Barry and I had the good fortune to spend a few hours at our friend Colin's studio recently, on a gentle, dreary Sunday afternoon that had no particular agenda attached. I'd realized about a month prior that it had been quite some time since I'd done a full shoot just for fun: aside from the odd photo I'd grab here and there, every full-blown assignment I've done lately has been for an Actual Job.

What I found out at this self-assigned shoot was surprising: I was infinitely more relaxed, looking for images instead of trying to keep up with them; I shot *way* less (I probably came home with about 1/4 of the captures that I usually do), and as we discussed during our time together, that the intersection of accident and incident is a very important place to cultivate for when it decides to visit. Funny that this place I found was the place I used to live in, and that it's the place I wound up needing to remember and go looking for -- part of me didn't even realize that I'd wandered away.

Colin is an amazing artist, and it was fulfilling in ways I can't describe to be in the presence of someone who is living, eating and breathing their calling. To wake up every day surrounded by, and immersed in, an ongoing, shape-shifting body of work is a place I long for, a place I hope I can align myself with someday.

As I read once, moving towards your Higher Self is kind of like being in-between vehicles: you've left your old car behind, a burning and explosive blaze far behind you, and you have yet to reach your new one. Discouraging, painful and tedious as it may be, the only important thing is that you keep walking toward it, not giving up, not turning back, and not losing hope.

A toast to that walk, be it a skip or a trudge, as 2017 knocks and beckons.