Living in balance......

Think about the characteristics of a person that cause you to respect them. It could be their persistence, their reliability; durability, compassion, or any number of other descriptions which present an impression that sticks with you, and in turn creates the story of the person.


We all have a story. Some of us lead or have led simple lives, yet the real story is deep and complex. As we move from the cradle to the stone, we narrow our attention to not only what matters to us, but what has been reflected back from others as “a good trait.”

The things that cause us to keep on track and avoid wandering too far into the world of self-consumption (difficult to do when this centeredness tends to isolate us into making decisions that feed us and us only), is a narrow mirror of what others return to us as a positive or useful characteristic.

Even though this opinion of ourselves is driven by others, it none the less supports the argument that we are in fact social-creatures, relying upon the support of those impressions to keep from being eaten alive by our own self-need.

We need to give. It simply feels better than to take. In the end our lives need to be balanced. Think about it. He was thinking himself about how the Native Americans, once living on this land below his feet as he writes, considered this balanced living essential to move on to the after-life.

In recent hours he was struck by the words of another who knew his mother enough to use a term to describe her that was so eloquent and true…a description that reflected how before her end she had achieved this balance he speaks of.... living close to the ground...in touch with her own death..…she simply said….”your mother was an Indian.”


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When there's no wind......drift.

Regardless of your direction, or who accompanies you on the trip, the one thing that becomes evident as we age is that we all have to steer our own ship.


He often thinks of the days in his minds past, the last life so to speak, when he crossed the big waters by sailing vessel, spending weeks of the sun cycles over the bow, with nothing but the future in course and the past over the stern.

When we chart the start and the finish, we have what the thinking person would call, a plan. When we steer by the prevailing, we leave our path to fate, or chance. Both choices and methods have a place.

Take stock in the journey. As much as we prefer to think that those around us are mates on our boat, helping us to make the difficult choices, the bitter reality is that they are busy guiding themselves. We share the wind and run along sides for moments, days, years, often stopping inthe calm of port to enjoy each other’s intercourse. But then, in time, the wind picks up and we are guided out of the harbor, with little choice.

Stand straight and stiff into the wind, for as long as the legs will hold. There is much to learn and lives to live. After all, it’s later than we think.


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Drifting.....

Daydreams are like night dreams, but much more self-directed.  We continue keep the course of our lifes work, steady in our daily progress, yet often times the fuel needs to be summoned from a day dream.  He has had these daydreams since childhood.  Never a burden, at times a crutch, but always filling the soul from an opening in the window.....

Drifting, drifting, drifting away.

I got myself a mansion, then I gave it away.
It's not the world that's heavy, just the things that you save.
And I'm drifting, drifting away.


Drifting, drifting, drifting uh-huh
I rid myself of worries, and the worries were gone.
I only run when I want to and I sleep like a dog.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.


The suitcoats say, 'There is money to be made.'
They get so damn excited, nothing gets in their way
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.


Drifting, drifting, drifting, uh huh.
I feel like going back there, but never for long.
I sometimes wonder if they know that I'm gone.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.
Drifting, drifting along. Drifting, drifting along.

                 ............words and dream by Eddie Vedder


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Grey day........

Grey day. Even the squirrel, lounging out on the end of the Oak branch, looks glum.


Yet the mind wanders quickly to pierce this grey ceiling and surfaces in a cantina South of the Rio Grande. Far south. South of all the melancholy and wishful thinking, the plans, the new ideas, the failed attempts.

In the evening, just off the dusty road and day’s heat, under the cabana, you will find old happy men. Not happy as in jubilant or gay, but rather happy as in content with the world about them. Men with limited expectations and the comfort of the next breathe in a life they can reliably predict.

Easing the belly up and into their space, he makes the obligatory gesture which simply acknowledges no threat. A nod of the head constitutes opening statements. Oh, but he knows they are quietly curious. After a full beers time of adjustment to the pinprick to the cultural bubble, he initiates the exchange with a question, in his foolish but respectful attempt at their language. As pathetic as he sounds to these native Indians, he always does so with a smile in his eyes and a warm heart in his thoughts.

They laugh and smile and begin to engage him. These older men exhibit a childlike playfulness that is contagious. Sometimes they sing funny songs, other times they cry. It always seems to evolve into an indescribable exchange of human emotion.

He lies in his blanket on the next morning reliving the experience just hours before like a highschooler the day after attending his first wild party.

What a day ahead….nothing grey about it.


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Free at last.....

In tough times, free is a good thing. Often though, there are strings attached to free, which make it actually cost.

With his responsibilities behind him, and 4-5 days ahead, he took to the road in pursuit of that warm morning sun found on that stretch of isles called the Keys. He had a tent, gear, a cooler, cash, books, and time. He was racing the chill, and chasing the centerline.

Remember how it feels to have your white winter face absorb that warm morning sun, and the natural absence of shoes, as the sand scrapes your feet clean.

The energy flow when racing the latitudes against the clime is sublime. The flow is effortless as long as you have the right music and access to gas station food. For these two variables we all are unique. To him, the music was fuel, and the food just filled the gaps.

It was Christmas morning; he had been driving all night since tucking in his two bright lights, with sweet smiles, under momma's safe umbrella. Somewhere outside Nashville he pulled in for unmet needs. After navigating the empty station he arrived at the counter to exchange pleasantries and currency. The gap-toothed gent behind the counter, wishing he were home, spoke up first, “I got a Christmas deal for you buddy.” “Oh yeah, what's that,” he countered. “Dem dogs in the steam box are free” he exclaimed. “Free is good”, is all he could come up with.

On closer inspection, the hotdogs looked pretty gray. The grate had long stopped rotating, although the dogs still had a little sweat on em. “Free is free” after all.

It took till darn near The Macon-Dixon line before he started finding out how free can actually cost a fella. He has never liked Georgia since that fateful night of endless roadside squats. He eventually slept it off while parked on a side road. He woke mid morning in his bag full of chill. He had been sweating like a grey dog in a steam box.

