Welcome to the digital home for all things from Dalton Johnson.
All in Adventure Photography
When we begin questioning the path we are on, oftentimes it is because we are in downtime, or are not seeing the results we had expected. The fifty questions below are a way to work through these downtimes and remind ourselves of what we are capable of doing, remind ourselves of the successes we have had, and to begin pointing your compass towards your true north.
This poem was written with the intention of encouraging others to step outside of thier comfort zone and start engaging with their dreams. I use the motif of watching your dreams go by, season after season, from a window. This idea is pulled from a quote I learned while I was working as an outdoor educator (teaching backpacking, rock climbing, etc.) for Outward Bound that goes like this: “A ship in harbor is safe, but that isn’t what a ship is for.”
Cycles define our lives. We ebb and flow, much like the tides pulled by the moon’s gravity. Some cycles are short, while others last a lifetime. Our relationships, our work, our creativity all require attention (the flowing) and withdrawal (the ebbing). Recently, I have been wondering what would it take to control these cycles. Are they controllable? Well, my intuition lands on a simple answer, no. No, I do not think we can control these cycles, but we can learn to recognize and embrace each orbit.
In the world of taxes, mortgages, car payments, student loans, utility bills, etc. we—or at least myself—fall into the trap of forgetting to play. I don’t mean going out with friends or surfing your favorite break. The play I am talking about is the kind you enjoyed as a little kid. Growing up in a rural place, I often played naked in the backyard during a rainstorm with my GI Joes or I was pretending to be Tarzan climbing trees. While I keep my nudity to a minimum these days, I hope you get what I mean.
Stepping out of the van, the temperature is 29 degrees Fahrenheit, there is a fresh layer of snow in the desert. Quickly closing the door in hopes of keeping my partner’s warmth within, I begin to wander. The goal, return with a few images I can be proud of on this unique morning. I mean, how often do you get to see snow in the desert?
Until this past weekend, I had no idea the term “Digital Nomad” existed. Turns out, earning a living through a digital medium, like photography, and living on the road or in a nomadic style, makes you a digital nomad. Low and behold, I can call myself a digital nomad. Thank goodness I have another box to fit within! As I scrolled through the wiki page, I realized the box which fits me best is a sub-category of nomads called Van-dwellers. For some odd reason, I like the term van-dweller more than van-lifer. I wonder if anyone else has these same thoughts? Anyways, I digress. I wanted to share some tips and tricks I’ve learned as I dawn this fancy new Digital Nomad title from these past 4-years of roaming.
Then reality hits me and I’m brought back to the present. My hands are relatively warm, my feet hurt, but my heart is filled with joy. Not far off, I can see the tents. Once there I will sit with others, and share a cup of tea.
The sixty-hour weekend clock had begun, the van was packed, we were eager, but understood it wasn’t enough time. It’s never enough time. Headed north from Pismo Beach, we took the PCH to the iconic, rugged coastline of Northern California, Big Sur. Leading up to us cranking the tunes and rolling down the windows to let in the ocean breeze, Big Sur had a mystical feel told to us by those who had visited.
Warming Rays
Warming rays beat down through the crystal-like sky,
upon the everlasting grassy plain, where you lay.
Exposed, your delicate body rests in the thick green grass
shimmering from the reflection off the beads of sweat
which trickle down your brow, across your chest, and down your elegant stomach.
Absorbing the rays of heat, like a butterfly preparing for flight,
your beauty radiates. Blinding all those
who look at your body, and not at you.
For your true beauty lays below the skin,
In your mind which creates and destroys
everlasting thoughts of love, harmony, and solidarity.
Growing up I was constantly reminded that, “life is a marathon, not a sprint.” My mom, coaches, teachers, and other adults would tell me this almost daily. At times, I thought they were all in on a cruel joke! I hated these reminders! They did not make sense, why would you tell somebody that has a goal to slow down? Devoted to a pool, putting in 3 hours a day staring at a black-line does something to your mental state. I just wanted to go faster.
A hero must give back all that was unrightfully inherited. The fight is no longer against nature, but against the constructs confining ourselves. Relearning how to trust others, share, and care for the land. If we want freedom, we must live out our contracts we have made, attempt to not pass on any obligations to our children, and work towards surrendering to the misfortune we have created. Learn the impacts of what we have created, feel the suffering, and heal each other. Our modern hero is not the one pushing the boundaries of what stuff can do, but those pushing the boundaries of how love can heal.
The quote, “Ah Japhy [aka Snyder] you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can’t fall off a mountain…” said Kerouac to Snyder on their way down the Matterhorn in Northern Yosemite. While this quote shows the playfulness of Kerouac trying to understand there is meaning in every moment of life if you are willing to listen. While scrambling to the top of the Matterhorn is a physical accomplishment, the quote takes the physical and becomes metaphorical. Once you have reached a goal or the top of a mountain, it can not be taken away from you.
Please understand this piece is supposed to be an exaggerated metaphor on human’s relationship with the constant struggle of living. The mosquito, a tiny little pest that all-to-often ruins my day, represents all of the little struggles we run into throughout our daily life. The ludicrous examples of “attempting” to fix the problem are how I feel we try to handle the continual onslaught, oftentimes overworking ourselves just to solve something we could ignore or prevent with an extra layer of clothing. The third paragraph is a metaphor for hiding our problems inside of ourselves instead of addressing them with a conversation that would be uncomfortable. Often I would say the lack of vocabulary, structure, and timing around communicating feelings is the beginning of the discomfort.
Stuck inside, I dive deep into the ocean avoiding the oncoming wave. Hoping to not be sucked into the wave and thrown over the falls. Swimming down a bit late, I am lucky this wave’s energy doesn’t descend deep, but it does show up early and stay late…
Crawling into bed she reaches over grabbing her journal and pencil. The bedside lamp shines its yellow glow upon the unlined paper. The page is blank, yet her mind is full of the day. Each night she slides under the covers, following the same routine. She asks herself five questions, recording her thoughts, then lays her head down to fall asleep. That routine has just begun. Tapping her eraser against the blank page she runs through her day. Then, she writes:
After the memory card fills with morning barrels or a dead camera battery, I swim to shore to exchange my camera for a surfboard. Getting back to the van, my partner is dancing to some of her favorite tunes and she makes her morning coffee. The way her smile touches her ears as she sips that mud water, releases a net-full of butterflies into my belly.
The starry skies of the Baja blanket the beach we slept upon. The waves have been out of this world and our bodies are sore from the onslaught of surf sessions. The morning's goal, start surfing waves before the sun rises over the mountains.
In a split second while you are walking down the street, the cartoon lightbulb flashes on. Your mind and heart eagerly agree that the idea is perfect, the timing is right, and you should do it. So, you sit down, take out your notebook, and jot down the idea so clear you see straight to the bottom. Looking up from your notebook you notice the sun has faded into the night sky. Can I really do this? The argument begins.
