June 17, 2023
At the time of this writing I’ve already spent a week in my happy place. Upon arriving, I removed my watch. Here, time has no meaning, yet a gentle routine takes hold.
I wake up when the sun crests the ridge and illuminates my campsite. I perch on a rock in the river, drinking my coffee in the warmth of the morning light.
There’s no agenda for today other than to breathe in the fresh air... or sunbath on the rocky river beach, the stones washed down from the mountain and polished by the silty glacial river... or lay in the hammock beneath fluttering leaves and swaying tails of moss. Perhaps I’ll read a book... or take a nap... or look... or think... or not.
I spend a lot of time on this river, where many Ebbs and Flows have been made... felt. I can’t help but photograph the water while I am here, the flows changing as snowmelt swells the river, the light dancing on the surface here... then there... then here again.
In the evening, I follow the disappearing light up the river, photographing it as the sun dips behind another ridge. The light is gone, that means it’s dinner time.
I eat dinner on the same rock, watching the familiar details of the forest melt into twilight.
After dinner, I prepare and ignite a fire, always with a spark and never a lighter. As twilight sets in, I tend to the fire, watching the bats dart over the river, silhouetted by the forest's gradual fading as they feast on mosquitos.
Soon I’ll be left with only the glow of the fire and the serenade of the river’s song. I close my eyes and get lost in the melodic tones: the near sounds of the water caressing the riverbank, the distant rush of frothy currents upstream, and everything in between.
I haven’t used my voice since I arrived. The sounds of nature are music enough.
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This edition was created for Ebb and Flow holders and 1/1 collectors who supported me by picking up a copy of the physical Ebb and Flow Monograph. It was accompanied by a vial of water and river gravel collected from the river near my campsite.
Rodeyo
