Finding My Way Home

Riff-Raff at the Birdcage, photo of a photo 2010

Finding My Way Home

The following is a newly updated version of the preface to my book that used to be called Climbing the Switchbacks to Heaven. The book itself is nearing completion of the first draft and will soon be in for some serious editing. If this process is anything like the editing of films where 25 minutes will be cut down to 4 to 8 minutes of video, then were in for a wild ride. Currently the project has 365 pages. Time will tell if I will be able to stay present enough to get it done.

Preface

It’s March 5^th 2011 and I am back at Rob Bird’s place in Dalton Massachusetts for the night. Life’s events brought me here for some reflection and I found it to be a very welcoming, heartwarming place; it’s a lot like being home, but there are less distractions. Rob came home a few minutes after I arrived and we exchanged hellos with a familial hug. He has very much become my Trail Dad. Being here brings back many memories of the trail and the people who have been part of my trail experience. Telling stories here reminds me of why this book needs to be written. We spoke at the kitchen table with cigarette smoke hovering around us and drinking coffee for about an hour before moving to the living room for some much needed R & R.

The first thing I did when I walked in was open the photo album labeled “Family” that he has on his kitchen table. This is one of the little “icing on the cake” things that really separates Rob’s Birdcage from the other hostels and friendlies on the trail. The pages are lined with photos of every hiker that has visited and stayed at least one night in the past year. Each of us who were photographed leave a note with name, address and sometimes even a phone number, as well as a thank you note to Rob capturing our experience here. All the smiles and little notes are uplifting in and of themselves. His walls are also wallpapered with photos, pencil drawings and remembrances of those who left a piece of their heart as they continued their adventures. I am grateful to be able to share more time and my experiences with him.

We talked about who we’ve seen and heard from and caught up on the whereabouts of those we knew in common and sharing stories of some that the other may have never met. The room was filled with laughter as I recounted some of the trials of hiking, especially through Maine. We both enjoyed the discussion of river fords, which included Deadman’s death defying acrobatic fallen tree tight rope “walk” in the dark, my moment of clarity and anger, and how Stud-muffin and Dry Clean had to swim across the same river hours later because of the torrential down pour. 

We remembered people, personalities and classic trail moments. It is really the perfect setting for writing this. There’s a post-it note on the refrigerator where I scribed “RIFF-RAFF!” months ago along with the post-its of others. It is a cozy place and begs me to write about it. In the living room framed just above the couch is an actual white blaze painted on tree bark from a tree that had fallen on the trail. If these walls could talk; I can only imagine the laughter, the tears, the heart-ache, and joy they would be able to share. This is a place of love, of understanding, and of hope. An approximate 45-50 days from Katahdin, nestled in the small trail town, it is the epitome of Trail Magic.

I realize today that there are many more stories that will never be told of others’ experiences and the time they spent doing something that I consider an amazing feat; that many start, some never finish, and others still are either too comfortable or imprisoned by life that they never even consider or attempt it. The Appalachian Trail is more than a national historic trail; it is a place where a certain type of history is written. In a sense it lives and breathes as we do. Words are etched on the hearts of those who dare. They take with them feelings of warmth and comfort and a feeling of success, accomplishment and an “I can” attitude. Our walk teaches us many things and one lesson that reverberates in my head daily is that “the Trail will provide” in that you can’t always get what you want, but you do get what you need.

Ironically, this feeling is one of the feelings that have lead me to the discovery of and the understanding of what I understand to be what the Buddha meant when talked about creating our own suffering. How by living in the past or future and by forming attachments to people and things we feel sorrow or loss, again and again. Walking the path has given me a glimpse through the narrow doorway that is the present moment. It wasn’t until my monkey mind had exhausted itself, that I found some quiet and solace. It has been the long journey since that has helped me to understand better how that peace came to be in my life. Finding it is one thing. Understanding it and being able to foster it and “step behind the waterfall” in other areas of our lives is a completely different undertaking.    

We become familiar with “Springer Fever”, a condition where 2,000 milers suffer through a feeling of longing and emptiness while they daydream of a return to the Trail each spring as their start date anniversary approaches; a condition that many hear about and few will ever truly understand. It is probably best likened to the feeling of love lost and how we associate sights, smells and sounds with loved ones who were the “the good friends we lost along the way.” Bob Marley continues to sing “in this great future you can’t forget your past”. We, the individuals who worked day in and day out towards the goal of reaching the summit of Katahdin by way of the “approach trail” to Baxter, understand the value of each painstaking step. We understand what each represents and will not forget. This feeling is more than a feeling of loss, it is the embodiment of “Don’t be sad that it’s over, smile because it happened.” It is no coincidence that this is what the sign over the door here at the Birdcage reads.

After having completed the journey, I feel like maybe I ate the blue pill. Can I ever return to society and live a life of normalcy? Where will my heart take me next? What am I to do with this “sickness”? Is there a cure? “More cow bell” won’t do it, I’m sure. I hope that writing about this adventure does more than help to fill the gap in my life. I hope it inspires others to find a way to fill their own.

