Staying true to the focus

Everything that has its start in insignificance.

Runs the risk and indignity of being taken for granted.


Walking along Grays Creek in Calvert Cliffs State Park in Maryland


Staying true to the foundations of what we are. Allows for exponential growth that can and will boggle the mind.


Continuing along Grays Creek.

Accusations of not being majestic enough must fall on deaf ears, if we are to persevere.


The Creek turns into a bog...

Listening to the echoes of self expands the boundaries of what we thought we knew…

Teaching us that we know nothing. Thusly, we grow, gaining in power and influence.


The Creek finds its beauty

When the clarity hits, we are like the torrential current of a stream. Who, what and why would anything dare to deny?

Our undeniable majesty and power, that was there all along. The only tool needed to expose it… Patience.

The metaphors I encountered on Stone Mountain

In retrospect I didn’t know what I was getting into. I had been wearing a knee sleeve for the past week and the knee was feeling better than it had in a while.

And I couldn’t wrap my head around missing out on a opportunity that was within my grasp.

Georgia’s Stone Mountain was mine for the taking…

So like I do with any park that I have in my sights… I walked.


I saw the warnings, but I openly scoffed at them.

Closing myself off from the world that I am walking from is a metaphor of sorts, each time is different than the last.


Such is life…

Often we encounter something ugly that would leaves us inclined to turn around and head in the opposite direction.

Seeing the Confederate flag waving in the wind stirred something inside of me, the ugliness and the subjugation that it personified left my face twisted in a permanent sneer of sorts.



The digust melted away as I looked at what laid ahead. I grinned broadly and scampered up the mountainside.


As I moved on the incline seemed to steepen, the sweat began to sting my eyes. As continued on I found myself drinking heavily from the water that I had packed in my bag.


Just as it seemed I was getting closer the farther it turned out to be. Maybe the writing was on the wall and I was oblivious to the message that was being conferred.

But… I wasn’t alone, there was a number of people pressing on just as I was. I watched and procured power from their efforts.

Such is life..


I reached a point when I saw the last stretch of my journey, it was a steep climb up to the top and I couldn’t deny the audible wheezing that masqueraded as my breathing.

I collapsed on a rock and took in the shade while gulping down a mouthful of water taking care not to waste a drop.

I looked through the branches at the sun beating down on my skin and thought that I was going to appreciate reaching the top more than I would enjoy it.


After about 8-10 minutes of questioning my resolve, I got up and forged ahead. Holding onto the rail tightly as I pulled myself up.


The overlook was tempting, but I stayed on the path.


So many people engrossed in the effort.


Reaching the top…


Now I had to contend with losing my breath because of the awe inspiring beauty that comes with being 1,686 feet above it all.


I was a little closer to the peace of mind that I always find myself searching for on these walks.

It is a exercise in consistency as I never doubt the presence of God because it is enveloping and all encompassing.


I entertained the thought of taking the cable car down, but I decided against it.


I reclined underneath a outcrop of trees and let the solace marinate as I always do.

Where progress goes to die

Riding my mountain bike has been a medium for clearing my mind over the past couple of years. I was on mile 11 of my ride today somewhere in the confines of Baltimore’s Druid Hill Park, when I encountered St. Paul’s cemetery. One of the most interesting elements about the city for me is how everything is built around the cemeteries.

I thought of a quote that a friend of mine had referenced in some of the work that he does with young people in the city, and felt compelled to get off the bike to chew it over.

“He who rejects change is the architect of decay. The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery.” -Harold Wilson



It is a sobering thought, considering all of the finger pointing, blame gaming, righteous indignation that transpires in our political discourse, social interactions and the like.

The solution?

That’s the million dollar question.

The only thing I came up with was to keeping pedaling, I got back on the bike and rode off.

Visiting Mother and letting her talk

When Mother Nature opens her door she doesn’t care if you wipe your feet or not, she just wants you to feel better than you did when you came in.


Everything is in order, her interior decorating skills are without equal.




If she tells you to pull up a seat, you pull up a seat. Respect your elders.




The stories have no words but they are the most riveting that I’ve ever heard. She is so engaging,  that I lose track of time.




She sends me off… Not before telling me to ignore the snake on the ground and to come back soon.

Oh Mother.

Calling a time out

I never really started the process of finding myself, until I truly listened.

I walk, unburdened and with a presence of mind that is indescribable, as words fail to encompass the peace that envelops me.


Patapsco Valley State Park

Any excursion where I am able to absorb rhe majesty of a waterfall, is a segue into another realm of solace that I didn’t know existed.

Each one is different, every experience has a different frequency.

These waters have a baptismal power that is invigorating.

I suffer from migraines, but they don’t exist here.


At the base of the Falls


Overlook at paradis3

My visit to Hawaii consisted of me smiling for an entire week. I was empowered for the entire visit, being surrounded by water… That is unadulterated power and I was infected.


I was lost, but I didn't care.

Often, I journey alone because of this innate need to detox and be selfish. When I am alone in the confines of solitude, I operate on a higher plane.

Unlocking freedom and elements of my sanity on a incremental basis.

Closing my eyes, breathing deeply I often wonder…


Herring Run flowing into the Back River

Is this a drug?
Am an addict?

But the presence of God says otherwise and I immediately know it to be true.

Killing time with Mother

It was a stupid question, but it came quite naturally, stopping myself in mid sentence.

What would I do to kill two and a half hours? Continuing this ongoing affair with Mother Nature seemed to be a given.

Once I got my bearings, I made a beeline straight to the nearest State Park.

I’ve found that no matter how many times that I think that I’ve traversed every area of a park that I’ve patronized over the years, I find myself happily proven wrong.


I found myself in the embrace of the Patapsco Valley today.

Hearing the river rushing in the valley below, I fought the urge to run towards it.


I walked with a deliberate saunter, letting the world behind me slowly melt away.


It was a steep incline in some places, I stumbled, but I continued on.




As I made my way down to the river. It was as if I was beckoned to sit at the rivers edge.

As if Mother Nature crafted a seat, just with me in mind. I sat on a rock, in the middle of the river, while sun infused me with a warmth that seemed to download a sense of fortitude that I didn’t know that I needed.

I closed my eyes while my mind took baby steps towards making sense of it all.


Before I knew it, the two and a half hours that I needed to kill were breathing their last gasps.

As I make my way back up the valley.

I grouse…


Time is never on my side.

Finding what was buried within.

As I back up my old photo’s to the Cloud.

I was drawn to this set of photographs, it was significant because it was during this walk that I wrote my first piece of poetry.

It was a organic act that unfolded without much fanfare.

As I walked through this area of Gunpowder Falls this past December.

I was accompanied by nothing other than the crunching of the snow beneath my feet and feeling as if I was impervious to the elements that seemed to say…

“You will freeze, you will regret not having those gloves that you forgot at home.”

But, I was looking for something that I eventually found.

Peace of mind, solace.

So, I walked.

Discovering a layer that I didn’t know I possessed.

Not to say that my poetry is any good, but it is the act of creating it, that makes me feel empowered and that is more important that any accolade I could ever receive.

Gunpowder Falls



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