Early March
Feeling overwhelmed by the sense of a deep relationship ending with my partner I drive north to visit my non-bio Father seeking comfort. Exhausted, confused, and emotional, Wolf and I sat and talked, laughed a little, and read the Yi Jing. I rested in his company, compassion, and love.
Early March
I had lost my last grandparent a few months before, and missed my opportunity to get one last photo of him. I am grateful that Wolf allowed me to capture these photos. Though we talk and text regularly, I haven’t seen him since.
Early March
On the drive back along to shores of Sebago Lake, I stop and enjoy a wonderful sunset and breath the cold air deep into my lungs.
Mid March
With news of COVID-19 spreading to other countries and tensions in my relationship taking a large emotional toll, I need some time in the woods. The spring snows are on the way, so I head into the White Mountains for my regular winter visits with Amy and Brian in their yurt.
Mid March
We spend a few days enjoying each other’s company and they listened and supported me while processing events unfolding in my life and the world. They are dear friends, and have created a special and sacred home in the woods. It is always healing in the ways that are needed, from the soothing sounds of the stream nearby, the owls hooting at night, the wind moving through the treetops, soft snow falling on dry leaves, the beautiful whips that live in the warm fire, to the chickadee's chirping good morning to you. I am grateful for all of this that Amy and Brian share with me.
Mid-End March
The relationship ended.
Every day felt like a year.
Quarantine
Stay home, stay safe.
Moments of panic, exhaustion
disbelief, and despair filled each hour.
The absence of their presence
was deafening
in it’s silence.
End March
My partner found a temporary place to live, while we worked out what the next living situation would be. With her went the cats, and my only regular connection to living creatures beside my plants. Most of her belonging stay in the apartment with me, which add to a surreal feeling to the time. The whole world came to a grinding stop.
End March
Every decision seemed to have potentially life threatening consequences.
With the extreme emotional and psychological stress manifesting itself physically, one decision was easy. Switch back to tea. Luckily I had a considerable stash of tea from @dobrateame to see me through for a month.
The scent of jasmine filled my apartment once again.
End March
The days continue on
Shadows of the past
Impressions of what
Could of been
And an unknown future
Sway
In the peripheral
End March
I don’t the house, with very few exceptions. This snow storm being one of them.
Even though the streets of Portland are desolately quiet, there is an abundance of tension in the air.
Storms tend to bring a sense of calm and relief. Though my anxiety of leaving the apartment is strong, I make myself sit and enjoy the quiet as long as I can.
April
Anxiety level 11.
What is the future going to bring?
With no strong leadership from the country, states and industries are left to figure out how to survive the pandemic on their own. My industry shut down, and along with it many of my friends are unemployed.
Global and national death tolls
and unemployment skyrocket
and still no leadership.
Mass-graves in NYC.
Everything seems out of control.
Time to reshape the world.
Let’s start with this corner.
April
Isolation continues to bear down on me.
I have found myself living on my own for the first time in 10 years.
Single, No work, and rent just double.
F-Me.
Then
The light
stretches in
April
The cold
Winter sunsets
Give way
And Warm
with the approach of Spring
Yet the days still feel cold
And quiet with tension
Mid-April
I finally leave the apartment to see a sunset outside for the first time in almost a month. People still huddling together, not a mask to be seen.
Drinking, and laughing.
Enjoy your false sense of security.
I keep my distance, and wish I could release my tension and just enjoy the moment.
Nope.
Time to walk home and get away from people.
This sucks.
Understatement.
Mid-April
Last impressions
Of a relationship
A friendship
That we had such future plans for
The time has come
For objects to move apart
To make space for ourselves
To heal
To create stability
A best friend and lover
lost
In the void
are ghosts and shadows
Of what I hoped for
And a deep sense
Of this is all
Wrong
Mid-April
My only distant contact with people was to surf and get groceries.
The Gooch’s Beach was terrifying. With all the beach closings, surfing became more rare, the breaks are more competitive and the sidewalks more crowded. All the calm and relief gained out in the water is wiped away with no one wearing masks, or making an effort to social distance. Driving home I decide to not surf there for a while. The next day the beach was closed.
Mid-April
It is comforting beyond words to see my oldest friend Kyle during this time. We have some good surf sessions when we can, but the beaches are getting shut down. We goto Biddeford to try to catch some waves, but it was scrappy. If we hadn’t gotten really good waves the day before, we would have hopped in. This is the face of contemplation of going back home to a warm bed.
