Whittier in the summer

24th St—dreamily looking towards Lyndale

I spent three days away from the city for the first time in a few years this past weekend. Returning yesterday brought the comforts of home and the challenges of home. My trip, which was brief, kept me outdoors the whole time, something I desperately needed, and something that honestly terrifies me at the same time. Being in nature feels natural to me, but it also feels terrifying, and I think that feeling of terror is a natural feeling for how I've learned to encounter the natural world my whole life.

The world has always been there for the taking, but life—in the capacity that I've always encountered it—has felt like something that I should avoid due to the fear of what may come from participating, and while I don't think this is an all too unfamiliar sensation, it is one that I personally am actively trying to change. When describing the sensation of actively participating in life, I tend to quickly realize how alone most of my life has been in many regards, but there is no doubt that that I'm still alive to this day, and loneliness—while terrifying—has not killed me. I think writing about the challenges of life in the capitalistically constructed world we see each day is the simplest way I can reject the denial of life, which the capitalist world demands. Photography is another tool I'm (re)discovering, which is somewhat of a contradiction in itself.

The same image as above, but with more clarity.

The mediated world, whether its cell phones or information and images of any sort, has altered our perceptive capacities as humans. I'm quite critical of the technologically mediated world that we've constructed for ourselves, and I don't fully accept all that it has to offer even though it does provide the comfort of having a safe place to live in a relatively walkable community in the middle of the United States.

However, I find that photography allows me to slow down amidst the mediated world in which imagery of war, climate collapse, and social inequality enters my consciousness much more than I wish it did. I like the way photography can capture a small moment of space and time, altering perception to see the world as it was with the additions of technologies of digital alteration. Not all technology is bad, and all technology is not good, but technology sure as shit is not a neutral functioning aspect of society. Its disseminated by the technological and political powers of capital, but that's for another post. I enjoy balancing on that fine line of contradiction between ways in which I can personally relate to technology by being quite critical of its (ecological) implications, but also appreciative of the human capacity to create such mystical and powerful objects that alter our perception of space and time. That has been my practice now for the last couple of years as I've been personally trying to reshape my habits around daily life.

Walking slowly

With that broad intro covered, I felt the need to have a nice modern, delicious meal at one of my favorite places to eat, Nightingales. I brought my camera along with me and just took a few photos on my way to and from the restaurant to share some things I notice about the community I live in.

I really like trees, the colors of blue, green, and orange.

I feel quite grateful to live in a metropolis that has a strong green game, meaning plenty of trees to meander around and examine closely when needed. I also feel quite nostalgic (or maybe just emotional) when I think about how trees have played such a major role in sustaining life on this planet, historically and ecologically speaking. They are beautiful creatures, and there is so much care in their being-ness that I hope to incorporate into my life and care for other creatures, beings, and things.

I like when life feels like a movie— when a moment that otherwise just happens is now captured "forever"— but that also feels like an action of power that would benefit from reciprocating with contemplation and care.

I have been recently going to the restaurant in this same building, but part of me is always fascinated by all the buildings and businesses that exist in the neighborhood that I've either never been to or consciously perceived before.

I feel grateful to live in a neighborhood that offers flavors and culture from around the world, resulting from a short walk from my home. I'm also trying to learn how to steward the land better by gardening, and learning about our bioregionality. Whether its picking up trash, participating in a community garden, or caring for the land in whatever way that feels right, I know that this land in this neighborhood helps sustain my life, and I hope to reciprocate that sustenance in ways that feel more regenerative for future generations and less extractive in general.

There is simple beauty in the summer that exists unlike any other time of the year. However, there is also construction, a lot of construction. As someone who has a background in civil engineering, I'm sorry, but also, it is mostly the car's fault. If we lived in a community that was less car intensive, we wouldn't need to spend so much time and money maintaining our roads that get destroyed by the huge, monstrous machines, which also just happen make the city much louder than it actually is. However, that is also another topic for another time!

Just construction shit laying around everywhere

Just more construction shit—the street looks so wide!

Lyndale Avenue will be going under construction in a couple of years after years of advocacy, activism, betrayal, and banality. The process in which we alter and sustain our transportation networks is infinitely complex and infuriating. It provides us the possibility to reshape the world we live in to account for the inequalities and destruction that we've created through the decisions made in the last couple of hundred years, but that is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how we can reshape our communities.

The sun shines brightly. The wide road separates, waiting for a new form more friendly to all.

Taking these pictures helps to slow down while walking. After not owning a car for several years now, I've developed the ability to walk reallllllllly fast—an unsustainable pace of walking fueled by capitalism. I know that the world is scary these days because that is how it is often times designed to make us feel, especially for those who are prone towards the anxious side of the perceiving spectrum. However, I'm practicing slowing down and not worrying as much because that worry has been paralyzing me my whole damn life. I don't want to feel scared to venture out into the world, but I also don't know how else to be in the world sometimes than to be scared of what comes next. Walking slowly helps. I can appreciate what is there rather than what is to come. I can notice things that make me feel something, good or bad. I can say "fuck you" to the world that I do not accept—the capitalistic world that demands my productivity. That does not mean I can escape this world, however, it means that I must participate in it more fully, and that is something I look forward to doing.