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Forest Woodward

No more shenanigans, no more tom more ballyhoo Similar users

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Jacob Moon
Timmy ONeill
Ben Moon
Paul Nicklen

We didn’t see anyone else for ten days. The weather was good, and the bears and the bugs were too in their own way. We did not intend to become smug. Mostly we played scrabble and drank coffee, but some days we got bored with the scrabble and our eyes began to move a bit too rapidly from the coffee and we looked at rocks and they looked back at us, and we didn’t say much except put things in bags and walked up hill until we needed our hands to help our feet. If we were lucky maybe we looked over our shoulders to watch the sun set and think “how pretty” quietly to ourselves, maybe give a whoop, maybe give an extra shit about it all, make a note, reminders “why”, and yes keep that it will help later. maybe the next day or one day we would do it again, though we knew we probably never would and that maybe this was enough


Snacklaxing #35mm #m6


I took the camera out twice on this climb. Once when we were very caffeinated and very excited, and once, 26 hours later, when we were less caffeinated and had refined our excitement considerably #drinkingpinkrabbits #stillmarginallyexcited #m6 #35mm #leica #climbingwithleadweights #bc at British Columbia


Longs Peak, “it was a neat time”. Caption help from @ashleelangholz @semi_rad @hilary_m_oliver, mountain whispering by @alpineworks background wheezing by me at Longs Peak


I do not know where he is now. I never knew. Which was, and has long been, the way. Separation for the sake of facile subjugation. Exploitation if you prefer. Work but don’t be seen. Work but don’t be heard. Work until we don’t need you anymore. Here this is the way; now go away • I spent the greater part of two years (2012/13) in the fields and vineyards of California and Florida gathering the stories of mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, grandmothers and grandfathers who work out of sight and out of mind to put fresh food in farm stands and supermarkets across the country. The work is hard, the thanks scarce • Those years were formative; peeling away the (seemingly bottomless) layers of my own ignorance and assumptions regarding the equality of opportunity in America, while at the same time pulling back the veil on a centuries old industrial agricultural system built upon slavery and sustained to the present day by the calculated and systematic exploitation of immigrant groups • When people asked me what I learned, or what my hopes were after our time in the fields, my answer always came back to this: that when we pass a farmworker on the street or in the fields we acknowledge the daily efforts they make and their foundational role in American economy and society - and that we greet them accordingly. that rather than treat migrant workers as outsiders, we create the space in thought, heart and action that we might sit at the same table and look upon one another with appreciation instead of ambivalence or animosity. We have all and always been in this together • A thanks to the @immokalee.workers for their tireless advocacy and for welcoming us into their community to learn and share some of their stories, and to the foodchains crew for the conversations, companionship and caring @mrsanjayr @carlmbanks @kesharis at United States of America


Observatory reconnaissance with @canopycrew / Red River Gorge, KY


Summer prowls


It me . Older, and most assuredly no wiser. Grateful for the wild family and friends with whom I get to wander this winding path - y’all keep it curious, keep it loving, keep it strange. Here’s to a year of doing more for others, more spontaneous humor and delights, more hard work and deep quiet, more good questions and time to listen...oh and yes yes, less staring at screens. See ya out there ✌️😉


stand a little closer, look a little longer. may you always remember the path that leads you back... 🧡




4:37pm yesterday afternoon. Eastbound out of Atlanta. I brake hard and pull my rental car into the median. Opening the driver door I run through mud and kneehigh grass, pounding rain hissing off the asphalt and hammering the silver backs of tractor trailers as they slam brakes and swerve lanes. A small battered pickup truck with front end hanging in pieces sits cockeyed, facing traffic in the fast lane. The driver looks shaken but sits himself back behind the wheel. Another fellow who has pulled over sets his shoulder into the broken grill of the totaled rig, and together we roll it out of the freeway . . I pull over at the next exit to wash my hands and clean where the skin caught and tore on the ragged metal of the wreck. I wonder absentmindedly what made me stop. A split second reaction to pull from the flow of rubber necking motorists with places to be and problems enough of our own . . I’ve passed by plenty of people who needed my help. I pass them by each day. Cheaper by the dozen, hundred, thousand - the more there are the easier to look away. Always with a clever excuse close at hand as to why I am almost, *but not quite* the right person to help, not today - tomorrow surely - just not today, not right now. Too busy, too ill equipped, too self absorbed . . I watch blood swirl down the drain of the Racetrak sink as I peel back skin and scrub some soap into the flap, 100 types of milkshake. This gas station’s claim to fame. Churning slushees line the wall above candy island. I dry my hands, the bleeding stopped, and walk back out into rain, smiling for the better part of no reason . . It’s not that we don’t all have an innate capacity to do good and help others. we do. it’s rather that we - or hell, I at least - forget. too busy, too scared, or too numbed by the false security of self importance. I don’t think I’ll ever be cured of those tendencies, ever be free of the deceits of ego and fear, but I’m sure as hell happy for the reminders when they come. Basic human goodness isn’t something we find when we arrive at the top, out there, or tomorrow. It’s something we are born with, whose roots sit deep and are watered by the small deeds


Grateful for the reminder that films and friends provide each year through sharing raw, honest, and challenging stories of humanity coupled with rambunctious, ridiculous and joyous celebrations of life. Left this year’s gathering at @mountainfilm reminded that it is the small things, the day to day, that create bridges to understanding and kindness and community and all those things that we need more of if we really want to nudge the needle on something larger than ourselves. Wake up, look up, stand up, reach out; we are all fragile, we are all human, and we are all in this together.


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