New Host website at World Is Wild

A Small Misconception

Even The Biggest

Manifest Your Dreams

I have always been told, and believed, I could manifest my dreams. I was misled. That is to say I went about making my dreams happen, but only the smallest ones. I acted on the dreams furthest away from my heart, I was afraid of the dreams closest. Coincidentally, the further I drew away from my heart, the more I believed my dreams were simply wisps of smoke.

Today I am going to act on my biggest dream. The clouds are my design.


Morning Musings




Everyday To Do List

To Do List


Every morning I make a paper to do list for special projects. These are my daily goals. They stay next to my morning gear to keep me consistently reminded of the need for consistency. Keeping it simple.

Amuse Your Muse

Aly & River

I never understood my muse. I had always believed my muse was an obnoxious fairy, choosing to inspire me at the most inopportune moments. I would wait by my pen for the heavens to open and white light flow on paper. After years of slowly giving up, at my most exhausted moment, it suddenly occurred to me…

I had to tackle the fickle beast, wrestle it to the ground, and take it for everything. I couldn’t wait for heaven, I had to storm the gates.

This is one half of this place. Creative prompts and ideas. A place to inspire by being inspiring, to find creativity by being creative. The other half is accounts of adventures into the wild. The gods are hiding more often in the trees than in your computer. So, that’s us up there. Vaux Vintage and me, catching sight of our muse in the mountains. Here, let’s go get ’em.

“Amuse A Muse” Josephine Foster
Keep your muse amused
She’s liable to decay
Her flesh will rot away from disuse
Keep your muse amused
Her vestment will fray
Her locks will fall away in profuse
So bring flowers everyday
Sing odes and odes of praise
She dedicates her beauty unto you
It is her duty
Make love to her
She’s your muse
Amuse your muse
Or your ode to your dismay
Will fall in disarray
Make sacrifices on her altar
She is someone’s beloved daughter too
She’s your muse
Amuse your muse
She’s liable to decay
Her flesh will rot away
Someday will lie in coffin
All her beauty long forgotten
And diffused
She’s a muse
Amuse a muse

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

“Thomas Merton wrote, ‘there is always a temptation to diddle around in the contemplative life, making itsy-bitsy statues.’ There is always an enormous temptation in all of life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for itsy-bitsy years on end. It is so self-conscious, so apparently moral, simply to step aside from the gaps where the creeks and winds pour down, saying, I never merited this grace, quite rightly, and then to sulk along the rest of your days on the edge of rage. 
I won’t have it. The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous and bitter, more extravagant and bright. We are making hay when we should be making whoopee; we are raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain, or Lazarus.

Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock-more than a maple- a universe. This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.”

-Annie Dillard