Traveling is about more than the dream destination. The way we transport ourselves during our travels provides the perfect opportunity to engage our thoughts in idle wondering about the scenes that drift past the car or train window.
A walk in the countryside after lunch. You walk and walk along a path flanked by green fields of still unripe wheat, creating a slightly monotonous view. In the distance you notice a small vibrant spot of color. As you approach, you see something is going on. The feeling that you are in front of a canvas is growing. If looking at a canvas at a museum wall feels like being in front of a window to another world or mind, this feels like a frameless window at a random place. Like a casual layer of order in the middle of randomness. A meta-window – nature inside nature – gracefully displayed.
A small, fine line weaves across the sidewalk. So mundane, and quite easy to overlook, yet filled with unspoken intent.
To many of us, the sight of a creek or river is such a common one that we often forget that they’re there. However, the ties that connect these moving bodies of water to the people who thrive from their proximity are always essential.
Or, how to grow strong, be humble, and live a life of wisdom.
Gastronomical pleasure can be derived from the well-balanced flavors and textures of an excellent dish, and sometimes more so from the memories associated with the last time you ate it. Here, we remember a few fond childhood memories of cooking with family.
Reflecting on the childhood appeal of playgrounds, despite the inevitable bumps and bruises.
Time is a fickle thing. It flies, it crawls, it stretches; it even disappears. It can be broken into pieces—“sometimes”; repeat itself—“time and time again”; stretch on infinitely—“all the time”. How does it do that?
It’s amazing how terribly brief the most precious moments in life are. Like a flower blooming in a tree, reaching a beauty and delicateness peak, and then quickly decaying. Fortunately, after a good moment is gone, another one will follow at a different place and time, with the same or different people, or alone. But maybe, the fact that we know that moment won’t last is something that makes us appreciate it more.
Gratitude and appreciation, for both your surroundings and yourself, are vital to an optimistic view of life. In this last post in the series, we consider the circumstances in which we feel thankful, as well as how to find and nurture feelings of gratefulness.
One defining characteristic of human beings is the ability to mirror the emotions of our neighbors and sympathize with their happiness or plight. Here, we consider how empathy shapes our mindsets, whether we are thinking about work or play.
Allowing a moment of curiosity in your everyday comings and goings can have a small, but important, effect on how you perceive the events of the day. Here, we explore curiosity, investigating the social pressures that cause us to hide our questions and the reasons we benefit from asking them.
Endings can be sad and lonely affairs, but they are also opportunities to look forward to new beginnings. We follow the fading light to see what it reveals.
Rainfall was heavy at the end of this year. Seeing so many bright and serene surfaces glinting back at me inspired me to do a little of my own reflecting.
The weather and temperature can have a strong effect on our moods and behavior. With the approach of winter, how do our habits and patterns change to adapt to the cooler chill?
Fog clouds the landscape, obscures the vision, and hides the beauty that was visible just yesterday. We took one recent foggy day as an opportunity to forget about what we wanted to see, and instead enjoy the fleeting shapes that rose before our eyes.
The act of tending to a being other than ourselves can provide a gentle reminder to listen not only to the needs of the things around us, but also to the needs of our bodies and minds.
An unusual rain blew through the region last weekend. Its strange timing was oddly soothing amidst the recent hustle and bustle. Caught by surprise, I found myself observing details that I usually overlook.
The benefits of taking the time to travel without a map every once in awhile.
Observing the sights and sounds of the daily morning walk.
A place becomes a very different creature when the timing is right. Even those with world-famous qualities and lore—like San Francisco’s Financial District—have a little-known and hidden side.
Searching for treasures on the beach is like hunting for the last vestiges of summer, presenting you with small fragments that remind you of the sand and the sun, long after the warmest season has departed.
Our urban spaces rise from land that rarely resembles its original nature. Sometimes, though, the smallest hint of the landscape makes an appearance, and often in some strange places.
Some mornings are mad rushes to make it out the door, while others are leisurely with time to think and reflect. What mornings habits do you follow, no matter how frantic the pace? We ask some friends for their answers.
Dots, dashes, lines, shapes—there are lots of strange markings hiding on the streets of San Francisco. Have you heard their stories?
Explore what it is that defines a neighborhood and peek into one of America’s historic residential corners: Beacon Hill, Boston.
Every major metropolitan city has a Financial District, and San Francisco is no exception. In the third post of our series, we capture the highly gridded facades of this downtown neighborhood.
For the second post in this series, we explore the rich and stately neighborhoods that follow San Francisco’s northern coast—Presidio Heights, Laurel Heights, and Pacific Heights.
Within urban spaces, grids can be found almost anywhere. In this series, we take a look at where these grids are and explore how they differ in expression between neighborhoods. Up first: San Francisco’s Chinatown.
A brief history of art collections throughout the ages, and a reflection on the lives of historical and cultural objects.
There is an undeniable pull to objects of our past—after history has given them significance, after they’ve gained the patina of nostalgia. How does this connection form? Can the qualities that give an object beauty and appreciation simply not exist until after time does its work?
Living things experience a constant flow of movement through space and time. Is it possible to remain still, even for a moment?
This past weekend, I visited one edge of the world. It wasn’t really that far of a journey. I’ve always lived near it and now live closer to it than I’ve ever been. I can actually see it from my bedroom window on the clear days. But I decided I wanted to know it better. So I packed a few things, hopped on a train, and went exploring along the edge of the world.
Telephone poles and wires are relics of the recent past, tilted and neglected like figures trying to stay out of the way of the stream of modern, wireless communication. However, they are also a persevering reminder of the physical, tangible connection between two people engaged in conversation.
The marks of time surround us. A line on paper, a texture on wood, a trace of dust on the surface, a scattering of dirt on the road. What stories and wisdom do they have to tell us?
Reflections on the possibilities of an unoccupied room, and why we feel the urge to determine what happened when we were out.
Everyday objects become strange, intriguing canvases for a fleeting moment.
A reflection on the disappearance of the handwritten note, and an appreciation for the simple tools involved in letter and card writing.
The city by the bay enjoys dazzling displays of green during the first months of the year. To some, the greenery is but a pesky tangle of weeds, brought to life by the onslaught of rain. But before you set your heart on removing them from sight, take a moment to hear their stories. There’s more to them than what meets the eye.
For the modern day human, the preparation of food is an unavoidable preface to the act of eating. Cooking is, in some ways, a necessary task, a means to an end that features a nourishing and delicious meal. However, cooking is also an opportunity to appreciate the food we eat and the people we share that food with.
January is a time to celebrate the new year, new goals, and new ideas. In this spirit of fresh opportunity, we stopped to take in a more humble yet breathtaking beginning—that of the new day.
With so many priorities pulling our attention from one task to another, it is easy to leave behind the experiences and routines that nourish us as individuals. However, our smallest (and sometimes, most aimless) creations can be the ones that give us the greatest sources of delight.
We are sometimes told that joy is something to be sought out, as if we had lost it or hidden it away. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and take in what is around you. You might just remember that a source of joy has been right by your side.