It was the last one.

JWST is a scientific inspiration.  It is the most incredible and complex, optical instrument we can feasibly put into space with the technology we have today.   It will capture the most detailed pictures ever recorded of our universe, and give us hard evidence of things we can just barely guess at.

I’ve personally been working on it for the last 7 years, and part of the JWST Primary Mirror Segment Assembly testing team for the last 4 years. 

All 18 flight mirrors have completed their last cryogenic optical test.  This is a major milestone, and has been one of the reasons JWST has been able to keep funding this year.  As an optical engineer the PMSAs are by far the most interesting and complex portion of JWST, and I am thrilled to have played such a large role.

Light is a huge part of our world, and has been the focus of my career and schooling for the last 11 years.  Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day, and the longest night, a time that has always been special in my life. 

Last year I organized a fire above Boulder to watch the Full Lunar Eclipse.  The year before we sent a flaming balloon into the heavens above Boulder.  This year I am sending JWST mirrors on their final trip back to Colorado. 

Since the last Winter Solstice I’ve dove into the most beautiful relationship of my lifetime, one in which purpose, deepening connection, and sharing with the world are the guiding principles.

 I went part time at Ball, opening up energy for more creative projects while maintaining my connection with JWST, space, and optical engineering. 

I rafted the Grand Canyon for 21 days with my dad, 280miles of adventure and exploration. 

I bought a house, and moved up Sunshine Canyon with three of the people I care about the most, returning to the forest, and mountain life I crave. 

I stepped down from Assistant Chief at BES, making time and gaining perspective on what it means to truly help someone.

I performed a wedding for a close friend, starting his partnership journey with a ceremony of love. 

I’ve continued helping to organize Ignite Boulder, running our 17th event at the sold out Boulder Theater a few weeks ago, challanging and changing my fear of public speaking and public spotlight into something I am cumfortable and capable of.

I climbed trees for a month in Oregon with Kate and my Dad, exploring my love of biology and climbing, and really opening up my life to the possibility of alternative jobs, and life experiences since I moved to Colorado.

I’ve continually opened my heart, and listened to it more than ever before.  It’s been hard and scary many times, but more and more I find myself inspired to empower the world around me with what I know I can give.

I think back on this solar year, and forward to the next one, and I feel hope, excitement, and love.  Join me in making this next cycle beautiful and inspiring for the whole world.

It is one of the grandest quests we have, to understand, inspire, and keep opening up the universe of possibilities.  It keeps our inner wonder alive and thriving, as well as clearly shows that there is something out there bigger than any of us; something beautiful that we are a part of. 

I can think of no other task more deserving of our energy in this moment.  Go team humans!

Highlining, Public Speaking, Kitboarding, Free Soloing, Crazy Rope Swings, and last year I submitted and adventure idea to Teva with my friend Andrew.

 I feel that doing scary things puts us in a place of Satori meditation, slams our awareness into the present moment, and creates an environment for extreme growth.  It is what happens when we travel, learn something new, ask someone to dance, or do something that scares us.   We live!

So,  what now?

I’m embarking on an amazing (and a bit scary) journey.  My friend Kate Jaworski and I are writing Lucid an Electro-Opera.  It is the awakening of the human spirit, a musical, multimedia, dance experience taking the audience through a woman’s journey in and out of dream-space, lucidity, and the angular physical-world chaos, to a place of connected peaceful presence. 

Kate is an incredible musician, a lighting designer, an exuberant creator, and passionate bright being.  I love writing, analyzing, organizing, creating, and know how to manage chaos (thanks BES!). We both love the world deeply, are infatuated with the human spirit, and feed on the deep pulsing undercurrent of our community universe.  We are a great team. 

A Lucid proposal has been submitted to the Black Box theater at CUAtlas (thanks for the help Ali!).  The Black Box Theater is a magical space with movable seats, and state of the art sound, lighting, and projection setups; it is perfect for this particular show.  They are in the process of selecting next year’s productions right now, and hopes and dreams fly high, so take a moment and help us envision this dream as a part of all of our world. 

Stay tuned!  Lots of things in the works.  Kate is working on writing electronic music, we’re setting up our recording studio.  I’m learning the basics of all-things theater, music, and dance related.  We’re meeting with costume designers (found an awesome one!), choreographers, dancers, photographers, musicians, videographers, enlightening gurus, etc.  Wham. Bam. Life!

