Posts filed under personal
Darleen's 32nd Birthday
I painted this dragonfly on my Buick on October 3rd, 2019 as a tribute to my friend Darleen that passed away on Oct 3, 2008. Today, Nov 22, 2019, would have been her 32nd birthday.
I only have a few rituals on this day. One of them is to text or call her mom. Her mother imagines what her life would be… would she be married? Have kids? Have a career? Live near Chicago or over seas?
Since her passing I have formed many of my closest friendships, graduated film school, met Rebekah, got married, moved across the country and then back again, have made things, wasted days, and lived glorious ones too.
I miss her. Darleen was a force of laughter, lewd jokes and beauty. She was loud and funny and crass. All we can do in life is walk the path that unfolds before us. When she got cancer and had to walk that path, she did it with strength and anger and vitality. I wish more of the good friends I made in 2009 and onward could know her.
Losing a friend when I was 19 changed my approach to life. I opened up to experience. I’ve done things I would have never done. For example, I was micro-dosing on mushrooms in the image above (taken by Jordan Bellamy). I’ve said yes to new ideas about spirituality. I’ve said yes to new experiences I would have been more critical of when I was younger. I’ve been a mix of curious and grateful when I’m in nuanced situations.
In these situations I often think, “I’ve already lived x amount of years more than Darleen... my life is already a gift beyond what many get.”
My generation is a bit obsessed with sharing our experiences on social media and always trying to find value outside of ourselves. I’ve been guilty of that myself, assuredly. Now our work is to be in everyday experiences and highlight and elevate them from the inside out, I think. And this too, this basic appreciation, I began to learn by having a friend die when she was 20.
Today I walked on a bed of fallen leaves outside my front door and let gratitude be my focus as I heard the leaves crunch under my steps. What a truly wild and humbling experience.
I can’t give you a report on all that I’ve gained by expanding my experiences, but I do believe I’m closer to love and “The Source” (or God or Jesus or w/e words you use) than ever before in my life. Obviously, Rebekah and my friends would be the ones to to validate that statement, but it’s how I feel.
I hope you say yes to some new experiences. Even if they are the big ones (that motorcycle trip with your sibling or trip to Africa with your Dad or riding in Beyoncé’s limo or _____ ____ ___ ______). But more so, I hope you are present to the experiences available to you every day.
Much love. Thanks for reading. Your attention is a gift.
-Orion.
Gregory Alan Isakov at The Ryman • January 10th, 2019
My first time in the balcony at the Ryman. Milk Carton Kids opened; telling jokes that made the pew-seated people laugh. I laughed too. I went to the bathroom and asked the usher if I could get back in without my ticket. The signs said “Ticket needed for re-entry”. The usher smiled and waved me through as if to say, “Of course sweetie. Don’t waste your time following silly rules.” I came back in and waited for their song to finish before returning to my seat. I stood with most of the balcony for a standing ovation—not because I loved them, but because I imagined what a feeling it would be to get a standing ovation at The Ryman.
Then a 30-minute intermission. Rebekah spotted our former neighbor Daniel and we hugged in the aisle. Big, real hugs. He’s a friend I’ve laughed, wrestled, and sobbed with. We met his lady friend of a month and I wondered how long their lives would run parallel. Then I introduced Rebekah to Paul as he passed by. We first met in 2015 on the sun-covered fields of Shelby Park playing ultimate frisbee. He was recovering from chemo then. He was one of the best players, but could only run in short spurts. The rounds had rung his body dry. I was drawn to the energy he had to show up, fight, and be all-in with what he had; that same kind of tenacity Darleen had, too. Paul’s cancer has come back. He’s bald and fighting again. And still showing up. Rebekah and I sat back down.
As Isakov stood backlight beneath the blue-purple spotlight; his circle-brim hat left his face in complete darkness. Shining. Humble. Mysterious. All at the same time. His band joined mid-song; he later called them his best friends. The cone-shaped spotlights illuminated the swirling smoke and made me want to snap an iPhone photo but I made a commitment to stay in the moment. No photos for me during the show. And that’s when I began writing this prose piece in my head.
