Ants On A Rock, Halfway Between The Atoms And The Stars.

Florida From the ISS, Where We Live

I love looking down into a valley where I can see the curve of a river, or the shape of a town, and then compare that mental image to a map of the state or country to get an idea of my size relative to the earth, or the natural formations around me.

This image was taken by an astronaut on the ISS, and shows Florida at night. I can see the shape of Cape Canaveral, and even the tiny tiny little tip of light (just below the tip of the arrow) where the bridge from Titusville to Cape Canaveral is, and where I often go to sit and watch the yachts on the Indian River. I see formations of light that I recognize as towns and areas where I have driven and walked, and ridden my bike. I can imagine how it must feel to be up in the ISS looking down and seeing familiar places, and think about the memories shared on those small specks of light. It must be an amazing feeling to be high above the earth, but close enough to recognize land-forms and visualize your place on the little blue jewel that is the earth.

I will probably never go to space, commercial space-flight is far enough out that I probably will be too old to go, but I love looking at images like this, and thinking of myself and others like little specks on a small ball of rock spinning through the cold depths of space. We are in a peculiar place, half way between the atoms and the stars, small enough to be insignificant, and yet large enough to comprehend the laws governing the heavens.


Utility > Obligation

My 1995 Jeep Wrangler YJ

When your obligation to an item outweighs its utility, it is time to cut the connection to that item.

I have fallen into the trap of saving something because I might need it someday, and so I have carried things half-way across a continent in the imagining that I will have a use for it again, and so I shouldn’t get rid of it. That almost never ends up being true for me, and I end up collecting all this junk that piles up and never seems to diminish. I go thorough periods where I will purge stuff, but that usually only leaves room to collect more.

Just this week I finally got rid of a set of flush-mount LED tail lights that I originally bought to put in my 93 Jeep Wrangler, (way back in like 2002) I ended up going with another style of light, and so I kept these lights (4 round tail lights, and 2 side-marker lights) in the thought that one day I would need them again, after all, they were BRAND-NEW!! why waste them?

Time went by, I sold my first Jeep, and moved, and moved again, then after a few more years I bought another Jeep YJ, so yay! I am going to use these lights!!

Nope…. The Frame-off restoration project I had in mind never happened, and 2 years later I sold that Jeep. I still had those lights.

I moved to Florida….And brought those lights with me.

I moved stuff around, in and out of storage… I still had those lights.

Last week I sold them on Ebay, and shipped them out to someone who hopefully will use them as I originally intended. Funny thing is that I could have done that at any time since I originally went with a different style and no longer needed them, and if I had ever wanted them again, I could have just gone on Ebay and bought more. It’s not like they are particularly rare or hard to find, in-fact I would have been better off if I had sold them right away, because they are about 1/5th the price now that they were when I bought them over 10 years ago, so I wasted that money, I wasted the opportunity cost of having to carry the things everywhere with me. I wasted the space they took up; I wasted the mental energy that I spent thinking about my obligation to do that project someday. In-fact each time I saw a jeep sitting for-sale somewhere, I would think: “I miss my jeep, I want another one, and then I can use those lights”

Now they are gone, my mind is at rest at-least as far as jeep-lights are concerned.


Creativity Is A Resource More Than A Muscle.

Creativity Is A Resource

I have lived with the idea that creativity is a muscle that increases in strength the more you use it. I imagined that it was something that I could improve with time, as I kept making more art and refining my technique, perhaps creative ideas would flow liberally and this would be an upward spiral feeding on itself.

I was working a full time job that while I did enjoy it, it wasn’t a creative position, I was working according to a formula. I was solving problems, but they weren’t really creativity problems, and so my ‘creativity muscle’ wasn’t being used very much. I assumed that once I broke out of that routine, and was able to use my creativity more (in starting new ventures, creating new things, making new things, writing, editing, and designing) that I would flow into that routine and have creativity bursting at the seams…

Now that I am in the middle of that new paradigm shift, and creativity is required in all moments of my life, I find that I see it much more as a precious resource that can be wasted, and exhausted if spent poorly. I have been allowing my creativity to spill out of every crack and crevice in my life, I have been persuing every little idea and speculative thought that creeps into my head, and after a few months of this, I realize how draining this can be, and I am trying to reign in my wild abandon at getting into new things.

I am disappointed that I have run into this wall, but it only makes sense that creative work will become exhausting just the same as physical work exhausts bodily resources and must be conserved carefully.

I pondered that idea over the weekend, as I ran completely out of ideas last week because I was spending too much of my time making things and brainstorming, but this week is the start of a new phase, I will be more careful not to waste my creative energies on unimportant things.

Time to get cracking!


Inspiration To Travel

Twenty Eight Feet: life on a little wooden boat from kevinAfraser on Vimeo.


I read the book: ‘Dove’ by Robin Lee Graham, and somewhere stashed away, I have the original National Geographic Magazine articles about his travels, and this video makes me re-live reading those books. Here is a young man also on a small yacht sailing away for adventure.

I moved to Florida partially to someday experience this lifestyle, I ride past the yachts every morning, many of them have names of faraway places painted on their bows, I have seen Australia, Greece, England, Mexico, and the Bahamas to name a few. I imagine what it would be like to embark on an adventure like that. To set sail and not return for months or years, who knows where the wind will take me..



Molars Of Time


The morning sun low on the horizon, riding my bike early in the spring; while the northern leaves are still un-budded, and the grip of an icy winter is still fresh in the mind.

I used to ride my bike to the local “Tim Hortons” bake shop and Coffee shop when I had the time, and was otherwise free. These are the moments; preserved only in my memories and a few photographs taken over the years, those days are gone, and will never return… I have moved on, I don’t live in the north anymore (and I am glad of it) but I will miss those crisp mornings when the snow was finally gone, and I could take my bike out again. I will miss the feeling of new beginnings in the spring and of discovery and excitement to be back on the bike after a long cold winter.
The traitorous gravel on the sides of the path, the deep gashes in the pavement from the snow-plow blades were obstacles to avoid, people finally coming out of their homes in short-sleeves again even though it was only in the 50s….
That is what a northern spring feels like.

I have moved on to new things, to new ideas and areas… My memories will fade over time, I will eventually forget completely and then I too will be forgotten.. Time creeps slowly on, devouring memories, consuming concepts, dreams, fears and hopes.. Eventually times change, people form new habits, cities evolve and grow, or shrink and return to the wild. The morass of humanity keeps on building and destroying, ants building castles in the sand, one grain at a time, yet the wind comes up, and the rains fall…

The blunt teeth of time grind on.

“If it requires a uniform, it’s a worthless endeavor.”

-George Carlin

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