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Even Tall Trees fall........

One by one they move on. Today he will attend the funeral of a friend. In actuality, it is the death of a father of a friend. But in that moment, when those that rocked the cradle cease to be, a part of us goes with them as well.


It was a neighborhood thing. Your street cred was only as strong as the family that sprung you. Brothers and sisters surround, but it is the old man that guides the ship. This old man had a mysterious sense of power in his eyes. Whereas he imagined that other fathers ran small businesses, or sat in corporate cubicles, or drove to nearby states selling paint or shoes, this old man was connected to something far larger. Even when we were young, he was considered “the godfather.”

Yet beyond the quiet closing and opening of cell doors, the onset of age and the subsequent arrival of disrupted mental and physical health, he had humor. People gravitated in the direction of his stories and his bellowed laughter. He was a man of grand vision and unlimited possibility. He was a man of the neighborhood.

Yet in the end, he was a man of limited time, and last Thursday, at 93 years of age, that time ticked, ticked, ticked, to a stop.




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Any man.........

Not every man is any man. Many men live in a world above the rest, if only in their minds and bank accounts. They never fear they will walk in the shoes of “those men.”


He was leaning against the wall of a commercial business, out of obvious sight, but with the world in view. It was a cool but sunny fall afternoon and he was thinking that if he was of the habit, it would be a classic smoker’s moment.

He could see the old man carefully stepping along behind the businesses attempting to appear a non-threat. His thick flannel hung loosely from his worn jeans, ball cap pulled down snugly against the breeze, and he carried a 5 gallon bucket with his left hand, allowing the right to pick up small items and discarding them, save for something of value or usefulness, which then was added to the contents of the prize bucket.

Like an animal the old man stopped and jerked his head in his direction, sensing he was being watched. He of course was still there, leaning against the wall, observing. The old man must have assumed the fella watching had some level of authority over this property because he quickly set the bucket down on the broken pavement and fell just short of raising his arms in surrender.

“How are ya today sir”, he offered. The old man looked pleasantly startled by the congenial salutation. The old man looked down in the bucket for a long moment and then raised his humbled eyes from under the ball cap and asked “things picked off the ground any mans?” “Yeah, he responded back to the old treasure hunter, “It was any mans, only now it’s yours.”

“Thank you kindly young man” the old man replied as he walked on, eyes to the ground. He continued to lean against the wall watching the old man search and find, all the while he was thinking that if he was of the habit, he would have offered the old man a smoke.

Any man would have done the same.



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Simply........think differently.

He is sort of stuck today thinking about how we use the past to form our expectations of the current moment, and the future as well. We often base our judgments of success on the experience we bring from a previous benchmark. Can we all really say that what has happened thus far has been so right?


Think of the moments in your life when you really sat back and reflected on a successful experience, or a real meaningful moment. Not just the feeling one gets driving a new car off the dealers lot, or when you finish mowing the grass, or when you find a $20 bill in the empty dryer at the laundry mat, but rather when you felt genuinely appreciated for your contribution.

No one will ever question the value of history and the reflection on learned experience. Yet, perhaps it is time to consider new ways of being, behaving, and engaging our world to nurture this evolving mindset that puts people ahead of personal gain. It will never happen you say? You’re convinced that humans are self-pleasing first and only consider others out of guilt or personal agenda. Perhaps that is true.

However, when you reflect back earlier on the most meaningful moments of your existence, you will discover that they will fall in the giving category more so than the taking. So why is our society, and certainly our economy, so geared to the accumulated gains from the taking as a measure of success?

Those individuals who have gravitated toward a varying degree of voluntary simplicity are finding new ways of engaging in their lives, and discovering new ways of measuring individual accomplishment. Those that still choose to cling to the past benchmarks of success may eventually be squeezed, due to natural economic pressures, to engage in in-voluntary simplicity, leaving the experience to be one of necessity rather than free choice.


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Headed South.....

The fact that it occurs annually does not diminish the grandeur of the event. As days grow shorter, highs mark lower, and the lows surprise us with white etchings on the windshield, we are reminded of the migrational pull to the South.

Year after year he performs the ritual autumn dance of preparation. It is the anticipation of relief from the chores of summer, and the acceptable use of hours for reading, dreaming, and stoking the coals of one’s inner self. This becomes a time to hole-up, let go, and use the darkness to our advantage.

Yet, by the emergence of the first New Year moon, warm climes and exotic culture seep in through the unconscious and surface in odd returning habits such as standing your backpack in the room corner and tossing random contents at it from time to time, as you watch the snow accumulate out the window.

Yes, it then will be time to hop the cartel grip, and re-enter the lands nearer the equator. Of course you will have spent hours of preparation researching the history, maps, weather, culture, natural features, languages, costs, travel options, and the acceptance of a couple of studious gringos in dark skinned lands. The latter rarely short of a pleasant surprise.

But that will be then, and now is here. Now calls for immersion in the death and dormancy of the natural world in these Midwestern latitudes. It would be hard to really anticipate and absorb the sprout of spring without staring down the annual death and silencing of the fall.

When the migration begins, he wishes to leave with it, but knows he must remain to kill off this year, and hope to be born into the next.

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Wood and nuts.....

There seems to be this obvious dilemma brewing in our society as of late. If we cannot support the overconsumption of throwaway products, and consensus of most agree that debt most be reduced, how then will this lack of purchasing effect the economy as a whole. Said another way, how will we recover if we cannot spend, as seemingly the economy has been supported or propped up for years by the no-limits consumer.


Seriously. Are stores going to close, companies fail? Are only the ones that offer quality products, that fulfill real needs, going to be the lone survivors? Will people pass up buying the new chain saw, and welcome the use and assistance of a neighbor? Will he then help that neighbor sealcoat his driveway in return? Yes.