The backdrop was tall grass under a starry night sky. In the center of the backdrop was a huge satellite dish. It reminded me of Gregory’s life. He works a farm in Colorado most the year; growing, harvesting and selling. But then this odd bus-and-plane music tour in the winter. A satellite tower in the middle of a field; communicating with technology orbiting Mother Earth. I think many of us gathered for his music because we can relate to this tension of life and work in the modern world. There were two globes filled with light on the stage—the kind I would spin in elementary school. I wished there were three of them. I liked the multiple worldview theme, but duality is problematic. Religion or no religion. Republican or Democrat. Male or Female. Dark or light. There is always a third way.
A few folks across the balcony had their flash on while taking a photo and quickly lowered their phones in embarrassment. Two men and one woman in front of me recorded videos of 6 or 7 of the songs. They were in their 60’s (Not millennials— back-off with your assumptions, boomers). At first I thought, “Really? You’re filming this on your phone? You’re here. Be here.” I was annoyed that they couldn’t be present how I wanted them to be. But then I thought of Paul (who don’t worry, was not filming on his phone) and the fragility of life. I thought of moments being meaningful because we share them with others. I imagined the older man uploading the video to Facebook or showing his son or daughter. I embraced their way-of-being in the world, even though I judged it to be more fragmented.
They played “Liars”, a favorite of mine. The multi-colored lights strobed as the music swelled. I felt the drum vibrations bounce off my chest. I stopped thinking about writing and focused on my breath. I felt alive. I was alive. I am alive.
It’s not about resisting taking smartphone photos. It’s about sharing. We all want to share. I talked to myself in my head 30 minutes of the set because I had the idea to write about it; all sparked because I knew I wasn’t going to have a photo-of-my-own on my phone to share. Words are not my thing. I like visuals. I like to touch. I do not reflect often with language. But damn, talk about not being present. I was wandering in my mind, holding moments, concepts and anecdotes up to the light. Re-ordering them. Because the night was happening and I wanted to be a part of sharing it. I wanted others to know how the smoke curled in magic circles somehow. I wanted people to see the banjo and wonder if it was a third globe: like time viewed from the 4th dimension (shout out to True Detective Season 1). I wanted people to know that Gregory was the only one wearing a hat and that acoustic-front-of-the-stage songs at the Ryman do not get old. I never intended to write about following rules, The Milk Carton set, hugging Daniel, or talking to Paul. But these things passed through me too. If the 17 year-old Orion was writing this, he’d end with a packaged message tied to some-kind-of bigger purpose; an answer for what this writing was all about. But I’m different now and trust voices that do not have themselves figured out.
It’s 1:24am and I’m tapping these last words on my light-blaring laptop while Rebekah sleeps beside me. I can hear Isakov’s repeating lyrics from “Caves” in my head.
“Put out the smoke in your mind
Let’s put all these words away
Let’s put all these words away
Let’s put all these words away”.
Abe and Isaac 1 year video
Megan and Nate Kantor (Cedar and Pines) started this photo shoot with a breathing exercise. I think they always do that; but it's just one of the many reasons this was a special time in the mountains. Abe and Isaac hired me to come shoot some documentary style video content for their 1 year anniversary; my favorite type of work. This is the mini-montage from their photo shoot with Megan and Nate. Abe and Isaac read each other letters around the fire towards the end. Isaac later recorded the audio from his and sent it my way so I could use it in the video. Check out the BTS shots from the day below (shot by Megan and Nate).
Abe and Isaac's photography company:
thefortco.com
Personal websites:
isaacbowen.com
abelopez.com
Vimeo Thumbnail photo by:
cedarandpines.com
Burning Man 2017 • Reflections of a first time burner
A gift from Phillip: a man who made portraits of folks for an hour at his camp "Feed the Artists"
I attended my first "burn" this year. I've wanted to go since learning about it from doc filmmaker Roko Belic in 2009. He told me, "Orion. You must go. There is nothing like it. I've gone sober all 10 years; the magic there is the freedom. You must go; it may not last forever."
