“Stop crying and just keep hustling. Hustle is the most important word ever. And that’s what you need to do. You need to work so hard.”

“Legacy is greater than currency.”

“If you for a second – a half a second – don’t believe in what you’re doing, whether it’s your personal brand or the product you represent, GET OUT NOW. We only get to play this game once. One Life.”

“The only way to succeed now is to be completely transparent. Completely. Everything is exposed. Everything you do. So your legacy is your ultimate life. It’s all you’ve got. And you can build so much on that. When you have brand equity so much can happen.”

“I don’t want to hear about this nine to five bullshit. I don’t want to hear about this 2 job thing, 9-5, I don’t have time. If you want this, if you’re miserable, or if you don’t like it, or you want to do something else, and you have a passion somewhere else. Work 9 to 5, spend a couple hours with your family. 7 to 2 in the morning is plenty of time to do damage. But that’s it. It’s not going to happen any other way.”

“If you’re doing something else and you want to do this thing you love, you do it after hours. You work 9-6, you get home, you kiss the dog, and you go to town. You start building your equity in your brand after hours. Everybody has time. STOP WATCHING F*CKING “LOST”!”

The reason this hit me so hard recently is I keep putting out these thoughts, and I get pushback – reasons people can’t do what they want to do. But you know what most of it is? It’s reasons they won’t even try. And if I can push just one person over the edge to travel the world, to build an amazing business, to pursue a personal project, then it’s worth it. Because you’ve got one crack at and your kids aren’t an excuse. Don’t you dare use your children as a reason not to pursue something you think you were made for, or called to. Telling your kids they can do anything then leaving them with a legacy of safety and risk-aversion and mediocrity is no way to love your kids. Yes, you’ll do things differently, but do them all the same. If it’s travel, and so many on this blog are travelers, then sell your second car, forget the big-screen TV. Scrimp and save and hustle and do whatever it takes to do that thing you lie awake at night thinking about. Clear your debt, work your ass off, but there is no excuse not to do what you love. Don’t have enough time? I love that last line from Gary. Stop watching f*cking LOST. Turn the TV off. Sell it. Use your time for something that will really and truly make a difference in your life. Or at very least stop telling people you’d conquer the world if only you had time.

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After 760 comments on the post about Twilight I, Tahoe, we used the Random Number Generator to bypass the desire to pick someone cute and single, and instead are happy to announce that this print will be shipped out to Steve Scherbinski. Congrats Steve. Please treat it well. We’ll send you an email and get you particulars.