The possessions we own that predate the plastic replacements from China will become more valuable as we are reluctant to buy new ones. We will care for them and maintain them more attentively, now knowing the costs and reduced value in tossing them to the growing landfill.

Perhaps you have not noticed. Many are in denial. Yet the structure of our society is changing right before our eyes. We are so fortunate to be able to witness now, what will be so commonplace in ten years. Look around. Pay attention.

By the way, do you have a chain saw that works? Winters coming and it is time to gather wood and nuts.


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Falling in.........

Meeting an old friend for coffee is usually an exercise in memory; that is, trying to remember where we left off in our lives during our last time together. Well, repeating stories just comes with age.

In between the updates describing the daily grind in digestible terms and stories, he uttered a most remarkable nuance. He simply stated that since our last visit he had fallen “completely in love” with a woman. These words, from a man who had rarely described anything remotely close to his love life, surfaced brightly and with great enthusiasm.

“Ahhhh…can you tell me more,” he asked. The friend responded quickly that he had nothing but respect, admiration, and a strong attraction, which did not resemble the physical attraction he had had for others in the past. He described the window through her eyes, literally a soulful tour, revealing a warm and loving woman.

The friend mentioned that the fact that she was Asian and spoke very little English did not seem to detract from the strong attraction. He was beaming with a glow that previously was either nonexistent, or just never shone through in any other circumstance they had found themselves in during the 25 years of friendship.

He could have just left good enough alone. He normally refrains from questions unless offered by his friend, but he could not help but ask, “So have you two been intimate yet, are you a physical as well as a soulful match.” And then he added, “Can I meet her sometime, my friend?” At that point he regretted asking the question.

“Well, he responded, I actually have not spoken to her yet. She works at a café where I get my coffee. I have been madly in love for 6 months now.”

He was in love with the idea.

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The wolf within......

We are beginning to now recognize how the last couple decades represent a clear example of human over consumption. We borrowed and bought beyond our means and the rules encouraged it. The imbalance of resources and demand has been out of balance for years now and the scary economic reality is common fodder around kitchen tables and across the bar stools in this country. It may be time that we summon up the “wolf” within us. The wolf is known most for its reliability to the community (pack), efficient and sustainable consumptive patterns, and a clear and consistent leadership structure.


A common debate in the environs of the western public lands surrounds the release of and subsequent hunting of wolves. In 1991 we finally agreed that the imbalance in the wilds of Yellowstone National Park in particular, was primarily the result of the systematic slaughter of the Gray Wolf. The reintroduction, though thoroughly contested, has been extremely successful in restoring the natural prey and predator relationship, and returning the “wildness” to these wild lands.

The conflict rages on as many wolves have been shot by ranchers protecting their livestock on lands bordering the massive park. Recently, a wolf that was collared and tracked for many years, a favorite of the rangers and naturalists, wolf 527, was shot dead after roaming beyond the invisible line.

Why does the wolf wander beyond the abundant hunting grounds, to its own demise? Perhaps these wolves, like humans, are not satisfied with having enough, and need to express the wildness that is controlled by property and fence lines. Perhaps enough is not enough? Why do so many of our leaders wander into unprotected areas to expose the apparent inner weakness, or wildness, which cannot be satisfied by having all their apparent needs satisfied?

The complexity of the psyche cannot be overemphasized. The wolf within us is real and requires expression at some point. One can only wonder if there is space enough for all of us to howl.


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On the edge......

A recent beer commercial shows friends in boats dropping rocks into the ocean continually in the same place, and to our surprise, they create an island on which to have their remote island party.

The idea of creating more land on this planet is of course unrealistic. They have tried to do this recently in the wealthy Mideast country of Dubai. This though also makes about as much sense as the illusion created by the beer advertisers. The reality, as we all know, is that there is a fixed amount, and even that is diminishing due to erosion, coupled with a future of rising coastal waters as a result of the evolving climate change.

When you stand on the coast at the western edge of the continent, you can be overwhelmed by the thought of all that you know is behind you, and the unknown limitless nature of the big water in front view. Your single being, without all the supportive landscape in sight, takes on a surreal sense of nothingness. The wind whips, and the salt air beckons, and the only thing keeping you grounded is the voice in your mind, convincing you that you matter.

Of course you do matter, at least to the framework you built around yourself since you emerged from water. The course of natural history may not have noticed you much, however when you defiantly occupy a piece of turf, accepting your limited influence, but beaming in the essential microbic and karmic inevitabilities, you are alive.

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Turn back the clock......

As much as he has tried, there is no going backwards. And why should he want to? Over there standing alone, quietly in the corner, is a life full of exploration, perspiration, and gentle skeletons. He recognizes intellectually that there is only what is ahead that should concern him, he nevertheless finds himself two steps south for every one stretching ahead. Or so it seems.


Reasons are simple and clear. As we age, our bodies begin to question the future mileage, our pocketbooks squirm for air, and all the while we are aware that moving about on the globe is becoming more complicated. Oh come now, stiffen your sail son!

There exists an understanding that runs deep in all humans. This clarity surfaces when we see others attempting to engage with life in a meaningful way. We all know, psychically and soulfully, that it is a good thing to challenge yourself and embrace the desire to move forward. Like an infant’s first crawl, away from that spot they have been stuck to, and toward what thus far has been out of reach.

In the same way that the first steps to the next room stir the spirit of the child, our exploration only needs to be as far as we are willing to see. Often this comes from a book, a film, or a walk through a new forest. Exotic tales of travel bore the rest of us. You are much more likely to grab our attention sharing an experience combing through the remnants of an abandoned farmhouse, then stills of you on the steps of the Cathedral of Notre’ Dame de Paris.

Open yourself up, listen up, and share with each other. This is the way forward. This will also return us to the splendid nuances of human existence.


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Under the masks.......

