I take my phone and head out for a walk around the lake with the pup.

The air is cool. The wind is high. The sun is radiant.

The pup runs back and forth on the trail. He follows his nose into the woods here, up a hill there. Every so often, he comes to check on me. Every so often, he makes his way to the water for a long cool drink.

I see red, orange, yellow, green, brown. I hear a plop-plop-plop as turtles flop from their perch – tree roots that extend out into the water – into the lake. I smell autumn (I never know how to describe the smell of autumn, but the woods in autumn have their own particular smell). I taste the bitter-sweet flavor of vinegar-honey-water (my occasional breakfast drink) on my tongue. I feel the wild liveliness inspired by the chill and the trees as well as the playful curiosity that my camera inspires.

While I mean to walk around the lake, I find myself mesmerized by the leaves.

I sit or stand in front of first one tree, then another, then another. Watching, with camera and eye, the brisk lively dance of the leaves, the pause between each movement an adagio. Watching, with camera and eye, the play of the light as it sparkles and shimmers through the trees.

It is almost like nature is having one last glorious hurrah before the onset of winter.

As I sit, watching the leaves blow to and fro, I find myself wondering if the purpose of photography, of art, of any practice, is this: to slow us down enough to to see something, to really see something, like we are seeing it for the very first time; and to remind us that life is a collection of moments, and what seems like one small moment can be a glorious and exquisite gift.

I touch my cheek, my lip, the inside of my wrist, and I marvel at the softness.

This houses me. This is mine.

Atlas is so happy here. Weimaraners were bred for hunting, so I imagine that for him, it’s like his essential nature gets to really come out and play. Finally. All his life, most of his walks have been on-leash. Now, the balance has shifted. He is a happy explorer and happy hunter and there are so many wild smells for him to smell. I could watch him all day.

Atlas does not, however, love campfires. This past weekend, we had a campfire, with s’mores and ghost stories. Where was Atlas, you might ask? In the car. He spent so much time hiding behind the picnic table that I finally opened the car door and let him in. We’ve been camping before, so I am not entirely sure what changed, but I am guessing it’s the smoke. I’ve had a few kitchen fiascos since our last camping expedition. Whenever Atlas caught a whiff of smoke, he would vanish upstairs and remain there until the smoke was long-gone.

Every time I leave Atlas with my mother, I come back to find that she has made him one happy happy dog while I was away. One time, she made him a pancake. Another time, it was a sausage. Another time, it was a pork chop. If it weren’t for the fact that I have fed him regularly for ten years – I am a proven food source – I think he might trade me in for this new model.

Atlas and Kia are still negotiating their relationship, but progress has definitely been made. At first, there was much hissing and hiding. Now, puppy and kitty can walk past each other, there is the occasional sniff, and once in a while, Kia will even tease Atlas. Kia is definitely the boss. Once, she was napping on the living room floor. Atlas walked in, laid on the floor near her, and jumped up almost instantly and walked away – it looked like he was so overwhelmed with nervous excitement that he couldn’t handle it.

Atlas has the wild, the kitty, meat, and a whole lot of love. In his world, all is well.

This past weekend, I had my very first ride on a motorcycle. While on it, I realized that I felt a little cool.

Not completely cool. But kind of cool.

Cool is a word I have never ever ever associated with myself. In high school, I wore glasses and played the flute and got straight As and was neither popular nor athletic. Also, I was in lots of spelling bees in middle school. I was most definitely not considered cool.

Somehow that made me think of someone I know, who probably doesn’t think they’re cool, but I think they’re very cool.

That made me wonder if there might even be people who think I am cool. (What a thought!)

All of this is making me think about labels. About how we apply them to ourselves. About how we apply them to other people. About how we allow those labels to shape us. About how we carry those labels for years, never bothering to take them out and question them.

I am even thinking about labels I might like, because the truth is that they often cause me to extend judgment toward myself and others. If I want to be a kind person, it is hard for me to accept and forgive myself for behavior that is unkind, because it doesn’t align with my perception of a kind person.

I don’t know if it’s possible, but I want to lovingly thank all of my labels for their service and release them with love. I think it would be freeing.

(Ok. I know I just disavowed labels, but I am definitely a thinker, since I seem unable to completely enjoy anything without reflecting on it, even when I don’t mean to. I love that about me.)

Everything I want to say is here, in these photos.

I have been wanting to show you the Upper Peninsula in autumn. Oregon does have beautiful colors, and it is true I have not seen autumn on the East Coast (yet), but I think autumn here is glorious and magnificent. I always have.

I was actually going to do a fall color tour for just this purpose but, on a whim, Atlas and I went on an adventure to find the mouth of the Gratiot River this afternoon. (It’s not very far from my parents’ house, but I had never been there. Apparently it used to require a vehicle with four-wheel drive followed by a hike.) When I saw the trees bursting with color along the way, I decided to take some photos and share them with you.