May these pages reach out and touch the souls of those who need the inspiration to take the first step. For those who have it, I hope these pages will help to alleviate the symptoms of “Springer Fever” and reinvigorate your soul. And for those of you who are willing to accept your reality; maybe you are sitting in a cubicle at work, maybe you have a family to support, maybe you are still in school, maybe you are a dreamer, or maybe you are just a tiny part of the herd each morning on the expressway going out to pasture; maybe you feel stuck, maybe you are reading this to live vicariously through me; I hope you find what you are looking for, but I hope you understand that whatever you choose in life it won’t be easy, but make sure whatever you choose, that it is worth it! Get out there and make your life something to write about. Go out there and do something great! “Peace be the journey.”    

Practice?

 We often use the word practice when we associate ourselves with meditation. People sometimes say things like "In my meditation practice I discovered" or "I have been practicing meditation for several years". 

In music, or sports, we also use the term practice. As a kid I might have said,"I need a ride to soccer practice" or my mother might have said, "Hurry up, we're going to be late to soccer practice." It stands to reason that when we practice something, we learn and subsequently use repetitively the skills necessary to improve our ability to play. 

The soccer game is played. The musical instrument is played. I have hardly ever called using a musical instrument practice. Maybe I should have practiced more when I was in band class, but then I had this bashfulness about how loudly the horrible sounds coming from the trumpet were. I prefer to just pick up my guitar and play. Even if I am just strumming a single new chord or picking through a new scale, I just call it playing. Playing is fun. Practice sounds gruling. in college sometimes we would have doubles. Sometimes if we had a bad game where effort was lacking our coach would make us run ladders which would give us a bad taste for practice. Or learning to trap the ball by softly recurving it with our knee or chest, and we would do so over and over and over until our body was bruised and sore. We would subject ourselves to the repetitive nature of learning to improve our abilities and these skills would then help us when we played in the next game. So, one question that comes to mind here is, "Why don't we play life?" Or maybe we do. Let's take a look. 

First what is playing really?When we are kids, we go outside to play with our friends. Sometimes there are rules to the games we play like Red Rover or Red Light Green Light and sometimes we just dig in the dirt or climb trees or roll down the hill in the yard. Sometimes we play board games, and other times we find ourselves playing bored games. And if we do play a bored game, then we are no longer bored because now we have an activity. 

Here is an example. When we were in elementary school our mother decided to take us on a road trip with our pop up camper towed behind an old Chevy station wagon. It took us several days to go from NY to FL with myriad misadventures and challenges. The engine overheated and we needed to get towed and repaired and then one of the tires went flat, and the fuel filter clogged, but that's a separate story. The point I want to make about the road trip is that we had these road games to play. One game was to count the different state license plates that we observed and we kept a list with tallies for each out of state plate. Sometimes we would look for the alphabet on road signs, places of business, cars and even on the different license plates. Someone would see the letter A and they would say the letter and where they saw it. I see A in the word Carolina, B on the Buick passing us on the left, C Carolina again, D on the license plate on that Chevy and so on and so forth. We would occupy our minds to help pass the time so that we wouldn't fight in the back seat. We knew that our minds had a tendency to wander around or stir up emotions and then someone would complain about the heat or the window being open or closed and then we would argue about who was going to write the Mad Libs etc. 

Anyway, these days boredom is something that sedom occurs in life. If I am not happy with my current activity in the moment I choose to find something to do. I am not worrying about being in the next moment, so there isn't any anticipation or angst that goes with that. Sometimes I still think about the past and sometimes I think, how did I get to this thought by trying to connect the thoughts backwards, to observe the oddities of my mind, but as I meditate more, I find less of this happening which is actually a relief.

Well, maybe meditation is practice for life? And I am not really saying that life is game, but maybe I am saying that it is; just a little. Nope. Scratch that. Meditation is life. And, it helps us get really good at living.

In meditation we note our thinking. When we sit, we notice the thinking and observe that the monkey mind is doing that thing again. Sometimes we analyze it and maybe thinking about our thinking is the beginning, but it's still thinking. So, sometimes I play the game, "How long can I keep my mind blank?" This is hard because once you think to count the seconds the mind is no longer blank so there's a difficulty in keeping track. One good way to get rid of the racing mind or the thinking mind is to narrow your focus. We all only have so much attention so if we use that attention to feel, or to sense, we have less of it to devote to words being played across the strings in our brains. And while some of those words are beautiful and melodic, most of them are like a beginner screeching the bow across the violin.

Here is an example of focus: while you are sitting there reading this, "How often has your mind wandered? Are you focused on the words on the page? Or, are you immersed fully in this blog? Did you wonder if you left the coffee pot on? Have you thought, this is a waste of time? Sure this Vanagoonies fella is just ranting away again, but maybe there's a point? Is he going to get there? The more you narrow your focus on reading and understanding the words, the less you are aware of the color of the page. It's the same way with breathing. The more you focus your attention on each natural breath, feeling the air rush into your nostrils, or the pressure building inside your lungs, or the rising and falling of your chest or the feeling of pressure on your butt as you sit on that seat, the less attention you have left for your mind to run away with your thoughts. You stop telling yourself the stories you create about the people around you. You stop telling yourself the stories about yourself. You stop blaming yourself. You stop shoulding all over yourself. And eventually you just stop. Stop everything and just be. Be what you are. Be human, but also be being. 

