i Go Standing Up

I find myself faced with the unexpected pleasure of being male. Not that I didn't expect to, its just that I have been abruptly and purely amazed at my own capacity.
Life as a boy is good. Real good. ;)

I find myself half-way up a rock face, fingers digging in deep.. panting for breathe, the muscles in my forearms crying for mercy..
Or, with a half-empty bottle of deep red wine, running barefoot through the rain in the company of a beautiful, new female acquaintance..
I find myself sleeping in the backseat of a jeep, comfortably sunburned, worn out from a weeks worth of adventure.. my face rough with unshaved whiskers.
I find myself wearing just a pair of old jeans, playing music from a hammock as campfire sparks drift loosely overhead.
Unloading my surfboards at a hostel in California, and then sipping beer with the owner while we share stories about waves.
Stopped on the side of a coastal highway.. replacing a blown out tire, for two young women - my hands and arms covered in brake dust and grease.
In the middle of meditation.
I find myself in the depths of late night poetry.. rambling about the laws of sensual attraction and the beauty of the human spirit.
Or when I lean in for a first kiss.
Or when I am strolling the late-night streets of New York.
Or when I chop firewood with my dad.
Every single time I pee standing up. ;)
There are moments that seem to catch me,.. take me by surprise.. and I'm reminded of just how much I love being a dude.

A complete acknowledgement of my body and my mind has a tremendous impact on how this world looks through my eyes.
I believe the more freely I allow myself to move towards who I am, the more astounded I will become at what I am, and where I fit into this planet's motion. It has been at these moments I mentioned, that I am most aware of my masculine humanity, and the joys of fulfilling that role - whichever way I wish.

Life as a boy is good. :)

(Andrew Tipton)

Take a Breathe

We passed a girl wearing a stunning black feather in her hair..
"Where did you get that?", I asked, mesmerized.
"Down by the lake.. there are a few more there I think." she smiled broadly, and reached up, gently brushing her dark hair away from her face.
The feather fit her.. it looked organic, almost like she had always been wearing it. I am amazed at the way some people flow with nature... sometimes there is almost no distinction between them and the trees, or a sunset, or the whatever beauty may be surrounding them at that moment.
As she walked away, I stared, intrigued at the simple elegance of her motion.
I found three feathers by the lake. Each extraordinary by its own right. Two slender black feathers.. so dark that they shimmered iridescently in the afternoon sunlight. One very long feather, full of body and strength.. I'm sure the previous owner regrets losing it. There is something completely uncommon about a feather.. the way it moves, the texture, the lightness.. it is majestic and natural in the same space.
I placed all three in my bag, and then tossed myself beneath maple tree for shade. Letting my camera drop to the grass, I leaned back into the smooth trunk behind me, and took a breathe.
It was the first breathe I had taken all day (the first breathe I payed attention to) and I felt it as it came in: The deep swell of the lungs, the gentle delicious taste of life sweeping down inside my body.
It is a good feeling to be where you are.. to breathe the moment, mentally capturing the details that can often slip by so fleetingly.
As I sat under the maple tree.. I slowed my thoughts, and let myself only consider one thing: Inhale...... exhale... inhale.... exhale... such a simple thought, yet at the same time it put me in the center of my own world - the experience of the moment opened up to me.. I noticed the shade of blue beyond the clouds, I noticed the edge of the shadows left by the leaves above me, I noticed the faces of the people strolling by.. the day that I had been wandering through.. became alive and vivid!

I placed one of the feathers in my van window, stuck one in the pages of my journal, and one is still inside my bag.. they are reminders to take a breathe.. to take a deliberate moment, and breathe in my world; breathing you deep inside me someplace where I will keep you and remember how good it was to be here right now.
Belle Aujour'hui, thank you for this day.





Andrew Tipton

Who owns our mornings?
When we wake up.. how much time do we allow ourselves before letting our minds wander like stray ponies?
Do we rush off into our day..? or do we linger a moment in place that belongs entirely to our soul - an embrace with our breathe, with our being here, with our own skin, our own eyes, our own hands and voice.
Often times, I am too distracted to give myself this gift.. to spend a few moments remembering my condition; my impermanence, my dying, my undeserved still here.
Sometimes in the morning as I wake up, I like to take walks through the forest - attempting to see myself in the smallest of details.. to notice everything that my senses will allow. On these days, I find that I am caught in a rainstorm of bewilderment.. life is no longer happening to me.. it is happening through me.




(Andrew Tipton)

The Book Of Thoughts

Trent turned and tossed his bag across his left shoulder. Not much packed, just a few shirts, jeans, books, and his mandolin with the lovely curved neck.
We clasped hands, gave an embrace; I wished him well on his journey and said something cliche but from my heart. Standing there with my sunglasses pulled up holding my hair out of my face, I watched as he disappeared into the train station. Immediately, I began to imagine his quiet ride in train car 7... I imagined our summer together... the trouble we'll get into and adventures that have not yet unfolded. I imagined music at sunset on the beach.. the pleasure of being half-naked lying in the sand, and feeling our muscles aching from a good surf - our hearts warm with laughter and faces filled up with peaceful grins.
I smiled as I jumped back up into the van.. what an excellent thought. My door swung shut, and I stared out the front window for a few seconds as raindrops started to splash across the glass.
I would love to bottle up the smell of afternoon showers.

We live in a world of stories; a world of ideas, of voices and prayers, poems and thoughts.. these simple, elegant, potent beauties.
I would love to capture a few... hold them like fireflies.. let them light up my mind.




Andrew Tipton