The Narrative Image

My friends who hunt with bows and arrows sometimes speak almost in poetic terms about the contest of wits between their ‘game’ and them. Unfortunately, a time honored tradition among hunters states that, “What happens in Elk Camp stays in Elk Camp” (unless Cousin Joe starts drinking too much and starts blabbing), so I’m a little sketchy on all the details. It is hard to imagine that bringing human weapons technology (state of the art carbon fiber compound bows, GPS positioning devices, two-way radios, house-size 4-wheel drive pickups and generous aliquots of ‘synthetic?’ elk urine) to bear on grazing herbivores can be considered a fair contest. However, once, while in my canoe, I surprised a herd of elk coming to get water at the side of a lake and I’m pretty sure I caught the members of that highly organized gang “talking” to each other. The elk sentries, who hadn’t expected a threat to appear from the water, bugled a short series of commands in an efficient battle language, and sud...

Note: I’ve mentioned this before, but a really great resource for Portland residents who like to hike is Portland Hikers.org: Portland Oregon’s Hiking Network http://www.portlandhikers.org/ The following images are derived from following the Warrior Rock/Point Lighthouse hike as described here: http://www.portlandhikersfieldguide.org/wiki/Warrior_Point_Hike Even though I was once an art major, I couldn’t think of any more names to describe the colors of mucus that I was able to blow out of my nose. After a week, I was convinced much of it was brain matter. I couldn’t think anymore, most of my parts hurt, and the coughing was starting to aggravate my ribs. When the weekend arrived, all I wanted to achieve was the oblivion of sleep. But at that unexpected moment in the dark hours before dawn, as I eyed the threshold to unconsciousness... some electric stimulus - a message passed along an ethereal network - the inspiration from a muse, invited me to wander. The drive to Sauvie Island w...

If ev'ry tongue was still the noise would still continue The rocks and stones themselves would start to sing: Tim Rice / Andrew Lloyd Webber These are a few of the pages of our genealogy. Some of the pages are sterile and blank with almost no writing. Some of the pages that had interesting stories are long lost or ruined. But even now, there are still some pages – almost miraculous fragments – that preserve remarkable portraits of our ancestors and relatives. The story is not always straight-forward. There are unexpected twists in the plot. If there is an over-riding theme in our genealogy it might be that life as a whole appears resilient, creative and enduring, but that life experienced more individually, say as an individual (or even a particular species) is finite and spans no more than a chapter or two – no exceptions. We still don’t really have any solid evidence that there is any other life anywhere else in the universe. For all we know, this is the only world where matter...