Being Kind (in War) Changes Everyone

Sometimes there is more.   Decades ago, I accidentally fell into the mysterious cauldron of software development.  The job intrigued me because it was like a giant imaginary puzzle. I quickly learned to abstract complex concepts into simple patterns, using precise wording and box diagrams to convey meaning to developers.  In a profession that demands relentless precision, speed to market and long hours, work became an addictive obsession. It mostly paid the bills. It half satisfied my need to learn new things.  And it represented a stark departure from my imagined career as a history or law professor.  The job also opened a portal to another dimension, allowing me to make the invisible visible without having to pay for an advanced degree.  Work mattered. Paying bills mattered. Being responsible mattered. Until one day, they didn’t.  In the midst of a series of debilitating tragedies, it became clear something was off, some “thing” was missing. Consumed by grief, I quit my job, leaving the adrenaline-filled cauldron behind. Then I waited, for what I knew not.  Not long after, a chance encounter with a groovy 98 yr old WWII Naval combat vet unlocked the missing piece.  He wanted to know if I was waiting on old age or death before beginning real life.  Shazam!  Stunned at the simplicity of the ask and confronted with the obvious archetype of Everyman’s Journey, I gasped and then pivoted.  I returned to work (same project; new role), bought a Class B camper van named Moose, and decided to explore what matters to me. Now,  I use words and photographs to craft stories about the chaotically beautiful and sometimes painful synchronicities of life.  I give witness to the miracle of finding one’s voice in amongst “the patterns of more”.  Today, I create for the sheer joy that creating brings. And that is enough.