The current state of things. Detroit, MI

I’m currently sitting in the Detroit Metropolitan Airport. It’s midnight, and I will be sleeping here tonight. Crazy? Maybe. But why get a hotel…

I try and post something here every day, and I admit that when i don’t have something worthwhile to post, I feel a little bit guilty at the end of the day. But today was spent like many of my days– in transit. And to be honest I was too tired to take pictures or even soak in the usually interesting experiences that surround a trip on a plane. So as I was sitting here, leaning against the wall, trying to decide what might be interesting for you all, I decided it was time I shared a little bit of the other side of things.

Most of my blog is very image driven. There are two reasons for that. The first of which is that I’m a photographer. And so this blog is an outlet for me to voice (through images) my adventures as a vagablographer. But it is also because so much of this journey of mine over the last 5 months has been very formative, jarring, beautiful, and yes, many times, emotional. And I don’t think that I’ve been ready to share that side of things with the world yet.

In May I made a decision: to put all of my things in storage, and head out “on the road” with just my camera and some clothes. I would sleep on couches, street corners, beaches, floors, airports. Wherever I could find to lay my head. I would live simply– only carrying a few articles of clothing and only buying what I can eat a day at a time.

I wanted to live a paradox. To passionately pursue my craft: photography. And to even try and be successful at it. But to, at the same time, live in poverty.

I know I’ve failed at this in many respects. I’m an American consumer. But the little successes along the way have been life-changing and value-altering. I’ve had some really lonely moments where I’ve felt the least lonely I’ve ever been. I’ve been hungry but satisfied. I’ve been restless but content. Tired but energized.

Many people in my life that I’m close with have struggled with my journey. I think that has been primarily my fault. I haven’t always explained my motives. I haven’t always let people in. To them, I’m Jack Kerouac, restless, lost, wreckless. But how could I tell them? At so many times I’ve felt breathless and speechless at all I’ve seen, learned, and experienced. I haven’t known how to tell anyone. I’ve just updated my blog with interesting photos and hoped they’d understand.

But the truth is I’ve experienced loss. I purposely removed myself from consistent anything. I sleep on a different couch EVERY NIGHT, many times in different cities or states. I wake up in the morning, and I have to go find food. It’s not readily accessible. And I’m dependent entirely on my craft to find jobs, to make money, to eat and sleep.

I know it sounds silly. Because it’s easy to tell from my blog and from knowing me that I don’t live a hard life. And I know that. I’ve gotten to do some really great things. I’ve seen some really great places. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt the loss that comes with giving up a normal life– all the comforts that I’ve had my whole life, and venture out alone and with almost nothing to my name. Vulnerable. I guess that’s the word. Not necessarily impovershed, because I have lived lavishly by many standards, but I’ve been vulnerable. I’ve thrown my calendar to the wind– letting each day bring what it may.

It’s not all exciting adventures. Most of my days, in reality, are spent in a coffeehouse somewhere editing photos, sending e-mails, doing work– working a 9 to 5 essentially. But that doesn’t mean that in whatever city I’m in I don’t daily find adventures. That doesn’t mean I’m not daily blessed by the colors, sites, and sounds of our ugly-but-beautiful world.

To have these as my office:

(Clockwise from top left: Long Beach, California, Central Maine, Seattle, Washington, Marin Headlands, California, Golden Gate Bridge, Hodgdon, Maine)

And this on my morning walk:

San Francisco Bay

With this as my bed:

Hollywood, California

And places like these as my bedrooms:

Hodgdon, Maine

Central Coast California

To have met new people:

Bangor, Maine

Quint farm, Hodgdon, Maine

Ballard, Seattle, Washington

Delafield, Wisconsin

And had the opportunity to photograph new things:

Tyson Cecka, Traceur, Seattle

US Open of Surfing, Huntington Beach, California

Johnny Flynn, Tractor Tavern, Seattle

And experience new things:

Red Carpet, Beverly Hills, California

(Me) Cutting Hay, Maine

To be adventurous:

“Wheat Paste – Josh McBride,” Seattle

Rope swing, Maine

And to simply, at times, stand in absolute awe

Central Maine

Gasworks Park, Seattle

Niagara Falls

Northern Coast, California

I am not perfect. I’m far from it. I’ve made many mistakes along the way. But I do know, with confidence, that I wouldn’t trade the last 5 months for any other way of doing things. I’ve taken risks, chosen loneliness and discomfort, and have never felt so content. I’ve attempted to strip my self bare and found that God is good, and His world is beautiful.

As I’ve said many times before, it’s a season. And seasons come to an end. But I’m drinking it in while I can.

Detroit, Michigan