I had forgotten that the mouth of a river empties into a larger body of water. I thought we were heading to a lazy river. Imagine my surprise when we rounded a corner and saw Lake Superior!

I wandered the shore: collecting rocks, skipping stones, and snapping photos. Atlas tried to escape the stable flies. (As an aside, if you have an idea for keeping flies off dogs that does not involve bug spray, I am all ears.)

On the way home, I stopped at nearly every bend in the road for photos, we passed my parents on the four-wheeler, and then we stopped for ice cream, where I bought Atlas his very own bowl of vanilla ice cream to make up for the flies.

It was a lovely adventure. And I have so much appreciation for the fact that I am here, now, in this season I love and this wild place that I love.

Hello, sand. I wriggle my toes in and around you.

Hello, sun. I turn my face toward you.

Hello, waves. I follow your sound to and fro, to and fro.

Hello, breath. I’ve missed you.

Hello, belly. I feel your clenching and I release you.

Hello, heart. Hello, hello, hello.

Hello, tears. I’ve been waiting for you.

Hello, Beloved Friend. I bow my head and my heart to you.

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon eating pumpkin cake and playing Pictionary with my parents, grandparents, brother & sister-in-law, and sister, as we celebrated my sister’s birthday.

My nephew napped. Kia did whatever kitties do. Atlas napped behind my chair, no doubt dreaming of his own slice of cake.

It was a lovely day.

When I woke up this morning at 8, I felt exhausted, so I went back to sleep. I noticed that my first thought upon rising was, “Why am I still so exhausted?! It’s been a month. I should be getting up earlier by now. This is not acceptable. Besides, yesterday was a relaxing day; I should definitely not be tired.”

The window was open all night and there was a definite chill to the air so my next thought was, “I’m cold.” That thought was immediately followed by something like this, “But I’d have to get out a sweater. That’s fine if I’m cold. I can be cold for a while. I should toughen up anyway. It’s going to be winter soon.”

Why are we so hard on ourselves?

I’ve been practicing loving-kindness for at least five years now, and I find it so interesting that my first thoughts about myself are still so often ones of judgment and censure. This seems especially true when my behavior doesn’t meet a standard that I have set for myself (often one I am unaware of until I don’t meet it) or doesn’t meet a standard that I think other people meet.

I also find it interesting how often I still disregard my body’s needs and wants, thinking they are neither valid nor important.

Atlas and I slept in a tent for most of the past month – this was partly to give my body time to adjust to the kitty, partly so I could get some sleep (if inside, Atlas was too intent on the kitty to sleep which meant that I didn’t sleep), and partly because I was so enjoying it – and I woke up multiple times each night so that if Atlas woke up and rearranged himself, I would be able to immediately rearrange the blankets around him so that he would stay warm. Clearly warmth is important to me.

Sometimes all I need to do is notice.

I let myself be annoyed at my exhaustion. Half an hour later, I realized that I am actually back on my pre-move schedule.

I had forgotten that my body’s schedule had shifted.

It happened late last year or early this year. I was always an early-to-bed, early-to-rise person. Almost overnight, it seemed, I became a late-to-bed, mid-morning-to-rise person. I was often inspired with an idea around 10pm, I would work until 1 or 2am, and then I would wake up around 10am.

I had forgotten about this, possibly because instead of going with the flow, I spent a good deal of time feeling guilty about “sleeping in” and trying to force myself back to my previous schedule.

Sometimes I listen to what my body needs, even when I want to disregard it.

Because I do want my body to know that it is important to me, I took the time to put on a sweater and was amazed at how such a simple thing made me feel so loved and cared for.

I notice that I want to write so much more than this.

About life and art and confusion and passion and purpose. And so much more.

But I will stop for now.

May we all find a way to treat ourselves with compassion.

dear you,

there are many things circling in my mind and heart, but my words are still emerging from the depths.

something is shifting, changing, calling, and so i remain quiet, knowing that i will know what to do and say when it is the right time for me to know what to do and say.

in the meantime, i am sinking further and further into the magic of the lake, and the autumn, and the wild, and the beauty of the night sky.

the northern lights were out last night and i felt their magic and mystery take hold of me. i wished you were here, so you could marvel at their dance with me.

in other news, i have found a new hobby: rock collecting. did you know that there are rocks here that resemble portland in spring? oh my goodness, there are, and they are just glorious. i am like a little kid. (my dad worked at the state park down the road. apparently campsites were littered with rocks when visitors left as children were told, “you’re not taking all those rocks home with you!” i seem to be taking them all home with me.) i need a macro lens so i can capture them properly. also the sand! the sand looks like miniature jewels.

atlas is very happy. well, today he is sick. he is also attached at the hip. but in general, he is happy. he and the kitty are still negotiating a truce, but he loves the wild and the woods and the smells. he has seen a fox and a deer and smelled bear poop and hiked miles and miles and climbed a mountain.

i miss you, you know. i hope you are well. i think of you often, and wish you every blessing.

with love, elizabeth and atlas