Swinging in my hammock beneath patches of stars, a cool breeze rushes in from the sea, rolling in a haze of patchy cloud over my head. The stars flit in and out of existence through the swaying palms, unhappy that I won’t come up to play.
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Sunlight streamed through the shops windows, dancing among the inaudible buzz of voices, the squeak of hangers, and the technicolor palette of clothing that filled the room. I ducked into the alley between two coat racks and the staccato click of my shutter joined the white noise all around me.
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When a week starts to pile up on my shoulders and weigh me down, I find it's best to escape into nature to shed the anxiety and recharge. This weekend I escaped south to Bash Bish Falls and Alander Mountain.
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Some days I like to write about mountains, photography, and the rising sun, and other days I like to let you into the other side of what I do, and the creative short stories I write and rarely share.
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I woke up early to chase the dawn. Beneath the pines, the darkness lay deep, but outside the shadow the moon turned the world to silver. The night beckoned, and so I raced through it, my breath panting out in white mist in the frigid cold of the early hours.
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It's hard finding creativity scrolling through Instagram when all you see are photos of people getting drunk, and the brunch someone had that morning, but finding a way to correctly use social media can boost your desire to create.
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Descending into the jungle between the shoulders of two mountain ridgelines, sunshine filtered down through the green of the leaves, making euphoria stutter to life in my chest and making the Reef Bay Trail my favorite on the island.
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Disappearing beneath the surface of the ocean to swim amongst the fish and sea fans is always something surreal, and during my hitchhiking travels on St. John I managed to find some of the best places to snorkel on the island.
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After two class 5 hurricanes balled the islands up and tossed them in a washing machine filled with rocks, nails, and mach 7 winds, the U.S. Virgin Islands are limping back to health.
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When I write a story, I usually start with an idea in mind, a daydream that had been playing over and over in my mind until my fingers can't hold back anymore. I have at least one part of the story planned out, one scene that I'm basing the entire structure off of, and I build from there.
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Honestly, I've always been a basic as heck human being who snapped all of the sunsets on my phone, but once I picked up a camera and starting expanding my work, I found out in trial and error how light actually works.
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If you're a ski bum, college student boring yourself working retail or in food service, or just need some time off, summer is the time for adventure and the time for amazing outdoor jobs.
I needed a break, I needed a place to escape, so when The North East Collective was holding an instameet in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, I knew where I needed to be.
There isn't anything I can teach you about being creative, that comes from inside of you, but there is a tip I can give to help with your writing.
Rushing water has always fascinated me, especially as it tumbles out over a drop, cascading into the air in a roar of excitement. Growing up in New York, I've had a bit of time to check out some of the best locations to see waterfalls in the state.
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I get it, for some people Black Friday is one of the only ways for some people to afford to buy the things they want or need, but the best way to spend your holidays isn't caught up in the crush of consumerism and chaos of shopping centers on your holidays, its getting outside and being with those you love: #optoutside.
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Silence haunts me, but not always in a hollow way. Sometimes it is sweet, the soft touch of two people staring out at the stars together, and sometimes it is as bitter as winter's cold as you wake up, go to school, go to work, go home, and eat dinner all alone. Even in a crowd, when that ever audible buzz of conversation rings in your ear, you feel the silence. It is not just an absence of noise, it is something deeper.
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Sunrise filters through the clouds in dancing, golden motes, touching upon the mountainsides of the Adirondack High Peaks. It slips around the shoulders of mountains, flowing down into the vacant valleys in warm streams. Waking up to catch the sun as it stretches over the horizon, honest and slow, sets your soul on fire, helping you slip out of your tired skin and into one a little less cumbersome.
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A crisp Autumn has begun to roll out the red carpet for New York's winter, making me dream of warmer winter escapes spent on Caribbean shores.
Something draws you to a place, or pushes you towards it. You're there because of something, you are where you are because of the life that you have led.