The truth is becoming apparent now that we look back. Think of the super batch of suburban boomers, wearing the acceptable masks of compliance, conformity, convention, and success. It’s what was looked for when you pulled up at your child’s friend’s home to pick up for a movie. It was the “badge” worn by driving the shiny new SUV and dressing well. The “successful” seal of approval from neighbors, bankers, and little league coaches.

OK, we understand that, now what? Well the “what” is beginning to resonate around this land as we are noticing that not everyone looks the same these days. The cars are looking as if we kept the clunker despite the cash, and the clothes have a more diverse mix that does not reveal quite so quickly as to the profession of the wearer. Suburbs are starting resemble the mix of the city. We just can’t pigeon hole like we used to, and the beneficiaries are all around us.

Why would people benefit from all this extra effort involved in decoding the social status of the individual standing before us? Because as you are determined to “mentally google” out the value of this random human, you are compelled to look deeper than the past symbols to satiate your curious nature. You will speak to them.

And through their eyes and words you will find your answer. They are just another son or daughter of another mother that is seeking the same as you. This was driven to his attention recently as he met a poor and destitute man, living on the low, trying to meet vary basic needs. After enough time to see between the lines, he thought, and with boredom seeping in, he started asking more penetrating questions, in a selfish attempt to entertain himself. He was awed to hear of his earlier life as a professional dancer in New York, and as a deep sea diver for a sea recovery team.

Knowing when to ask a question and how to respectfully listen to the answer is a lost but natural human skill. It surfaces when we get outside ourselves and engage one another with limited purpose or agenda. Just for the sake of looking under the mask and accepting what we find there.

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Time alone......

Silence. Most of us crave it. Some more than the rest. He searches it out from time to time. This entails not only lack of sounds and distractions, but also the contemplative and reflection that accompany time alone.

Those rare moments when no one is either giving you permission to be and think for yourself, or casting non-verbal judgment on your space. Like seeing a movie alone and walking out without having to form an opinion quickly for your companion, but rather the purity of absorbing the messages into yourself to simply add to your understanding of this planet and its inhabitants.

We cast our views for one of two reasons. Either we intend to define ourselves more clearly, or we truly desire to share our thoughts and opinions with those around us. Both objectives make sense, but the latter has real personal value. If we are able to share without judgment, then we have entered into a world of true companionship. This world is very freeing. Our true nature surfaces most notably when we are alone, yet is increasingly nourished and supported by those we include.

He is reminded of the day his father entered a nursing home and never left. With no physical ailments, he was incarcerated due to a mental dysfunction that otherwise would make his safety and that of others at risk. Or so we were told. More to point, he was given the entry level doses of psychotropic- a drug to make him more manageable. He never spoke coherently again.

On a good note, it could be argued that he no longer had to explain himself. He had a respected reputation as a thinker and doer, and now this circumstance would give him the time to really do some creative thinking. But like Chris McCandless discovered toward the end of his odyssey in Alaska, as described in Krakauers book, “into the Wild”, a life most valued is a life that is shared with others. Alive, contemplative, and reflective yes…..but not alone........hmmm........ then again?

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Small town wonders......

Over the last several decades one thing can be agreed upon, the human interaction gap has spanned, and the search for meaningful connection with one another is stretching to fill the void.

He remembers years ago when his brother had neighbors that came over unannounced too often to drink beer on the porch. Too often was replaced with the loss of those friends and the reflection of days and times gone away. For a long time now we have been living further apart physically and more important; emotionally. That may be changing, and as the plethora of individual resources diminish, the collective approach is looking more appealing.

In a small town in Iowa the last few days underscored this thought. A free guest pass at the old crumbling YMCA provided the backdrop for conversations in the sauna with the elders of the town. “Things eventually will return to the basics” the ex-mayor offered. “In what way” he queried. “Folks are remembering why we all live close by in a town, why we even have an economy, to pool our efforts together for the benefit of all the people” he replied. Another gentleman spoke up, “we rural folks have always used terms like cooperative, collective, and sustainable, to describe how we do things.”

Later, at the Whistle Stop Café, over cups of steaming hot coffee, conversations continued over similar lines. “We had green roofs many years ago in South Dakota, just made sense to insulate with natural materials back then” exclaimed on farmer when asked about alternatives to filling landfills with petroleum-based materials. The fella on the last stool chimed in, “Heck, we had water cisterns (equivalent of rain barrels) a long time ago to capture the rain water and reuse it, stead of wasting it.”

One thing they all agreed upon was the sense of reliance they have with one another. “No one will starve in this town, I guarantee ya” an older but stout woman stated proudly. And pride did seem to be the fundamental emotion running through them all. The fact that city folks are starting to gravitate toward more cooperative living only underscores the fact that nothing here is foreign to us. Humans have known how to get along and survive for a long time. Many of us just need to remember.

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This land.......

On the road today out to central Iowa. He is planning on connecting up in a meaningful way with a potential new client. And to do so he needs to log some miles chasing that stripe and hoping it leads to a few nuggets of gold, or even just a rainbow. There is something relaxing and revealing about this land we live on, this soil we share.

The Midwest in autumn is a rich time. Not a time of renewal as is saved for the Spring turnover, but equally important as a time of relief. Another chance to pull back and stop maintaining the mechanics of our lives, and simply winterize it all and hunker down for the north winds and eventual blowing snows.

Still time though for the hounds to roam the fields, kicking up a bird or two, in the frosty morning sun. These cooler days deserve much appreciation. This day makes him think of and keep singing that great Woody Guthrie battle song....that's right....."This land" is a cry out for our equal enjoyment of the heritage passed on to all of us....and owned by no one.



Read Woodys words...no really....read em'

As I was walking a ribbon of highway
I saw above me an endless skyway
I saw below me a golden valley
This land was made for you and me

I've roamed and rambled and I've followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me

The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me

As I was walkin' - I saw a sign there
And that sign said - no tress passin'
But on the other side .... it didn't say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!