Sometimes we're all so busy living and we forget to live like we're dying and that's what life really is about. Dying. We're all going to die and we never know when. So die a good death. Die a well lived life. Live a life that is worthy of death. Make your life matter. Be. Experience. Breathe and pay attention to each breath as it comes and goes. Feel. Touch. Taste. I mean, fully taste. Savor the details of the coffee in your cup. Don't just slam it and run. Smell. Is that a flower? Is that something burning? Mmmmm bacon. Be curious. See. Immerse yourself in your surroundings. Look at nature. Look at the leaves. See the clouds. Live. Be. Be alive for while you are living, you will be able to be. Whatever changes death brings, may they Be also. 

Namaste

Life and Death

      We all have been given life. Some argue that it is a gift. A precious gift given by our creator, or our parents. By proxy we have also been given death. One can't exist without the other. An inescapable fact. All who have been given life have also been given the gift of death. "Mom. Dad. Thank you for giving me death." 

     I bet that sounded weird when you read it. But really, truly, believe it. For without death, life loses most of it's flavor. Imagine if you will that you have just been given a death sentence. Maybe you have been wrongfully convicted of a crime you didn't commit. How does this make you feel? What didn't you do that you would have liked? Or imagine that you just left the doctor's office and he shared with you the news that you have terminal pancreatic cancer. Does your attitude towards your hopes and dreams change? In what way? 

      If life had a flavor, how does it taste to you? Is it sweet, are you sour about it, or does it leave a bitter taste in your mouth? So many questions, I know, but I have another one for you. Have you ever heard of the Vinegar Tasters? 

      It's an old painting depicting the three wise men of ancient eastern philosophies; Confucius, Buddha and Lao-Tze. Each man tastes the vinegar which is representative of life. The way they experience the flavor of the vinegar in the vat is akin to the predominant way in which they view the world in which we live. 

      Confucius tastes the vinegar and he makes a sour face. He sees the world as a place that needs governance with rules and regulations aimed towards righteousness. Doing the right thing was an important aspect in his teachings. I see this philosophy similarly to the way I picture the superego as explained by Freud. He is the officer who plays a critical and moralizing role as our egos construct their crafty solutions. 

     Confucius is also said to be the author of the "Silver Rule" which is, "Do NOT do to others that which you would NOT want done to you." Simply stated, it is the inverse of the "Golden Rule." 

     Next we look at the Buddhist philosophy that believes in life there is suffering. Therefore, when Sidartha tastes the vinegar he makes a bitter face. He teaches that our attachments to life and to things are cause for this suffering, and the student is to recognize the suffering in life that arises with our cravings for, and our attachment to things and to others. These, as a matter of course can be overcome by renouncing or letting go, and then meditatively following the Eightfold Path which will lead eventually to enlightenment and Nirvana. 

     Lao-Tze samples the vinegar and he smiles at the taste of it. His philosophy looks at life and sees it as "perfect when its in the fundamentally natural state." He tastes the vinegar, recognizes it as vinegar and is happy that it is vinegar he is tasting. It shouldn't be any other way and to him, life sure is sweet! 

      The Taoist aim is to live a life that is in harmony with the Source of everything and to follow The Way or Tao. This is accomplished by becoming one with, or by being in tune with, the "rhythms of the natural world." 

     Take action, but do so without your self, or egoic mind, getting in the way. This is known as wu wei and is a concept of effortless action that resonates and feels like and is comparable to being in a flow state. 

      Taoists plug into the Source. They begin each day, each task and each moment, as the uncarved block, or p'u, and go effortlessly where the flow takes them. Ironically, this section has been difficult to write. It is as though I am trying too hard to convey the simplicity of these concepts instead of being at peace with the process of writing and just allowing it to happen. It should be as simple as, "I sat to write. Words are being written. And I am only the conduit for the words that the muse or the Source would have me convey." I likely wasn't plugged all the way in. 

      And so, life, however it tastes to you, might be seen as the mother of death. For when one is born, we know for sure that they will certainly die. This understanding, this truth, that we will all face death is of great importance to us. Not for the purpose of feeling guilt or shame for what we have done, or feel that we could have done better. Not for the purpose of living in fear of what hell fire and brimstone might be next. Not for the purpose of eventually dining at the great hall of Valhalla. Not to make a life of selling snake oil to others who aim to live forever or who want to hold on to their youth. Not for the Al Bundy's of the world who peaked in highschool and want to be vampires walking the earth as the living dead for eternity to escape the one basic truth that is inescapable; death. 

      Being timebound, we take a deeper look, if we are willing, at what it is we want our lives to be. It's difficult to go inside and look at what it is we really want out of life when there are myriad distractions. There are a few defense mechanism of our monkey mind too. Our minds believe themselves to be of the utmost importance and they do not go quietly. 

     One is for us is to get busy, distractedly busy, just running around haphazard like a chicken, while being so consumed with errands and worry that there is no time for quiet meditation. I am too busy! I have so much to do! I can't do that with my life. Goals? What are they. My goal is to get through the day. There's always something to worry about and to do. I haven't any time. 

      Another way that our mind takes control is to immerse oneself into knowing but not for the sake of learning or study. For the know-it-all, this immersion is a distraction so they can tell others how much they know. It makes them feel useful and good. They are an important person to go to and they "know" the answers. Think of brainy Smurf, or Scuttle who is always like "this is this and that is that." 

