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Robert E. Livingood
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My heArt Made Me Do It
My heArt Made Me Do It

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It Will Stop
Slocan Valley. Slight breeze coming off the lake at the base of the Vallhalla Range. Melt waters draining the high-country snow fields. River swelling over its banks. The steady white noise ambience of rushing creeks. Red-winged blackbird and warbler song. ...
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Circling Around
In the mountains, snow finally descending as I listen to Psychic TV’s Ov Whales and Dolphins spinning on the turntable.  Thinking about the recent visit I had with an elder from the Tsihlqot’in First Nation, how he sat by the wood stove with drum and rattle...
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For Future Generations
On the wide open grasslands, where some of the once great herds of buffalo still roam, representatives of hundreds of indigenous tribes and thousands of their allies from all over the world have gathered.  They have assembled to protect the water.   Like so...
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Where the Journey Begins
Night number one.  Moon slowly rising over Honeyface Mountain in a soft, salt-lamp orange.   Glacial melt waters whisper to stars that flicker like tiny kisses in the sky.  We light what is to be the first of many fires to come.  Heavy smoke swirls around u...
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Back from the Wild
Back from an extended journey into a deeply wild place that, for its protection, I will leave unnamed.  The trip developed from an idea that visual artist, Stephanie Kellett, had to create a multi-media body of work based on the theme of re-wilding. She wan...
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Night Time
Night time in one of the world’s wildest places. The campfire has died. Laying in a tent on the ground beneath conifer trees. All of the animals that existed before the arrival of  the  white colonists still thrive here. Ears listening as nature intended. T...
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For Prince and The Electrifying Mojo
Feeling the death of Prince and t hinking about my earliest encounters with his music.   I was ten or eleven years old, cruising Woodward Avenue in downtown Detroit. It was me and my sister in her snow white 1979 RX-7 with red pinstripes.  With the radio tu...
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