Was there ever a time that I did not love writing? If so, I can’t remember back that far. A decade or so ago, along with other life changes, I started exploring fiction, memoirs, and creative nonfiction to complement my essays. For me, writing is always about the melody and the rhythm, as well as the light and the image.
Around the same time, I went to law school as a “nontraditional” (read middle-aged) student. After a couple stressful days in an auditorium at Michigan State University, packed with 1,000 other folks taking a bar exam, I survived and joined the Michigan bar as a newbie lawyer. I have the opportunity to write a lot at the day job, but felt the need for a place to express more creativity than is allowed within the four corners of a legal brief, and to share my feelings with others. Voila! Blogging.
When I began, I thought my posts would be all about writing. Serendipity is a gentle goddess, though, and I soon rediscovered my passion for photography. With the aid of my fellow bloggers, I have worked on presenting a vision and, hopefully, conveying a sense of spirit through pictures as well as words.
Politics has always been my passion, but not what passes for politics in our time, poisoned as it is with partisan rancor. No thanks, not interested in that scene. Only as we as a society can reintroduce spirituality, in all its emanations and wonder, into the political process (in the broadest sense) can we really extricate ourselves from the swamp and find a path forward. And it would surely help if we could in our journey find faith between men and women, too.
The arts suggest to us the hidden potential for change in society. In the distemper of these times, beauty can be subversive. In my writing and photos, I hope to evoke some of the spirit in my favorite art, of all forms.
The spirit of liberty is the spirit that is not too sure that it is right; the spirit of liberty is the spirit which seeks to understand the minds of other men and women; the spirit of liberty is the spirit that weighs their interests alongside its own without bias.
Judge Learned Hand, 1944
…and alas a spirit that is noticeably absent from the current
political and cultural landscape of the United States.
Would you believe the elements of a Michigan January: Earth, Air, Water & Frozen Water?
As I read in a colorful legal opinion from long ago, “They that know the winters of that country know them to be sharp and violent, subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places . . .”
The texture of water is no more constant than the spectrum of human emotions. In a wild river, it can be rough and raucous. While in a northern lake, its surface can reflect the summer sky as if the still water were a mirror. And then there are those streams where water’s texture can evoke the whimsical on a warm afternoon.