      Other people still are too plugged in to the news or sports, or politics to be plugged into the source. They instead cling to the cheering on of their sports teams, their political heros and enemies, political talking points, and spend their time watching sportscenter, the news or propaganda spewing TV personalities. You hear them complaining about defeat or the prices of gasoline and how hard their struggles in life are. 

     A different and not completely daoist way of looking at time is that it is also a key factor in our setting of goals. I will be able to do 45 push ups by my 45th birthday. I will travel to all 50 states before I turn 50. You see, having an unlimited amount of time causes us to say "Someday I will" or "One day I would like to" instead of making that day, become today. The "making of time" for the things most important to us happens because we understand that our lives are time bound. 

      Ah yes, time. That precious gift we have that is represented by the dash on our tombstones. That little speck of being that lasted for a blip on a cosmic timescale that you know as your all important self. What we do with it is our choice. Do we sit home watching the news or our favorite programs night after night? Do we overeat because we struggle with the anxiety we face each day? What demons from your past are you still fighting with today? Are you worried about the future and what could happen, but probably never will? Maybe. I say probably. Today is a gift, so stay present. 

      How do we do that? I'm glad you asked. We do this by having a meditation practice. Oh no, not that! Don't make me quiet my mind! That's so hard to do. I don't want to focus on or listen to the noise inside my head. Here's a fact jack. You're mind is going to keep going on and on and on until you decide to do something about it. It believes that everything it thinks is important. That voice has kept you alive and has helped you to get through school and work. It has kept you up at night too. It also helped you make your way through a fight in a relationship. And it's also that crafty little sucker that got you in that mess in the first place! And here's the rub, you can't force him to stop chatting you up. He will pop back up and say, see how good you are at this in a sarcastic tone. And then there's the objections. "You don't understand! My childhood was terrible. My parents were always fighting and my uncle molested me. My loved one died and we had so many plans. Life after loss is impossible! You want me to sit down and listen to my streaming mind? No thank you! I'd rather stream Netflix!" 

     Yes. And no. Yes I want you to sit and I want your thoughts to continue. But no, I don't want you to listen. I want you to step behind the waterfall of thoughts rushing constantly in your head and just recognize it. Bring those thoughts to the present moment and call it what it is. Make a quiet note in the back of your mind. "Thinking." Maybe open your eyes and look at something natural. See the blades of grass, look at a flower, or maybe touch something soft like a leaf. Or pick up a rock or a shell and hold it in your hand. Just feel it without judgement. Make little notes of it. Smooth. Rough. Cool. Feel how it fits in your hand. Nicely. As if it was meant to be picked up. This is the present moment. You're in it. 

     No judgement. That's the ego talking. "This is stupid" he says. "You need me." No. You don't. Just focus on your breathing. Feel the air rushing in through your nostrils. The air that brings life to your cells. The air, that without it, you would certainly die. Breathe it out. Feel your belly sink and then rise again with your next breath. 

     Now say this with me as you breathe. "May I be happy." Breathe in. "May I be healthy." Breathe out. "May I be safe." Breathe in. Now repeat... When you are finished, continue on with your day and feel the difference a few minutes can make. 

Namaste

      

