El Tren

A painful repetition of exercises.

I've been dreaming about trains often.  I brought this up during my cozy catch-up sessions with KT and Jess at a Lake Union Irish pub called A Terrible Beauty, earlier this evening, seeking for their insight.  I read in "Water for Elephants" that trains are seen as symbols of directions and destinations.  Often when dreamt of, they imply a sense of digression or loss.  I'm perplexed at the idea of dreaming of trains so frequently, that I began to wonder what significance they pose in spite of my never riding a "real" one, ever.  It's likely beyond coincidence for such occurrences to exist at such a high rate.  Google insists that dreaming of trains have a Freudian complex which can be described as painful repetition of daily exercises.  Viz. the work week routine?  I wondered.  There's no special dread piling up behind the depths of my brain, as far as I'm aware, but I haven't really done much inspection lately.

Tell It

On occasion, during some mornings when my head is quite detached from standard consciousness, I hear insights about existence that emanate from somewhat unexpected places.  While the radio was turned on, having only the vaguest of awareness that it was, these words took flight and arrived in my ears:

If you want to tell the story of the world, you must not put your own self at the center.

Jackson C. Frank

, a photo by herb.purganan on Flickr.

I wanted to utilize oil paint but this already satisfied my goal. That goal is simplicity.

Mt. Si

, a photo by herb.purganan on Flickr.

Sarah and I, and our dogs, hiked up the 8 total mile trail. No rain poured upon us, therefore it was very a enjoyable trip.

Light Pillar

, a photo by herb.purganan on Flickr.

I saw a sun pillar around sunset. Here's proof:

Snowshoeing

_HRB5968, a photo by herb.purganan on Flickr.

Did a short snowshoe hike on Keechelus Lake Trail. I read a little of John Green's The Fault In Our Stars while walking, and snapped a few pictures; the above photo is one of them.  The rest can be seen here.

Port Townsend

I visited this little historic victorian town on the Olympic Peninsula a bit off-the-cuff; I had a loaner car and a full tank of free gasoline.  Such a satisfying trip it turned out to be. The town reminded me of a dream I once had, not so long ago (2-3 months) where I watched the ocean from the balcony of a victorian-style lighthouse. In the dream, the water was scintillating. In my actual visit, the weather had been quite dismal, yet the water still shone with surprising brilliance. The exactitude was breathtaking!