An empty airport in Alburque, New Mexico.
The Southwest plane not here yet.

Returning home after the PCI workshop.

Sent a note and photos to PF.
Sensemaking.
A long time colleague.
He knows this type of work.
Knows my core strengths, flat sides.
Another fellow traveler who "sees".
A sounding board.

Thought of DJM and his career and life.
His resiliency and ambition.
A good host.
And thought about my many trips to AZ
(New Mexico's sister state).
Working with him as a thinking partner.
Strategist.
Consiglieri.
Now, that consulting work is over.
Grateful for that work over many years.
Deep bonds and trust built.
A working relationship as solid as these rugged mountains.

Arriving home at 11 pm.
Tired but "never as tired as my Father was".
I say this to myself often.
Remembering his Valley Green messages.
That is how I find my bearings.

Time, lost and found.
Carrying regrets, known and acknowledged.
An invisible sadness inside.
Learning from the mistakes.
Assessing the missteps.

Seeing mountains in the skyline.
Dessert colors.
Blue skies.
White clouds.
Browns, golds, turquoise.
The Fall sunlight.
Silence.

Work travel.
Traveling solo.
Reflecting on what worked and what did not.
Saving my teaching notes.
I value intellectual craftsmanship, bricolage, teaching to need.

More inner excellence and detatchment required.
Pure seeing.
Lightheartedness.
Believing "grace is everywhere".

Always, carrying that faithful black Moleskin notebook.
Journaling.
Moments, images, reveries worked thru.
Noting all shadow work needed.
I value inner honesty and coming to terms.

Many long flights over many years.

Today, 2 hour delays between connections.

Opportunity always to "take stock".
Do an AAR (after action review).
Noting changes needed in my teaching plan.
Looking forward to the 2015 workshops.
Getting the work right.

And, importantly, looking back.
Recovering the personal inner images.
Attend to others with greater intentionality.
Remember starting out in 1975.
Teaching at GMC.
Beginnings.
Deep friendships made (Eileen).
Learning a craft.
We read Robert Coles, "The Old Ones".
Wonderful photographs and narrative portraits
Taken here in New Mexico.
Thinking of Sam and his Indian-like face.
His heartfelt love.
A boy unconditionally loved by an old man.
Our late afternoon car rides from HGP (1964).
He was in his early 70s
I was 13.
I think of Parker and Ella, now.
Being present to them like Sam was to me.
The joy they bring.
Their delight in the everyday.
KB's "standing tall".

Time moves in phases.
We travel in circles and spirals, not straight lines.

I need to reread Coles book.
Study the photographs.
Reread Stafford's, "Early Morning".
Learn from both of them.
Need to address my unfinished task and publish Dad's book.
He would be 87 on Friday.
Need to write a Robert Coles type introduction to his book,
A narrative portrait of a man,
His courage and compassion,
His learnings,
His teachings,
In that unwanted journey with cancer,
And complete the two appendices.

Always, we begin again.