In the squares of the city - In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office - I see my people
And some are grumblin' and some are wonderin'
If this land's still made for you and me.

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me


words by Woody Guthrie

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Once the sun rests......

In many urban areas in this country and abroad, once the sun rests, and darkness grips the street, a common trespasser lurks. Trespassing on the peace of mind of all those who enjoy an evening stroll.

One of the best opportunities to study a city or town is at night. These quieter moments, away from the daytime pulsation, offer the rare glimpses into the architectural alignment, the local culture permeating its storefronts, and gather perspective from the quiet parks and vistas. This can be robbed though by the trespassers.

This theft occurs most often in larger urban cities due to the desperation of unmet needs of too many of its residents. What is easily ignored during the daylight hours becomes bold and empowered while wrapped in the darkness. Street crime becomes the method to extract the serum for life from those that have to those that need.

However, he has noticed along the way that rural towns and villages, seemingly cut off from the raw nerves of the populations of great density, recognize need and take steps to fill the gaps, often allowing all their residents to sleep soundly at night. In these areas, where our attention is less likely to be diverted or distracted, we care.

Once we offer a hand, create options, and respect each of us regardless of one momentary circumstance, the evening stroll will return. Fear not.

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Good, luck, and evil?

It all depends on the lagging karma or forthcoming spirit you bring to each moment of travel. As much as the world is steeped in goodness, it harbors nearly as much evil.

By goodness he intends to imply those deeds and experiences by life loving folks with an agenda that begins and ends with the common good of all of us. And by evil he rejects consideration of some sinister underworld (though certainly real) and rather employs caution to the deeply self serving component of the species with little or no consciousness for others.

As we walk the streets and into the minds and hearts of our fellow humans we are reminded and encouraged to welcome it all, with little or no resistance, until, and only when our reasoning takes over and our survival requires flight. The purpose of this attempt is clear; any reluctance to engage our circumstances actually increase the negative energy around us, making us more vulnerable.

Fear is the main culprit. Fear of losing our money, safety, or sanity come to mind. Fear is to a certain extent natural, but to a greater extent it can be contrived. The cultural nuances, stories from other travelers, past experiences, all converge and conspire to rob you of the experience you deserve. One must be willing to listen to the gut (intuition) and overwhelm the fear with persistence and good spirit. This boundless spirit often deflects and neutralizes those with ill-wishes, causing them to steer clear as a result of their own fear. Fear of the living human spirit.

These unknown and random experiences can cause an unusual sense of euphoria. You may find yourself buying beers for your fellow companions. You may discover that you can sing. But with little doubt you will feel the goodness weaving its way through all of us. Our common language.

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Taken for a ride.....

Should we be taking this more seriously? Or perhaps then again we may be overly obsessive with it all. The “on-balance” theory would suggest some level of interest that inspires further review and encourages conversation, but stays south of forcing any issue.

“What you say?” The flow of information bombarding us for attention and providing just enough information of questionable reliability to spur the rumors and drive the ad-filled blogs to more clicks and views.

Take the family out in Colorado now accused of creating hysteria with their balloon chase and missing child. After the hoax became unraveled, we all looked for payback. We have been taken for a media ride of at least a week, and become distracted by a couple just trying to get their piece of the pie. How dare they act out? What gives them the right to step out of the drone line and behave much like Wall Street brokers, bankers, high paid athletes, celebrities, and the rest of the takers that fill our insatiable need for news of sorts each day?

While we all rant about how they should pay back the tax coffers, the ones who fill those coffers are blowing it right past our faces. We have been duped. Then again, if we don’t take it so seriously what happens? It continues. We are now in a strange time, one that requires us to avoid becoming overly consumed by it all, and at the same time trying to be actively engaged in our world.

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Looking back to get ahead......

He rode the rails southeast to the city and scuffled along with the other snails through the wind and rain falling from the sky and precipices above. Waiting for a meeting he sat sipping tea and drying out, while watching his fellow humans’ parade by the window. The pure density of humanity, all seeking their destination and serving the consumer gods, are a feast for the amateur social scientist in all of us.

How did it turn out like this? A mere 100 years ago the majority of us lived rural lives of self preservation. We have evolved if you will, into a herd that chases the available dollars, and tucks them away to spend on the things they tell us we need. What a strange evolution. To move from understanding our basic needs and focusing on attaining them for our families so as to spend our free time with folks whose needs and means were so similar, only to become one of the endless who stare into their handheld devices hoping to feel connected, or cared about. What happened?

When these concerns are deliberated it becomes so obvious that it cannot be reversed, or even stopped. The wheel is so big, and wired so well, filtering the vast majority of the wealth to so few, and leaving in its wake the evaporation of an American dream.

Whoa now you say! Let’s not become so gloomy. It’s true; there is more than hope for change. There is an incredible sense of consciousness growing among us. This emergence could not come at a more opportune moment. The sense of service and community is returning. This as you know is becoming a reality. The movement away from materialism and back to community (i.e. family, neighbor, colleague, teammate, teacher, student, boss, and employee) will be the saving of America. Overly optimistic you say now? Do not underestimate the power of ingenuity when driven by a cause beyond simply individual wealth. Think of a new hybrid form of capitalism.

As we evaluate our needs and realign our overly stuffed wants, those that make and bake for us will evolve as well. The large makers and bakers will become smaller and more localized. They will gravitate by the laws of economics to what makes sense and cents.

And to think that this was kick started back on a September day years ago by radicals outside our boundaries who described us as fat, lazy, and out of touch with the spiritual world. And then was beamed into our minds and hearts by the human greed that exposed the fragility of our economic system.

We are still trudging along the rain drenched city streets like ants in trench coats and hats for now, but there is a change brewing, and everybody knows it, and the makers and bakers fear it, and resist it. For now.

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A rippling effect.....

That last post makes him think of the words of the song playing during the intro to Midnight Cowboy......