What is it? Hard to say. You'll hear people call it a drug-filled week in desert... others a "music festival". Those are the two main simplifications I've heard; both only scratch the surface IMO. There is nothing else like it. The city that springs up in the desert is created by the participants. And not for monetary profit or gain. It's art and expression as gifts. Burning Man coordinates building "The Man" and "The Temple", lays out the streets/grid for camping, provides porto-potties, has a lost and found, medical tents, post office, a place to buy ice and coffee (the only commerce at Burning Man)... they create a strong skeleton: but the heart and blood and flesh of the festival is participant created.
There is nothing else like it.
Getting There: I had a "guide": my friend Geoff who has been 7 times. I blocked this time off more than a year ago; but he's the person that made it actually happen. I flew into L.A. with a backpack: he coordinated the ride up and schedule. He also equipped me with goggles (one set for daylight, the other for night), a copper cup with a carabiner (even when people are giving free coffee/alcohol you have to have your own cup), all the little details you need to know but don't know, some leather festive attire, and HE GIFTED ME MY TICKET. He told me his brother Dave did the same his first year; and now I have to pass that on.
It's important to note here that Burning Man has endless opportunities as an individual; but who you go with/camp with will have a huge impact on your experience. There's events, lectures, readings, games, lounges, dance floors, hundreds of art sculptures etc. You can fill your time and make new friends - but the friends you wander with are clutch. Roko told me that. So I'd say go with dear friends and good souls. Geoff and his girlfriend Barbara and my friend Jedidiah and the Camp Boring crew were my anchors. Moving on.
Here are the 10 principles of Burning Man (officially stated for the first time in 2004):
- Radical Inclusion
- Gifting
- Decommodification
- Radical Self-Reliance
- Radical Self-Expression
- Communal Effort
- Civic Responsibility
- Leaving No Trace
- Participation
- Immediacy
Burning Man is not for everyone, but it's definitely for me.
The desert is hot (then cold), dusty, and storm-ridden. A 5 minute bike-ride (you bike everywhere) leaves your legs plastered with "The Playa": the smooth powdered chalk-like sand that dries out your skin. The dust-storms are little reminders that we're specks on the pale blue dot. I also kind of enjoy being dirty and fully immersed in the elements. The sun rising and setting over the ridge lines with the purple/pink blanketed skies are pure majesty. I watched the last 5 sunrises of Burning Man (got hooked after seeing the first one). The desert has always been a wilderness space to cleanse and renew.
I've always loved fire. From burning holes in carpet at age 8 to juggling coals around a campfire (present day): I love fire. Fire is in the DNA (and name) of Burning Man. Some of my favorite memories are tied to fire: in all it's glory and fury and light and pain. And on Saturday night (Burning the Man) and Sunday night (Temple Burn) I saw the biggest man-made fires of my life. Awe. Sadly this year someone ran into the fire and ended their life. Because of the magnitude of the fire-circle, I didn't actually know about it until the next day, but you could feel the weight of it as we watched the Temple burn (with a chain-link fence around it) the night after.
Decommodification: I'm still understanding the layers of this one, but Burning Man frees itself from any corporate sponsors or advertising. It's done to preserve the gifting economy. I used my phone 2-3 minutes a day (to set alarms); so I was truly ad free for the week. One of my favorite things of Burning Man. I enjoyed covering up my bike logo and not being inundated with brands. This value seems to be fading a bit as it grow (people not covering up RV logos, etc), but if you go - try to decommodify your person and your camp as much as possible. It's one of the things that makes the multi-thousand person event unique.
Participation: Art everywhere. I love art, but especially "everyday art" or "art-of-the-people". Things that aren't often in a museum but are honest-poetry. Burning Man is full of art. Sculptures set up in the desert. Some that burn. Things to climb and touch and interact with. Some of it takes weeks to construct and possibly years to design/create. And it's all more powerful because it's participants (anyone attending) that make it. Jed and I talked our first night dancing in the desert about how people having an honest dialogue with God are assuredly making art. I Imagine everyone that attends the event is overwhelmed with all the participant art at some point. Maybe during the day while exploring the playa or at night watching all the fire and lights circle and swarm around you.
