I have always written stories and taken pictures, since the time I stood in winter fields with my Dad waiting for the light, or wrote my first autobiography at age six, passing the hours in the waiting room at my sister’s ballet lessons. I have always kept my stories to myself, not believing that I had encountered, let alone recorded, something that was worth sharing. Having given up any judgment of that worthiness, my search moves to the ordinary and the artifacts that those moments leave. That is what I have to offer and what you might find here. While not all the stories and poems refer directly to Zen, they all reflect its presence in my life, in a determined effort to pay attention to my experience.