Mid-April
After having the majority of furniture and kitchen supplies being moved into my Ex’s new dwelling, the apartment is empty. I commission a standing butchers block table by @threesonscarpentry , and put a call out to friends to help me find chairs and kitchen supplies. All stores have been shut down, so purchasing most of what I need isn’t possible, or even affordable. @ellieteame happened to have a stool that that would work perfectly for the new block.
@dobrateame is one of my first stops for curbside pickup after Portland shut down, and @ellieteame is one of the first of few in-person interactions outside of surfing.
Other friends come to support me with other kitchen supplies and plants to fill my empty apartment.
I am grateful to @ellieteame , and all those who were able to help me source what I need to be able to cook and eat while shut-in.
Mid-April
The days are slowly warming, and settling into the sense of what is our bizarre new norm.
All the empty space in the town, quiet streets, and empty corners in my now silent apartment allow for my reconstruction.
In the chaos of change, and the sudden stop I discovered that I couldn’t find myself.
Who am I in this void?
Who do I want to be?
Who do I not want to be?
How do I orient myself to these days?
What really matters?
Mid-April
In that silence
I found the space
And emotional availability
To make music
The idea of creation
Was too exhausting
Outside of my daily
Photograph
Until
Now
End April
The rain comes in
And fills the silence
With the gentile sounds of droplets
Patting the rooftop
It's been a month and a half since this all began.
It might as well be a lifetime.
End April
I lean into bringing more living things into my apartment. If I can't be close to people, and a pet being unlikely, plants become my close contact. Friends give me cuttings to propagate, and plants to foster. This 25 year old Jade was my first plant, and it finally has some friends in the house. It feels good to watch them thrive when so many in the world can't.
Early May
Feeling unable to relax outside in Portland, I head north to find space to breath.
Arriving at the lake to open up the camp, I discover that the ice has yet to retreat. It is cold, windy, and still all at the same time. The stillness is very different than that of Portland. It feels right here.
Early May
The ice receded enough for me to paddle out to a nearby island at my families camp. For many years the island has been inhabited by Bald Eagles, raising their young in the summer.
May
I come across these skulls while poking around the island looking for feathers. Small but very interesting in forms.
Of all the photos I capture, this one feels transcendent to me.
Mid-May
Life is returning to the world
Bird songs start the mornings
The warm sun
Awakens the trees
And they start to flower
I soak it in
And try to join them
Late May
The cherry blossoms are back, and I venture out to enjoy this yearly display of beauty. The West End is filled with pink flowers, who's petals swirl around in the wind on the brick sidewalks.
It's a lovely dance.
Late May
This is one of my most favorite times of the year.
Late May
Bathe in nature.
It heals us
More than you know.
Late May
The days are warming up at the camp, and the water recedes. It's almost like nothing had happened.
Late May
My families camp has been a long time escape for me. Over the last 6 years I could go there to heal from breakups, daily stresses, the deaths of both of my remaining grandparents, and my twin brother.
The camp was inherited by my family last year, and is in need of some structural work. I was luck enough to convince my family to employ @threesonscarpentry to make this happen. The timing was good, as his major job of the year has postponed due to COVID regulations.
I am very grateful for the time to spend with Nick, as it was the longest time I’ve spent with anyone in almost 3 months.
Every morning I wake up and he is making breakfast... usually bacon, eggs, and coffee. Classic camp breakfast. The bacon smoke also added some nice atmosphere to the image...
Late May / Early June
We spend nearly 400hrs in 3 weeks working on the camp. The labor is a timely solution to dissolving the stress and pent up energy. Evenings tended to involve some sort of adventure with the sailboat, filling dinners, whiskey, and gut laughs. It’s a luxury for both of us.
Mid way into the project protests around the nation are organized in response to George Floyd's murder, police brutality, and systemic racism. Reality came crashing in with tears, fire, and rage.
Black Lives Matter.
Defund the Police.
Mid June
With the project wrapping up, and tensions increasing again, I turn back to nature for calm.
Mid June
"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."
June
I head south, back to one of the pandemic hotspots in Maine to remain in isolation.
Peaceful protests in downtown turn agitated and the police show up on the scene in riot gear. My friends and community are risking their lives in a pandemic to fight for equality.
The sense of surrealism sets back in.
Tens of thousands dead from COVID, police brutality raging, and a system that only cares about supporting the wealthy. The sleeping awake are conned, believing that the President cares about them, and is on a mission from God to make our country "great again." He fans the flames of poverty, racism, death, hopelessness, and ignorant self-indulgence.
This is America.
END OF SERIES