Rough dates for the show will be February/March 2012; it is something you won’t want to miss.

Is your spirit hungry for something like this?  We know; that’s why we’re writing it.  Check out Letters to the Universe: planning our escape in the meantime; it’s a refreshing breeze.  Kate and I also started it together.

 The show itself is pretty dang exciting, but wow, even the creation process has been a beautiful whirlwind. 

My Redbull can!  It had lived through -25F in Crested Butte a month before, so whatever I was experiencing now was colder than that.  I scraped the ice off the inside of my windshield and peered out at the day.  The sun was shining and the wind had stopped.  Ahhh.

Everything had frozen: my eggs, milk, olive oil, every drop of water I had, so I grabbed a few frozen oranges, stuffed my camera in a drybag, and headed off into the desert…

Sometimes I go on surprise solo-adventures.  They help me recharge, reconnect with the universe, gain perspective on life, and I get to see a lot of crazy parts of the world I might not get to otherwise.  I like to pack for pretty much anything, warm clothes, beach clothes, a bunch of food, a ton of toys, sometimes my passport.  I’ll throw everything in the car, tell the people I love that I’m going to disappear for awhile, and start driving.

This time I left Boulder on a –F day, and headed south.  I ended up in Great Sand Dunes Natl Park,  and was a greeted by a sign “Station Closed, have a nice stay.”  Even the rangers weren’t here on this extreme day.  I had the whole place to myself.

…and so I walked into the sand dunes; a place that is particular is meditative for me.

I shared some thoughts about it when I passed through 4 years ago.

This time I let the land do its work as I began to sink deeper in.  I was immediately struck by the amazing contrasts, textures, patters, and feeling of the place.  Slowly as the day progressed new worlds unfolded, miniature-worlds of ice and sand, mega-worlds of snowcapped peaks and soaring eagles, and everything in between.  I sustained myself on oranges and coconut macaroons as my feet took my across the dunes.  I stopped to take pictures often, careful to shelter my camera from the sand, and my hands from the freezing cold.

My mind quieted, for there was nothing to focus on in the desert.  Thoughts sailed by less and less frequently, and soon I began to feel the place, to hear it, smell it, to see tiny details I had missed before.  I found a miniature Fulgurite hidden in the sandy ripples; I tracked songbirds, desert mice, and beetles, and slowly filled in the rough spots of my being.

A storm came, covering the dunes in snow; still I walked, sat, breathed.  The sun started to set, bringing with it a last brilliance and a pair of sundogs.

The place was mine, no one for many miles.

Interestingly, I felt as if I was merely topping off an already full pitcher.  Life has been amazing recently, heart-opening, full of explorations, and deepening friendships.  This time I let the visit to the dunes be some time with an old friend, sitting a talking about life together, rather than sourcing healing power out of the sand.  It was nice to catch up, sit together, and get ready for the amazing journeys to come.

If you live in Colorado and have never been, this place is a must.

Here are some photos from my time there:

We were in the mountains above Boulder celebrating the winter solstice and a full lunar eclipse. It was a secret time after darkness ended, but before the lightness began to return, we gathered, shared, and played. Here is a great stop-motion of the event, taken by someone with a nice camera in a part of the world that was a bit clearer.

Winter Solstice Lunar Eclipse from William Castleman on Vimeo.

The winter solstice is a really special time for me. It marks the end, and the beginning, a time for reflection on what the last cycle has added to my life, and a moment of thought for what I’d like to bring to the next one.

Last year we used fire and air to set dreams free in the universe. This year we wrote on wood, and specifically a prAna block became a shared space for the desires and hardships of life. The masterpiece of our energies was burned during the eclipse, setting free the weighted energies of our lives.

I shared the night with my closest friends, people who I have grown to love, who have intertwined their lives with me deeply over the last year, people who make each day a jewel of ruckus beauty.

As the eclipse ended, the cars and people left. I sat on the hearth for a long time and watched the world return to full-moon glory. The fire warmed my back, the lights of Boulder smiled at me. I listened to the universe inside my heart, and smiled.

I am peaceful, strong, open, and ready.

I slept for an hour, woken by the shifting fire. I headed down the mountain to a BES meeting, a satellite measurement, and a date.

Life is moving beautifully.