"everybodies talkin at me...I can't hear a word their sayin'.....only the echos of my mind".....

No.... it's not that this is a lone go of things...that we ride the cradle to grave train as lonesome doves. Rather, it appears that the strength and vitality we gather from recognizing our own sail and paddle, provide the range, the vision, and the world view, to get outside our own needs and engage the needs of others.

When he feels the aches and pain of age, or the struggle of the current economic environment, both personal, and more broadly its effect on those close to him, he is reminded of those others, those without recognizable faces, who struggle with pain, fear, and fork to fork survival all the time. Perhaps we are gaining some much needed empathy.

Equally as important is the thought that once we accept our own direction, one rooted in acceptance and conviction, we become then able to engage, encourage, and contribute to others. Those same others we have been depending on and blaming all along. We simply exchange dependence and blame for acceptance and responsibility.

And from this we may gravitate to a stronger and more intimate local and universal community.

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No one to depend on....and no one to blame

Back from Oregon and a few thoughts are weaving through his mind.

No one to depend on.....and no one to blame.

This statement raises many questions. But what feelings take rise in you when you read it?......when it seeps in.

There are times when the the concept of dependence surfaces, upon the death of your last parent, or the failure of a business or job that provided a long enduring sense of identity. And then again, on a higher notch along the actualization totem pole, the removal of co-dependence can be uplifting, eh?

But dependability.....that sinks in deep. Because if and when we accept the idea that no one can be completely dependable, and in fact we are the only ones who we can completely depend on, good or bad...its all good. The balance of our relationships typically take off on a higher plane at that point, allowing us to really engage them, and enjoy the sweetness of the individual.

And yes.....blaming is a way to offset the fear of this personal discovery. When we fear that we may not "have what we need"....it only makes sense to blame something or someone other than our selves. The blame stops here.

Seems pretty simple really. We have this path we are moving about, often to slow for our liking, other times a bit out of control. We need to simply accept ourselves as the pilot, using our skills and traits to navigate the direction, knowing that the guidance and assistance provided by others is invaluable, yet undependable in its entirety, and never worthy or receptive of blame.

Buck up folks....life's a ride.

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Think....and then act.

It is not as though when we are reminded of the numerous weather related disasters on the rise around the world that we should expect a seismic mental shift in the modern thought construct. Folks are simply trying to get to the next weekend, like a safe zone in a children’s yard game. It is enough that we need to absorb the realities around us, but we need to also simply concentrate on our own drama. Are we losing patience with the larger picture? Understandably so.

When governments fail to anticipate and protect, private industry displays what we knew a long, that the profit motive generates plenty of very private motives. The jobs leave and the cohesion a community relied upon for a half a century has loosened, shifted, or evaporated altogether. The old heroes are dead or dying and the “we want to-be heroes” prove simply not to be. Understandably so.

The question moving about is asking what we can do to save our planet, build back up the pride of citizenship (both globally and from sea to shining sea), generate a sustainable living, and live a meaningful existence while we inhabit this space. He's thinking that beyond our sense of survivorship playing out currently, that most have these deeper questions weaving through the background. Understandably so.

His father used to say, “Think first, think again, then act.” This proves useful considering our developing circumstances. Before we can really commit to the changes that may eventually be required, we need to make a conscious shift to acknowledge a “limited” life. By limited he refers to the un-American concept of restricting our consumption, and accepting the reality that we live in a resource fixed planet. We cannot, and should not, “have it all.” This will become a reality one way or another. Our acceptance of this reality will be the beginning of the reconstruction. Understandably so.

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Winds.....and little changed.

The wind was weaving through the trees creating a rhythmic strumming that seemed to propel him at a swifter gate than normal. Those that know had advertised gale force winds for this day and he wanted to experience it firsthand. Walking along one of the higher ridges in the county he could see for miles and still could not see the wind. However, the invisible air was forcing the saplings sideways and their sources to sway. The gray sky hinted rain, but the wind was actually in control of this play.

This was certainly a unique piece of land. Unique now, though typical before, the land was a splendid example of northern Illinois at the turn of the last century. One of the reasons the tribes stayed here so long was the navigable waterways, boundless prairies, rolling hillsides staging countless oak trees, and the abundant game. This area had been preserved and looked as it did hundreds of years earlier. The moraines and kettles, roller coasting through the woodlands had been left by the scathing glaciers many thousands of year’s earlier. This he found very pleasing.

Stopping momentarily, he considers the comparison of this balanced system sustaining itself for so many years, and the interior of his own body. Both systems give and take requiring relatively little maintenance to sustain life. Yet, what makes each stand out is the spirit which flows through. A spirit, though difficult to describe, becomes so apparent when observed carefully at any given moment. The wind has lifted his spirit on this afternoon and he feels light, loose, and alive.

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Anticipation......

Anticipate. Making an attempt to live more fully in the moment seems to provide a greater ability to anticipate future actions.

This, he’s thinking, would not fall into the category of expectations, but rather say, anticipating that the next wet rock in the stream may have a slippery coating of moss, and with our anticipation we can avert a wet spill by our adjustment.

Seldom are moments more pleasing than those times when we can anticipate and chose our actions accordingly, stepping into the next moment more gracefully, and often with outcomes more in alignment with ….er…..the intention of the moment. By intention, it is meant to describe the natural flow of the living world around us.

We clearly have a role to play. It should not be assumed that we should simply “accept the moment.” He is thinking this as he watches squirrels fighting over the acorns, and deer pawing in the lawn to dig out the grub below the surface. Does the grub not have a destiny? Well of course, the natural order is unfolding as it must, you must be thinking. And you are correct.

However it is no different with our species. We have the uncanny ability to see events unfolding and to step in and divert pain and suffering in others, help others sidestep hardship, and steer joy. This seems to be most obvious when you are paying attention to the movements around as opposed to concentrating on your own needs.

