The life of artist, photographer, traveler, and writer Steven Boone. Steven was born in Chicago but now lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA. His paintings are widely collected, and also included in the permanent collections of the US Department of Interior and The Foundation Van Gogh D'Arles, in Arles, France.
Boone lost his daughter to cancer when she was nineteen. His award-winning book, called "A Heart Traced in Sand" recall his experiences with her living and dying.
Sunday, April 05, 2015
I called it THE DREAM; a year of
astonishing travel around the world. The DREAM perception began in
Belize, when I arrived to live among black folk in the town of
Dangriga, on the Caribbean Sea. (Entering THE DREAM) Each day, I painted, wrote, and made
photos, venturing forth into the unknown. My mind shifted from
analysis and planning to complete acceptance of the moment. I began
having total trust in what was being presented to me, seeing the gift
of life everywhere and in everything. Opportunities arose and I had
no fear because I did not live with feelings of opposition or
separateness. My surroundings and I were one, and as events unfolded
and I met people, the experiences were more profound because I was
open to them—even expecting them. Events and consciousness seemed
continuous and woven together, full of wonder and surprise—as if in
a dream. I was the dreamer bearing witness.
With Windell, in Belize
When I wrote my blogs from nineteen
countries, I often described living in THE DREAM. It took care of me
and informed my life.
Now I am newly single again. Once,
during a therapy session while I was married, I was told “You may
never be able to travel like that again Steven.” But I think I
Erg Chebbi, Morocco
Lately, during the pain of losing my
mate and the aftermath, I have wondered about the random thoughts
that effect my thinking and emotions. Thoughts and emotions are not
permanent. I have been looking to a higher reality to gain
perspective—to find immutable truth. Everything
depends on it or else falls apart. My life has come undone so I have
been ardently going to the place of truth, longing only to stay in
that sacred temple. The more I am there, the more I see that THE
DREAM is not only the fleeting occurrences all around me, but the
terrain of my mind as well. Truth is independent of mind, beyond time
and space. I am not talking about relative truth but rather the absolute: God, the uncreated Creator Who dwells in all, and is
first recognized by our souls.