The photos below are of my time volunteering for 3 hours at a "Burn Garden" on the final day of Burning Man. The Department of Public Works (DPW) lets folks drop off scrap wood from camps and/or creations and saves the usable stuff for building materials for next year. This is one of the many places where I experienced the Communal Effort first hand; the magic of many hands and bodies making Black Rock City work. It was hot. Approaching the large burns to toss in wood was extra hot. But I loved it. People brought us beer, Will took photos of couples by the giant horse fire-bin, and some kitchen somewhere made food for the volunteers. I'd recommend volunteering alongside the DPW a few hours if/when you make it to Burning Man.
The other place I experienced the communal effort is tied to the intense Leave No Trace value. It's one of the requirements the BLM set on the event from the get-go; but it's incredible how it still happens. Picking up MOOP (Matter Out Of Place) is a full-on effort at every single camp when packing out. Combing the ground for ANY matter out of place. Little pieces of straw, fingernail clippings, wood shavings... anything. Any other human gathering of 50K+ leaves an immense amount of trash. Immense. But because the participants all pitch-in, the culture expects it, and it's a reasonable request: it gets done. The contrast between the satellite images of Burning Man during the event and of the desert weeks after are truly remarkable. I confess that I messed up royally on this one. Heading in to Burning Man I heard that you could leave your bike on the playa and it would be donated via "Burners Without Borders". I intuited that this was not the case by around Thursday, but sadly I was indeed one of the thousands of people who left their bike. I made a mistake on that one that I have to own up to - and will change for future trips onto La Playa. But thought it would be worth it to be up front that I made some mistakes on my first burn: that one being the worst.
I talked a lot to long-time burners as much as I could. "How do you feel about it as it has grown?". I was talking with folks who continue to come, but I was still surprised by their optimism. I've read things about how "plug-and-play" camps that cost thousands to camp at are changing the culture. How silicon valley and/or sparkle pony ravers have changed things. Two interactions most influenced my current outlook. The first was the perspective of a new friend named Christian at Camp Boring (he just celebrated his 20th consecutive burn). He said that yes, maybe there's a small haze of bullshit that exists at Burning Man now, but the core that is "Burning Man" is is alive and well. He said that even 20 years ago people were complaining about how it had changed/sold out/etc. That has always been there. The second interaction I will never forget. Ranger Danger came to the Burn Garden to burn a chair he'd used for 16 years at BM. I asked him how long he'd been coming, "30 years... and you know what", as he leaned a little closer, "things are just getting started!".
I could say more, but it truly is something meant to be experienced. The "experiencing" and immediacy are where the transformative and impact-magic reside. If you are interested in going, I'd try to make it in your lifetime (sooner than later).
Support me running the Comrades Marathon
On my birthday (Lord willing) I'll be running 54 miles in South Africa in the Comrades Marathon. The reason I'm putting my body through the pain/struggle is to help children around the world get access to basic essentials like clean water, education, and hygiene. I'm asking friends and family members to sponsor a child through World Vision. It's $39 a month. It's a big commitment, but it has an even bigger impact in a child's life and their community.
Shoot me a text or give me a ring at (630)400-3524 if you are interested in sponsoring a child and/or want to know more. I'm happy to answer any questions and share more about why I'm doing what I'm doing. You can also help by sharing/re-tweeting stuff I post on Twitter/Facebook/Instagram at @orionpahl.
Here is a link with more info about Child Sponsorship through World Vision.
Much love. Much much love. Your support means the world.
Orion...
A pixelated picture of me running Comrades last year. This year (2017) is an UPHILL YEAR. We start on the coast and work our way up to the mountains.
I produced this video in 2014 for Team World Vision. The time spent talking to Michael Chitwood, seeing the dedication/sacrifice of World Vision Kenya employees, and seeing the impact in Maureen's life changed me forever. The work World Vision is up to around the world is truly transformational. I'm humbled to be a small part of that work. I encourage you to be a part of it too.
"Wine in the Cellar" by Rebekah Pahl
Rebekah's single "Wine in the Cellar" is streaming on Music and available in the iTunes store!
The full EP will be out November 4th, until then, enjoy this tune!
Photo by Collin Fatke
Celebrating 100 Years of the National Park Service
A few things National Parks have taught me about life.
