Three kings stopped a walking man to ask advice about their dreams.
But the man said, "Oh no please, I don't want to hear these things."
"I have dreams of my own although they'll never come to pass...
I just work my life away while all you rich guys sit and laugh."
Standing on a block (while two men sit up top),
The horse is deep in thought, wondering "Where can we walk?"
He's distraught 'cause he knows that there is nowhere to go,
And it does no good to tell them, they'll just say "I told you so."
Needing to get out of the house, I walked down the street to the antique shops that are right around the corner from my house and did some urban sketching.
A Brief Pause at the Edge of Becoming
It seems I am always seeking a place to sit—
not just to rest the body,
but to settle the soul.
Yet even in stillness, Gary Brecka’s words whisper:
“The quickest way to old age
is the aggressive pursuit of comfort.”
So I do not stay long.
I walked until I found a picnic table
beneath a canopy of bare-limbed trees,
branches like open hands waiting for green.
The blue spruces nearby—
stoic, unchanged, whispering that some things endure.
I sketched.
Not perfectly. Not for anyone’s praise.
Just a mark to say: I was here.
Alive in this in-between.
Waiting. Listening.
Not for leaves—
but for something truer than comfort.
Thank you for joining me in this small noticing.
A moment borrowed from the rush.
A table. A tree. A thought.
A gift.
Many people walk past plants either without noticing them or with just a glance. For the Walmajarri people in the Kimberley region of Western Australia, and many other Indigenous groups, plants provide a source of food and medicine. These outlines are of plants that are used by Walmajarri people as either food or medicine. For most people they remain a mystery, hence the outline only.
Sometimes, a good goodbye is also a fresh hello.
As we wrapped up our "Sacred Spaces" paintings, I asked our student teacher to design a one-day project—something playful, earthy, and engaging to ease the class into her care. She brought mud. Literally.
Using mud and simple stencils, students pressed images—flowers, insects, wings—onto the sidewalk behind our school. There's something timeless about making marks with the ground itself. It felt ancient and immediate at the same time.
These prints won’t last long, but maybe that’s the point. A fleeting image, a shared laugh, a new hand guiding the next phase of learning.
Art is about making marks. Not all of them need to be permanent.
There are only a few lovely large pine trees near my home in the Southwest of Western Australia. This little sprig was found on a walk where there was only the one pine tree in amongst the other trees.
I've burned through 6 weeks straight of non-stop drawing. I think it means I'm healing up from a painful relationship I needed to end. Sometimes we attract someone due to a perceived chemistry. Then one day we wake up and realize that chemistry is acid and this isn't actually love. This is a distortion. And I don't need to walk through this pain anymore. I've actually grown enough to recognize that being alone, without pain, is a thousand times better than being with someone who refuses to recognize their behavior. Some people have no idea that words can do much more damage than a weapon. Words can kill. If you can't control your tongue, then don't speak. Make this a rule for your life if you care for someone.
Warm and cool winds mixing and blowing over sand ridges. A memory from living on the edge of a desert in Western Australia. Sometimes, walking the early morning the air is still cool in the shade of the trees, but the moment you step out into the sun, it is already hot.
