The post that relaunched S+ last Tuesday had been on my mind all through the remainder of the week, long of tooth and claw as it was.

By Saturday, I was more than ready for some non-metaphorical, reflective downtime.

I live right across the street from a church, Brown Memorial. It’s been under renovation for years. And this weekend, or more precisely, the moment I stepped outside, their grand Rededication Service began — complete with student orchestra, 200-person deep line of worshippers, and police-present closure of Washington Avenue.

Rededication… I don’t think I’d ever used the word before last week. Spellcheck complains every time I type it and my workstation’s dictionary/thesaurus has no entry.

But there it was, on a banner opposite my home, and in the hearts of everyone around me- REDEDICATION. Let’s get cosmic, baby.

Two years ago I created a storytelling form that I somewhat understand.

A Picture Story is a very rapid slideshow of still photographs, set to audio. The photography is grueling. It requires the image-maker to fire each frame manually in response to the tempo of the surroundings (and FPS desired) while maintaining an acute awareness of everything underfoot and likely to come in the near future. The editing process is even more demanding. It requires the sorting, renaming, processing, cropping, sequencing and understanding of tens of thousands of photographs.

But it’s worth it. The balance of energy and depth possible in a Picture Story surprises me still, and I think a key component of what works is that it actively recruits the viewer’s imagination. Straight video spoonfeeds and stills can be grazed with inattentive eyes. This has a funky flow, and I like it.

The fiber of the format is something that I’m still learning how to weave, and it spurs much creative growth. Because: in the editing room, I have to unravel the unstructured/prescient storylines that my shutter snaps commit me to… Without a map. And even if there was a map, the map isn’t the territory: intellectualization fails to finish the job that heart starts (I’ve tried).

Call it heart, guts, spirit or soul; this is what starts the ball rolling in the first place. So, when editing, the game is to retrieve that state of being, open and synchronized to causes and probabilities.

The piece I’m working on now, for The Posse Foundation, will be done soon. The past 32 hours have been trancelike and productive, and I’m feeling that mix of anxiety and clarity that comes when I have it by the tail — a good high.

I’m liking where this is taking me. Especially given the long-range of my dreams. Picture Stories are particularly impressive when projected, and they present many pathways for interaction.

Partnership proposals takes up a growing amount of my time these days; AFTH has a very bright future.

With these documents, I consider the terms of VR’s future. And I want us working with people that get the long range of my dreams in no uncertain terms. To this end – our handbooks now feature the following quote on page two, before any other content.

Click for a printable PDF

Intention matters; it dictates so much. Consider taking this moment to check yours.

Test prints: Ashton Worthington.

“I fully realize that no wealth of position can long endure, unless built upon truth and justice; therefore, I will engage in no transaction which does not benefit all whom it affects. I will succeed by attracting to myself the forces I wish to use, and the cooperation of other people. I will induce others to serve me, because of my willingness to serve others. I will eliminate hatred, envy, jealously, selfishness, and cynicism, by developing love for all humanity, because I know that a negative attitude towards others can never bring me success. I will cause others to believe in me, because I will believe in them, and in myself.”

—Napoleon Hill, 1883-1970

The 2011 pages of Superbiate & Son described a liminal period between a timeless-but-outgrown archive of commercial photographs and another, deeper place in my heart.

“Place”… Maybe a poor choice of word. All I’ve come recognize in life are spirals.

(But it suits that sentence construction.)

Walk long enough and one finds the beginning again and again, beginning and end always underfoot. Whenever I stop to review the past few years I know the velocity, and it has a certain sadness. There’s only so much you can carry on a trek, and there’s only so far that the companions met along the way can travel. We’re all trying to find our own best truths in this too-short lifetime, and that everyday miracle of aligned paths – no matter for how long – is one worthy of celebration. And release.

Understanding how to reserve a space for life’s spiral by living with open hands; learning to wear an open heart for the benefit of those around me; forgetting fear. These are major aspects of the essential education 2011 brought, and it came the hard way. The Dalai Lama’s 18th rule for living spells it out clearly enough:

“Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.”

To look back and understand the gift, to record the wish for another chance in the sand, and to let the ocean wash the regrets away. Rededication.

Serenity comes. Clarity follows. Energy renews, and tending to the garden of my life through 2012 and beyond will need all of this (and so much more).

From this post onward I’m going to use Superbiate & Son to annotate my creative life with an eye towards absolute authenticity. Taking the time (but not too much) to clarify my thoughts and process into something publishable will be an important exercise for me, and hopefully the product can prove useful to my small-but-real readership.

In particular if you’re on the run-up to taking your own leap of becoming. Whatever your dream may be, do know that you’ll someday have to leap to reach it.

And you’ll have to do it alone.

But don’t worry about it too much: there’s plenty of company, up here in the air.