The Wedge

It was an incredible late spring day and the weekend had finally arrived. The final push through the school year was in full force and William, or Billy as his friends referred to him, was fed up with school and he hated having to study and do homework. He couldn't wait to spend the summer days riding his bike around town without a care in the world. The salt and sand had been swept from the roads so he had already dusted off his skateboard, and his rollerblades had also been put to use. The days were getting longer and evenings could be spent playing roller hockey, which helped all the kids let off some steam. As the stresses of schools and and exams continued to build, there weren't enough outlets and everyone was a little on edge. Billy would find himself sitting in his math class staring out the window daydreaming about the complete freedom of summer. That was what he yearned for. He looked forward to swimming in the lakes, jumping off of cliffs, swinging on rope swings, and most of all he couldn't wait to see all the young women in their bikini tops and those tiny little cut off blue jean shorts with the pockets hanging down lower than the fraying ends. He had already been smoking dope with his friends. Never in anyone's house, but in back yards, or on the local hiking trails. They would often end up doing bong hits on top of the local mountain. You could sense that Billy was getting excited for those hot summer nights. For years he had heard so much about the keg parties that the older kids would throw. Eventually he learned to be crafty enough so he could actually attend them. The go to eventually became asking if he could sleep over at Singer's place. Mrs. Singer, well, she was an interesting old biddy, a widow in some sense of the word, but her husband had died after their divorce. She slept soundly with a fan in her widow and always had this machine making white noise for her. She even had one of those masks to put over her eyes to keep all the light from her eyes. Sometimes the boys would stay up late and they would sneak through the house playing tag games and hide and go seek in the dark. They learned through time where the squeeky boards were and used all of their senses to find each other and keep themselves from being found. Sometimes they even snuck down the stairs into the basement to play ping pong, but after they were given the chance to sleep in the big room, the rules changed in their heads forever. See, instead of sleeping in Isaac's room which was across the hall from Mrs. Singers room, the boys were on the complete opposite side of the house which had given them even more freedom. The big glass sliding door was easy to open and it could be slid open and shut without any worry making much noise at all. The boys would set up the blankets and pillows to make it look like they were sleeping soundly, and then they would slip out the door disappearing into the night. The decoys we're likely unnecessary as it's not known how often Mrs. Singer would come to check on them, if she even came to check at all. But precautions were taken none the less. What if she had wanted a midnight snack from the kitchen or what if she wanted a glass of water? "You can never be too careful." His favorite parties were the ones that were either deep in the woods with a bonfire or down by the lake where the ropeswing hung from the gnarled oak. Both had their advantages, but the down side to the parties with fires was the need for extra clothes and keeping the smokey smelling clothes hidden from their parents. William was looking forward to kicking a hacky sac, listening to loud music, and even playing volleyball at the beach. But most of all he couldn't wait to show off the muscles he had been working so hard to build. Last winter, when Christmas had rolled around the only gifts he had wanted were for body building. He asked for a weight bench, a barbell, some dumbbells and a few plates. You see, last fall, William had anticipated one of the best nights of his life, but it turned instead, into one that had scarred him deeply. Let's explore that night together, shall we? Halloween had always been Billy's favorite holiday. From a young age he was taught to never take candy from strangers, and rightfully so. If a grown adult lures a child somewhere with candy, most likely they are up to no good. The sinister acts committed by such people could be the very thing that cuts a person's soul in half. The fact that this holiday celebrated an act so close to such potentially damaging and heinous crimes was so ironic, almost to the point of ridiculous, that he fell in love with it. He loved the idea of people wearing costumes and he always put a lot of effort and energy into designing his. This year in particular he wanted to be powerful, everliving and dark. Being a smaller kid, he had taken his lumps while cutting his teeth in the suburbs. He would have wished he could be big had he been given the chance by the mighty Zoltan. He wasn't the smallest teenager, but he definitely hadn't finished his growth spurt. Puberty had begun as evidenced by his desire to see half naked women, and the awkward buldge he often found pressing against his zipper. Adolescence hadn't given him the acne to warrant a pizza face comment, but it also hadn't gifted him broad shoulders or much by way of facial hair. Some might have said he looked like there was some dirt on his lip. It was unfortunate because these features also gave the bullies something to squawk about. "Nice mustache Billy. Did you get that look from your mom?" One of the bully kids named Andrew chirped at him as he walked by in the hallway. You see, Billy was smaller, but he wasn't the smallest. He also wanted to be accepted by the older crew, so he took the hell anyone gave him to appear tough. Basically he would just take it on the chin most days. A few times a month he would end up with black and blue arms from someone wanting to go punch for punch with him. But try as he could to earn the respect he likely deserved, the Leaders wouldn't have it. The local crew of misfits and pot smoking dirtbags had hazed Billy for about a year now. Wasn't his tenure over yet? Why didn't they start picking on someone else yet? What were they waiting for? He also wondered, "Did they even like me?" The Leaders hadn't considered it . There hadn't been much talk on subjects of hazing or how to deal with outsiders joining their gang yet. These were still the early days. Supposing as long it was still fun, they were apt to continue in their ruthless ways. There was that one night outside at the Baker's residence when Jon Baker really got him good though. Billy was off guard because he was involved in a deep stoner conversation. "Have you ever wondered how deep a hole you can actually dig with a shovel" Paulie asked. "Like how far down can you dig until you get stopped completely by some kind of metal or rock? Or how far can I dig before I get tired" asked Billy. "I hadn't thought about it too much. Maybe how far can you dig before the walls cave in on you and you get buried alive." Billy, was passing the joint back. "Here." he said holding in his hit. He breathed out the thick cloud of smoke and his reply was interrupted with a few poorly placed coughs. "Oh man, ahummmm kahumm, being buried alive ckchm has to be so kahem terrible. Whoof. And then if you open your mouth to scream it will fill up with dirt and worm poop." The conversation trailed along in the unusual way they often