Grand Canyon National Park: Break the rules? Break the rules! - I remember my mom's anxiety as my brother and I ran around the rim. I don't recall the year. Maybe 1997? Ironically, preserved parks and spaces have always been a place where I've pushed the boundaries of human behavior w/ the-land. The tension of letting things be and climbing to-the-top of an "off-limits" canyon rock. I learned yesterday that Title I schools (at-risk, low income schools) have a program where 4th graders and their families get a free annual pass to the National Parks. I hope those kids get out, off the trail. Steal a pine-cone and take it home. Climb the fence and touch the General Grant tree... if they don't connect with the wild inside themselves, I don't know if they'll get to a place where they care deeply about preserving that same-wild-thing in our world. Not sure where this photo was taken in the park.
Zion National Park: Relationships 101 - This is where Rebekah and I honey-mooned in Spring, 2013. I remember seeing the red canyons and the huge chasm the Virgin River had carved through the heart of Zion... I could see how building a life with another human mirrored our relationship w/ the earth. Time makes it's mark. It's dynamic. It's what makes us beautiful. We get life from the earth, but we also must give it our life-blood. Our role with Mamma Earth is not dominion; it's relationship. Photo taken on the hike up to Observation Point.
Joshua Tree National Park: The desert is our sanctuary - It's Rebekah's soul landscape. It's the space we sought to be still and make plans for the future. It's where we went to give movement to dreams. This photo has three light sources. Stars, fire, and headlights. It was taken at the Hidden Valley campground.
Alcatraz Island: Storytelling preserves life. You walk around with a headset and listen to incredible podcast-storytelling: sounds brining up new flavor for the other senses. I also went with friends, which made it a whole lot more fun. And there's a boat ride. And it's eery. But this place is an example of how storytelling can keep a thing (culture, story, belief) alive for a long time... This photo was taken inside the main prison cells.
Mount Rushmore: Most people are scared of engaging the out-of-the-norm. My brother Caleb recited the Gettysburg address at one of the lookouts. Everyone kept walking by; no one stopped to listen, engage, or inquire. People are so bound to social norms and afraid to interact... fearing you might ask for money or be weird or ______. I had a small small sentiment of what it's like to be homeless and not acknowledged by other living-breathing humans. Also, my bro has an impeccable memory.
Yosemite National Park: Life Ethic - The first time I saw Yosemite I was doing full-time activism for Invisible Children: living out of a van. I've since seen a few documentaries on Alex Honnold and other rock climbing dirt-bags. Our purposes were so far apart, but married together at the same time. We have one life and it's beautiful when people pursue it with zeal and intensity and purity. That was me. 19. Wild and passion-filled. Zealous and determined. You grow. You learn other peoples point-of-views... but there's still that whisper and call to be black-and-white again. It's not good or bad. It just is. Photo taken near the entrance when you first set eyes on Half-dome.
Bryce Canyon National Park: Human Friendship - We asked someone to take our picture after running around Bryce playing tag. They remarked, "you can't really see the background". We sarcastically said, "It's about us". We had been road tripping from Nashville, TN to L.A. and had been sleeping on abandon newspaper roof-tops, drive-in grass and swanky Telluride condos. Maybe we meant it a little (insert your sarcastic + critical millennial comment here), but I think we also meant, "These cave-like spires bring us life and we've brought our youthful blood-filled bodies to this place; certainly giving it life too". I don't know. It just seems human connection is supreme, and preserving the natural world is embedded into that desire. Photo taken of another photo (sorry). It's an awesome photo-book Cameron compiled that chronicled the trip.
I have other memories from Arches, Sequoia and Kings Canyon, Point Reyes Nat'l Seashore, Redwood Nat'l Park, the Indiana Dunes, and Mammoth Caves (to name the ones at the top of my head). So many. I hope you get to experience a new National Park for the first time this year. Let me know what you learn. Really. I'd love that.
p.s. If you're into Nat'l Parks, follow the writings/travels of my friend Tyler Dunning. For real. You won't regret it!
Desert Inspired Album Kickstarter
Rebekah Pahl (mi esposa) is in the midst of a Kickstarter campaign to record her first studio EP. She directed the feels for the Kickstarter video and I helped bring her vision to life. If you have 3 minutes to spare, give it a view and consider pitching in a few bucks to help her make some art!
