Pausing work life (even for a quick camping trip) feeds the body with wholesome moments like the one I photographed when the sun rose with me. I disconnected, trekked, journaled, ate my fair share of jalapeño potato chips, and liberated my body by living without a routine. I, instead, just existed.
In a related but not related sentiment, Artist Mario Ybarray, Jr. describes the "cult of busy" when creative types convene. Instead of asking How are you?, artistic worth is measured by asking: What are you working on? Asking from the heart a No, seriously, how are you? breaks the routine of busyness, urgency, and ambition. It wasn't until sitting near a creek during sunrise did I see how anchored I've become to the cult of busy.
So I sat creek-side eyeing shadows moving across ripples. Water dripped northbound. Rocks looked slick, pines swayed, and the moment was my own.
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