do. Jon took his hit in turn and hadn't said much the whole time as he had a plot brewing that had kept him distracted. Nobody took notice, but he was a little antsy and had trouble standing still. Then, Jonesy chimed in from across the patio, behind Billy. "I'll bet it's only like 5 feet max," he said. When Billy swung around to say how ridiculous 5 feet was as an answer, Jon sprung into action. It was only for only a moment, but a moment was all he needed. JB wasted no time at all. From under his one short leg, he whipped out his pecker, he stopped doing the peepee dance and let it rip right down the back of Billy's legs. "Shaboygen!" He screamed. Billy jumped away, "You asshole! What the fuck!? Man!" the Baker's laughed and laughed. "Got ya! Rules is rules fucker!" "I'm gonna get you for this!" Billy screamed as he stormed off to get rinsed and changed at home. But that shameful act didn't end his hazing. The hilarity of it only made the Leaders press harder. Now let's get back to that night at the Halloween party shall we. The party had been talked about for several weeks leading up to it and the odds were good that pretty much anyone who's anyone would be there. Over the hill along the pipeline, 50 yards from the outer edge of old miss Lansing's corn field, there were a few glacial eratics scattered about. Some of the neighborhood kids built a few forts with sticks and logs giving it a bit of a "spooky squatters live here" kind of look. It was actually a pretty cool place with a couple small fire pits, rocks to climb on and sit on and it was a good ten minute walk to get there from any direction. Off to the left was even one area with an old fence remnant that offered pretty decent privacy. The girls would often go behind it in small groups to pee while one of them acted as lookout. Some of the older folks in town would refer to the place as the elephant rocks, but most of the highschool knew it as the Villiage. Earlier that evening, Billy had only one thing in his mind. Tonight, he would approach the girl he had been crushing on and ask her out. He had noticed her looking at him a few times, and they talked a few times in the courtyard at school, but he always chickened out. She giggled at one of his dumb jokes and he thought, "She will be mine. One day... Actually soon." Little did he know when he got dressed after his shower, that wearing nice new clean underwear would cause him great pain. When he got dressed to go out that night he had in mind cleanliness and tidyness to impress the women. He hadn't considered the cans of shaving cream, or the eggs, at all. He was single minded and focused. Actually it wasn't all women he wanted to impress, there was only one woman in particular. Julie Jensen. She was definitely above average in looks but to him, she was the most beautiful, the most incredible goddess to ever Grace the world. To Billy, when she walked, it was as if she was floating like an angel. His hands would get clammy and his voice would crack whenever she was around. He had hoped she wouldn't notice how foolish he felt. "Girls like confidence." He repeated the advice his older brother Danny had once given him. That night he kept dreaming up the courage to go talk to her. What should he say? What would she say? Words. What words? He paced awkwardly around and it took him a long time to get the courage, some of which was liquid, but eventually he took off his black blazer and handed it to Singer. Then he said the famous last words "Hold my beer." Then he walked right up to her. His hair was slicked back, his bright white fangs contrasted the black silk shirt he got from the thrift store. He had painted some blood dripping down from the corners of his mouth. "Julie" he said, and she turned to look at him. Her deep blue eyes shined in the firelight. Meanwhile the Leaders were across the yard looking on and Paulie was calling a play by play. "He's going in. He's really going. Would ya look at the balls on this kid?"... These days were still the early days, they were way back before William ever learned about wool socks. These were the days when grabbing a pair of socks from the drawer was a little bit of a gamble. Will these socks suffice or is today the day they give up? Will they be chokers or the quitters? Or is today the day that they both show their ugly head and the whole elastic band separates from the bottom of the sock? Cheap cotton and spandex materials were used to make these under garments. The stocking stuffers and Christmas gifts given by grandma the prior year. And after almost a full year of use and abuse... They might be on the verge of failure as early as the first day of school. Even the tighty whiteys had their limits. Some days it was important to dress with the appropriate attire and even busted old underwear with shitty elastic bands had their time to shine. But today, today William proudly unpackaged a new pair of underwear. A pair that he had been saving since last Christmas, for a special occasion. "Ya don't want to be caught dead in a dirty pair of shit stained underwear." More of his older brother's wisdom echoed in his head. He looked at Julie studying her face. Even her imperfections added to her beauty. Her crooked smile, the slight imperfection in her teeth, her one little freckle, they all enhanced her beauty. She was so angelic to him that it was almost as if she was floating on a cloud in front of him. He had to look up at her even though he was standing on his toes. Her eyes were the deepest blue. Bluer than the Pacific ocean off the coast of Big Sur California. He was mesmerized by them. He cleared his throat. He reached out to take her by the hand. She was a little taken back by it. "I want to suck your blood." He blurted awkwardly. "I mean, will you be with me... Forever." He hadn't gotten all of his stupid words out of his mouth when he felt himself being hoisted into the air by the seat of his pants. Andrew had taken notice of the little twerp and saw an opportunity he couldn't pass up. The elastic band of Billy's brand new Hanes was showing in the moonlight. He grabbed a fistfull of it and lifted little Will right off the ground. He pitched forward a bit and Julie jumped back. He kicked and flailed his arms and his legs but it was all for naught. Andrew raised and lowered him. He shook him up and down till he looked like a puppet being played by a marionette. A high pitched noise bellowed from deep inside and it echoed through the night. It was a howl like that of a dying wolf. "Let him go!" Julie shouted. "Leave the poor kid alone." She said. She had good intentions but her words stung worse than the underwear crammed up his ass. "Poor kid." His heart sank. He had no fight left in him. He dangled lifelessly in mid air, while Andrew carried him like a suitcase across the way to the "ladies room." The entire Village erupted with laughter as Andy lifted with all his might. Billy was thrust high into the sky until he hung lifeless from the fence post. He looked like he'd been crucified. Tears mixed in his with make-up. His hair was a mess. One kid shot him with shaving cream and then another. Then an egg came flying from across the way and hit him in the chest. He cried. Then he sobbed. How was he such a pussy? And when it was all over Singer wasn't even strong enough to get him down. The humiliation. Singer plead for help. "Can someone please help me!?" The Baker's had seen enough. They grabbed Jonesy and together the three of them set little Billy free.