It is understood that with your own needs ripe and vulnerable, it is useless to expect to be engaged enough in the world to really be able to “see” clearly. By either reducing your needs or stepping up your concentration level can bring you to the point where calm, competent, and anticipating clarity can emerge within.

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In the moment.....

A little stunned, but he remained calm, quiet, and still. She crept forward in steps, pausing between each as she surveyed the ground at her feet.

He had simply been walking for miles until the intensity of the rain moved him in under the natural umbrella of a leather leaf tree. He was reading….er….listening to a book read on his ipod and somewhat oblivious to sound, yet very aware of the rain, the woods, and the moment.

As he slumped down at the dry base of the tree his eyes became aware of the life occurring low and close to the ground. Everything around him seemed to be reacting favorably to the rain storm. Insects, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, and birds all scurried about attempting to make the most of the moisture.

It was then he saw her standing just across the trail and staring right at him. She was a beautiful white-tail that stood proudly and strangely calm as well. Almost intuitively he recalled his experiences hunting such an animal.. He tried to remain still, considering the wind direction and avoiding direct eye contact. Soon he realized that she was not frightened of him and for some unusual reason appeared to accept his place in the woods. She continued to eat the ground flora and stare at him curiously.

“Why not” he pondered. Why should he not be as much a part of this ecosystem as she is? This exchange went on far longer than can be expressed here. Eventually he rose; they bid their farewells and walked away in opposite directions. The rain had stopped and he could see streaks of sun piercing through the clouds and stabbing through the openings in the trees. He walked slower now and felt a little more connected.

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Creating value.....

What we do each day is attempt to create value. Value is defined here as an improvement: actions that increase the meaning or usefulness of a system, commodity, or resource. Value can also be discovered and increased in relationships, art, education, and personal development. Value can be collectively and objectively agreed upon as in a monetary appropriation, but ultimately resides in the subjective needs and desires of the individual.

For example, each morning we rise and tend to our needs and the needs of others. Typically we agree to perform certain tasks in exchange for a monetary denomination that we than can exchange for the things we need to sustain us (food, shelter, transportation, education, and in many cases love and intimacy). The motive behind this exchange often has more to do with accumulating the dollars than the original intention of creating value. We may have drifted away from the creation of intrinsic value, and shifted into an unconscious fear of not having enough dollars to provide our needs years from now. How did that happen? What of value are we still creating?

It has been discussed commonly over the last decade that our economy has shifted from a manufacturing (one of creation of goods) base, to a more service (providing convenience, organization, and expediency) economy. Most of what we need to sustain ourselves is created somewhere else, in another state, region or country.

One thought he has been mulling about in conjunction with locally produced products and services, as well as reducing the sense of “limitlessness” that we have grown accustomed to in the last few decades, is a way that we can once again begin to create value. However, the only stipulation in his thinking is that this value has to be completely created and utilized without the additional printing of more dollars (debt). That’s right……creating something without using dollars and being compensated fairly without using dollars. Just think of a day, week, or month where we do nothing but create value. Not dollars in our bank account, but rather actually create things that are perceived to have instant value, like a loaf of bread.

Suppose we create a local database of individuals. These individuals simply e-mail in their profession, and three skills they possess. The database is available to all on the internet. Services are exchanged, or bartered for (a very old but resilient concept), and as homes are painted and vegetable produce exchanged, as cars are fixed and homes are weatherized, as wood is split and stacked, and art is completed and books are written, and fitness is instructed and conflicts are resolved, as engineering is designed, and counseling provided, as bread is baked and plays are staged, no dollars are printed at the Treasury in Washington or exchanged. We will instantly begin to increase the value of our country and systematically reduce our debt.

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One moment at a time......

"I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration; I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a person is humanized or de-humanized. If we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming.
~ Goethe

Something about these words by Goethe both resonates and infuriate. On the one hand it makes one feel not only a significant contributor to everyday actions and reactions, part of the cause driving the effect, but also responsible for the same. It is if we are asked to recognize our mutual investment in any given moment……are we equally invested in the input of a given moment and then by logic an owner of the outcome? Or, is this chance, destiny, or fate thing so many speak of really writing the script and we are just playing out what ever role (mood) we happen to be in at that moment?

Please….read it again.

If it were true…..then perhaps the real difference in our direction as individuals and collectively is driven by the ability (and ability is emphasized here) to transcend only our emotional output (which can be selfish and needy) and combine it with some grit- something resembling intelligence, empathy, assertive reality sharing, and highest on the list- the true reflection of our values. These values are not the ones that get shoved aside when our needs are not met, but rather the ones we know are true but we fail to exercise because of fear of personal loss; be it financial (a big fear for this writer), social, or a combination of the two, which is to say, conformity. Fear of standing out…..on a limb so to speak.

Just what is he talking about? Agreed, it is certainly difficult to put truths into words as a result of the complexity of soulful, intellectual, emotional, and external realities. For example, why is it that so many in our culture believe (have faith) in a god (and all the power that goes with it) , yet so few really speak of the deity on a daily basis? Certainly they do so in other cultures. And why do we understand the concepts of “good” yet are so drawn to the dark? The answer has to be in our will….our choice. We have a choice as to how we will be in our minds, hearts, and in our exchange with the external world. We have a choice. That choice has power. Your next moment awaits your contribution to it.

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Out walking.....

There is something very revealing about walking. Of all the ways we propel our bodies forward on this planet, walking appears to him to attach us most closely to the earth itself. In addition, there is rarely a hurry in walking, as most walk is at relatively the same pace, reducing competition often found while running, or anxiety often associated with taxis, plane flights, or bus rides.

He has read and heard that the most enjoyable gate to strive for is an amble (to walk slowly or leisurely; stroll). This gate allows for consistent movement, along with introspection, reflection, observation, and interaction the with surroundings. This seems awkward at first, as the tendency is to attempt to complete the walk as timely as possible. It’s just our modern way. But not necessarily the way.

