San Francisco

On the Cusp of 2020

Sometimes, you find yourself in the middle of nowhere; and sometimes, in the middle of nowhere, you find yourself. — Unknown


Born at the birth of the 1960s, I’ve always viewed a decade change as my own personal milestone.

I remember the end of 1969, pedaling my bike down a tree-lined Van Nuys street.  At the end of 1979, I drove my VW Thing down the Ventura Freeway, twilight closing in on me.

The night the 80s ended, I was up in Tahoe, alone with the flu.  And the night we rang in the new millennium, I stood up for a friend at his surprise L.A. wedding.

Tonight, as neighbors fire gunshots into the San Francisco fog, I’ll remember the start of 2020 as spending the night at home with my son — making some dinner; laughing at some videos; staying up till midnight, talking.

Such a blessing to put in my pocket as bullets rain down from the sky.


Lotsa Portrait Practice

Despite computer meltdowns in mid-April, some of which weren’t corrected till late-May, I kept myself detached and distracted from all the drama by drawing and painting quick small portraits…

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Sometimes, computer meltdowns will yield surprising results — provided we let go of the drama and discover what’s there to be found.

San Francisco Skylines

High and low depend on each other. Before and after follow each other. 

                                                                                 –Lao Tzu, Tao 2

Always looking up as I move around the bay…

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Looking down as well…20190329b

I love the old-time architecture…

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The modern skyline, too…



Two Meditations

Did a detailed study of Yogi Ram from Mexico…

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Plus, another of a brilliant urban sunrise…

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So much more to enjoy this year!


S.F. Mission Street Sketches

Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine.         — Shunryu Suzuki


My meditation practice has me walking down Mission Street every few days…


When something stirs my wu wei, I stop and snap a pic with my cell phone, then continue on my way…


Sometimes, I’m moved by fruit for sale.  Sometimes, by historic architecture…


Sometimes, by someone else’s sad misfortune…


Other times, by something small and simple…


Eventually, I make my way back home…

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