The end.

In the beginning... Let's be real here. Do we really truly know where the beginning is? When was it? And what about the end? We have all of these guesses about the end. Religions have created stories to tell the end. Science has its version of the end of our nearest star in the sky. It will expand before it shrinks and everything that exists on the earth will be consumed in the fireball. Will humans still exist? Hopefully they get off this space rock by then. Scientists also have different versions of how the planet could cease to be a place that harbors advanced life, and they have hypotheses about how long cockroaches will stick around after we're gone. They know how the world as we know it will end but will it really be over? Whatever it becomes, it's still going to be a part of the story. And where in time did it begin and was there something before that? And if there was something prior then wasn't it the beginning? One thing that I do know is that it didn't begin with me. I suppose it could have, but the lives of others who have lived before me, before us, they tell us otherwise. As for the end of life? Well just because people pass away, doesn't mean they never existed. And if they did exist, then they will always be a part of the story. They were in it and so they still are in it. They leave their mark. Think first of some of the historical figures from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. From Genghis Khan to Socrates and from Joan of arc to Beethoven.

Even the most insignificant life is impactful to the ones around it. A woman has a child and it's a still birth, or she has a child and it dies of sudden death syndrome after a few months of living and breathing and eating and pooping. Even a miscarriage or an abortion will cause grief and pain that can be difficult. The families mourn. The doctors feel each loss. The midwives built relationships with the families and they too feel the losses. Those short lives, made ripples. And the ripples continue out with no end and no shore to stop them. There is no end for them that I can foresee, there's just a continuence. Those lives didn't end. Your life doesn't end. My life too, doesn't end. The people I have met along the way and the thoughts they have and the memories they have are all a continuence of me. My friends, my ex wife, my childhood friends, the people I randomly meet at a hot spring in idaho. They take something from our encounter. Even if they just had to alter their course to get around my belongings, or even my body, their life was changed. Then, to add another layer, try to see everything as though it is happening now. Because all of it is. All of it. Everything is in every moment if you stop to look deeply enough at it. The ever changing river or the ever changing mountain is always there. Even before it was a river the makings of a river were there. And after the stream dries up, it's part of the story of what was and what comes next. If the mountains crumble and fall, they will have been a part of the story of the things that come next. Let's say the rubble falls as a rock slide and dams the river creating a lake. The lake becomes a habitat for fish, they grow big and strong and the birds of prey swoop through the sky, and perch on the trees eating their catch. They make a mess and some fish pieces fall to the ground. Something else eats the scraps. The food becomes poop and the poop feeds the plants and something eats the plants. This can go on forever. Oh, right... it does! Back to the mountain... When did it form? Was it a volcanic intrusion? A tectonic collision? Before either there were layers of sediment and organic matter that accumulated slowly over the centuries, one year at a time. Then the crust of the earth quaked and the plates shifted. If it was a volcano the magma formed deep below the surface of the earth and then after it flows and cools new land is created. Then when we drive along the striated layers of rock on the side of the mountain we can see that some layers are 400 million years old and then another layer is only 280 million years old. The mountain wouldn't be what it is without each layer. Each of those layers formed eons ago and sometimes they formed under and ocean and then fossils from sea creatures are found 5000 feet above sea level. Now let's take a closer look at the river that runs down the side of the mountain into the valley that eventually twists and turns it's way to the ocean. Where did the water come from? Was it once a giant glacier slowly carving a deep U shaped valley? How much sediment does it carry each year from the mountainside while carving itself deeper and deeper into the landscape. Is it not as much the mountain as it is the rain that falls and the snow that fell several years ago? And isn't the rain as much the clouds above as it is the oceans that evaporated and later cooled and condensed? Where does the river actually begin? Is it in that mountaintop glacial lake? Or isn't the beginning actually the same ocean that it ends in? What would it be if it hadnt been evaporated by the heat from the sun? Maybe the river actually starts in the sun. Where did the molecules of Hydrogen and Oxygen come from? Was the beginning of the river actually the first water molecule? Somewhere in space the star dust... No. Wait... before the star could become dust it had to be a star and before it was a star it was gas and dust... But, how did the first hydrogen atom come to be? As you can see the beginning isn't easily defined. In the beginning of this life each of us was born. But are we not made of genetic material passed down to us from our parents and from their parents before them? If any of your ancestors hadn't lived until they procreated what would have come of your family tree? Which cell in your body was the first one to form? Is it not already dead long ago? How is it that you have been made small and have grown into a larger being? Didn't each and every cell that created your life die several times over by now? So when do we actually die if ever? Don't our cells and our flesh become something else? Just as the river becomes rain and the rain becomes the river. Will we not also become what we were before? And what exactly was it that we were? If our bodies are burnt into ash and burried into the ground, if a tree grows in that spot are we not the tree? When the eagle eats the fish is it not made up of the fish that it just ate? Is the birth of the fish any less important than the birth of the eagle? What would the eagle be had it not consumed all that it has? Seeing the eagle as the bird it presents as in the present moment is one way to see it. Can you not see the bugs that the fish ate or the blood that the mosquitoes needed to sustain life before they were swallowed by the dragon fly that was swallowed by the fish that lept from the water before it was snatched in the eagles talons? When we see the oak tree in the acorn we begin to understand that the acorn is more than just the genetic material of the tree that dropped it. Understand that it is also the sunlight and the rain and the organic material it grows in. If the sunlight didn't reach the place to warm the soil and the rain didn't fall and the soil wasn't fertile enough the tree wouldn't exist. And how about that family of squirrels nesting in the branches? Are they not a part of the trees story? Are they not part of the tree? Had the squirrel not buried the acorn, maybe the tree wouldn't have ever found the other requirements for it to live? A continuence is all there can ever be. It's always and forever and it's also now. Stay present and live in it. (Sorry about the odd photo dump, this blogger app is not that great. It gives me problems and I am learning to deal with it.)