No, this is certainly more Zen-like than we may be accustomed. After all, who has time for this anyway? He might argue the point that we should make time, but that simply forces the action into a schedule, diminishing the value considerably. He notices this same conflict when he catches himself counting steps, or marking time and distance, difficult to avoid, but distinguished clearly once overcome.

It seems there is such value in the repetition of mind and movement. The reoccurring empty thought, coupled with the graceful decision-free step. When the limits of the mind subside, it seems the boundless consciousness awakes, and the body agrees. Capability is far more than the anxious, fearful mind is accustomed to acknowledging.

He remembers hiking up a long deep canyon with his brothers and father, on a warm sun baked Texas afternoon. Upon finally returning to camp, shade and beer, the sons took ample time to wipe the sweat and calm the heart rate, and return to a normal state of being. He looked up at the “old man,” still standing with no noticeable change in his physical stature since before the hike.

He later learned that one of the symptoms of oncoming dementia is the minds shutting down of messages to the body. In essence, our bodies are capable of so much more, if we tune out the stress, and tune in our presence to this moment, and the next step forward.

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On the Road....#28

On the road to somewhere he exited an old mountain town in Colorado, driving his brother’s beat up Dodge Charger. Next town to avoid would be Aspen, on his way southwest. Early afternoon and his cares in the trunk, he drove. Usually woman hitch hikers are heavy, old, or scary looking. She defied all the odds, standing for a ride, no thumbing required. He stopped.

Conversation was light, if at all. She knew the game, and she refused to reveal her inner brilliance to justify her obviously beautiful exterior. Like 1969 GTO, candy apple red, there was no need to rev the block.

Eventually though his music choices loosened the puzzle and they started to ramble. Over the road she shared stories of her life in Aspen, confirming that he would be stopping at the tinsel town now anyway. But his eyes shined for her. She was careful not to shine back, though he was in denial of this fact at the time.

As they pulled into the star haven he realized that he would stay at her place, or move on, as camping in these hotels was above his pay grade. She said OK……… OK! They stopped at a friendly place to eat and drink beers. She was an artist. She made things from clay, as in pottery. Her boyfriend was a musician. Ohhhh,uggggh.

Her place was a small reflection of herself, simple and tasteful. Now, with all their self secrets revealed, things became very light, airy, and fun. She played music and entertained him with amazing stories. He tried to reciprocate, but he was younger and less experienced in life.

Suddenly the door opened and Raphael appeared, as was bound to happen at some point. He was cool. Very cool. They spoke for a long while. Then, as their bedroom door shut, he unrolled his bag behind the couch on the floor and slept it off. When they awoke in the morning, he was gone already, leaving only a note of gratitude.

Note to self: Good people.......there are many good people.

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On the Road....#27

When he walks in the woods he “ambles”, implying a slow and leisurely gate. But they were in a Jeep of sorts, actually a Chevy, no matter. Point is, they were ambling up this gradual slope, along a trail lined with pines. Each time they came to a fork in the trail they would alternate between the left fork or the right. They were moving at less than five miles an hour (an art to keep steady) , listening to tunes, hanging out the window for views of the mountains and sky, popping tops for refreshment, and enjoying all aspects of hiking, without the boot tread wear.

This is British Columbia. And it took a while to like it, too much Limey influence in the “Pubs” for their liking. But the wilderness- that was plentiful, and awesome. They spent the better part of the day just getting them as lost as possible in this sign less land. Eventually though they stumbled on gold, perfect in every way.

The river was loud and though they could not yet see it, they knew the Lillooet would be grand. Hiking back now on feet for the first time all day, they found the source of the commotion, a large frothy river, bordered by rocks the size of cars. It did not take them long, though the sounds prohibited vocal communication, to discover steam streaming up from between the rocks. Further inspection proved splendid indeed- hot spring pools for soaking. Aaahhhhh!

Like L & C upon discovering the Columbia, they rejoiced, and camped for a few days. In the evening soak they propped candles along the rocks, looked up at the moon filled sky, and listened to the roar of the river, just a few feet away. The two brother's would have stayed longer but they grew weary of seeing each others naked body, and vowed to return someday with an alternative gender.

Very little talking, very Zen.

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Rain......

Rain. He can always remember the rain, and how it has added or subtracted from various experiences. When you’re high and dry, it matters not. When you’re too dry, it matters most. When you’re trying to stay dry, it can be a long night.

He had been instructed to sleep on the ground, in his bag, and under a single 5’x8’ tarp. The Boy Scouts insist on these experiences for obvious reasons. Not obvious to him at the time though. Impending rain caused him to apply serious thought to the idea of a trench around his bag. On a slope, just a few feet from the lakes edge, it would serve to channel the rainwater away from him, and to the lake, where it belonged. So he got up while others slept and utilized his folding scout shovel to do just that. After, he slid down in his bag, secure in his water diversion plan.

He first woke to the large intermittent raindrops on the tarpaulin. No worries. As the rain became more consistent, and then begin to increase in intensity, he peeked out to see how the diversion trench was performing. It was then he thought that a dike or berm around him might have worked better. So far so good anyway.

After a couple hours of downpour he awoke to a strange sensation. He felt like he was floating. Now he could hear other scouts rumbling around and complaining, and finally he stuck his head out of his tightly synched bag, to find a surprise. The trench had filled in and his sleeping area had become a detention area filled with water. He literally could have drowned in the six inches of water that was now floating his sleeping bag.

Rather than appear ill-planned, he just decided to roll out of his little lake on to the ground nearby and just sleep in the rain, like a real boy scout. So in the dark of night he rolled over a couple more times until he felt solid ground, albeit momentarily. Suddenly he heard a splash and realized that he had rolled and slid into the actual lake.

After struggling for a couple minutes to get out of that soaked bag, he just stood there knee deep in the lake, in the steady rain, and started to laugh.

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