Fearlessly

 When we sit idle there are at least two main factors that keep us in place. We are either paralyzed by fear of the unknown, or we are paralyzed by choice. Yes, having limitless options can cause inaction. Interestingly, some folks with schizophrenia actually believe that if they move the effects of their movement will be damaging to themselves or others in the world around them, so they become statue-like, frozen in time. I suppose there can actually be truth to this in the same way that the butterfly who flaps its wings can cause a tsunami on the other side of the world, but this is not a reason to sit and watch from the sidelines. The law of unintended consequences is always at work and it is out of our control. You might also remember that "life is just a ride" so enjoy "the thrills and spills." 

"Dignity" Statue

Welcome- with open arms

On the other hand, having limitless options can also cause inaction too. Do we go North, South, East or West? The compass rose is just a tool and it doesn't care. Do we hike? Read? Bike? Swim? Head out to a climbing gym or find a good spot for bouldering? The activities we choose are also impartial. Prioritizing our needs is important, but once they are met the big question is, "What do we do?"

It is also important to reflect on the Zen teaching of the old man and his son who have only one prized possession. The attitude of the old man is not one of expectation, but he keeps a steady attitude of "we'll see." He demonstrates the importance of allowing and not labeling events as good or bad. To him things just are.

Remember when the horse runs off, the townspeople say, "What bad luck they had!" And the old man says, "We'll see." Then when their horse comes back to their corrall with several wild horses by its side a few days later they all say, "How fortunate!" And the old man continues to say, "We'll see." 

For him life just is. When we see events as good or bad then we have expectations. We may also become attached to the ideas and even the good or bad feelings. It's not that we shouldn't experience the feelings associated with the hills and the valleys. We should. We should also know that "this too shall pass." The feelings we associate with "good" and "bad" are just states of being. They come like waves and wash over us and yes we have to feel them, but we also have to let them go.

Give me a quarter
I will tell you you're fortune.

Think about the lottery winners who jump up and down with excitement only to have their lives ruined in the near future by excessive spending, lack of self control and even drug use.

Consider also how Rocky goes from rags to riches and back to rags. When he wins his first reaction is not "I'm RICH!" (It's also not "I'm Rick James bitch!") With his face bludgeoned and his body barely able to stand, he mustered enough energy to scream out, "Yo, Adrian! I did it!" His focus was on his love for his wife and he screams joyfully of his triumph. 

Later in the saga when Pauly loses all of Rocky's riches, his first reaction is disbelief, disapointment and then despair and anger as he grieves this loss. He does continue his grieving journey into acceptance but also comes to understand that among the most important things in life are health and relationships. These pieces of the wealth equation were also threatened. 

We have to embrace the fact that we won't be happy all the time. We won't be sad all the time either. And we won't be angry all the time. And we won't be disappointed all the time. Or heartbroken. Or anxious. Or anything really. We won't even be fearful or fearless all the time. One thing we should do is fearlessly walk on. 

"When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high

And don't be afraid of the dark

At the end of the storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind

Walk on through the rain

Though your dreams be tossed and blown

Walk on, walk on

With hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone

You'll never walk alone!"

You see, life is choices and action. So, when you find yourself in a small airplane cruising at 14,000 feet with the roll-top door ajar, it was likely a choice or two that got you there. When you're staring down at the earth below with your feet at the edge, you can't hesitate. Paralysis and inaction won't do you any good. You just have to move your hips and step out face first into the rushing air, kick your legs back and enjoy the ride. 

When the chute opens and the rushing of the air is interrupted by the flapping of the material that slows your descent, be sure to have stayed present throughout the entire experience. These are not moments that you would want to miss. The feeling of free falling is not like any you have had before. The ground is so far below you that you can not imagine ever coming in contact with it and there aren't any other objects rushing by to give you visual cues for speed. You can only feel the rushing of the air past your outstretched limbs and the rippling of your clothes as they flap fervently.

 

Chutes coming down

When you land, sliding in safely on your bum, there is an abundance of joy that penetrates your being. The adrenaline associated with the entire process keeps you elevated for quite some time. There is a gratitude that fills your soul. Fully experience all of it. The moments will be gone in a flash.

When we touch down on the earth, it gives us great pleasure. We are back home; back on the soil that provides nourishment to our bodies and our minds. We take a second to feel the grass with our hands. We press down with our hands and feel the firm ground below before we get up. We feel the gratitude rush through each cell. We are alive!

This leads us to the idea of touching and physically feeling. We can feel hardness, softness, smoothness, pressure and temperature. Touching something too hot we pull away. Touching something sharp or pointy, we might experience pain. Can there be more to touching things than just physical sensation? What if we touch things with intent? What about touching things in the emotional realm? We can also feel a transfer of energy. Think about your last loving embrace, a simple hug. Can you feel more than the physical sensations? Next think about anger and make a fist and clench your teeth. Can you feel the difference? 

Lush green Earth
At the Effigy Mounds

To continue this exercise, take a minute and step outside. Reach your hand down and touch the earth, preferably a grassy patch. Open your palm completely and press your hand flat on the ground. How does it feel? Cool? Hot? Wet? Soft? Now with that same hand, give the earth a loving touch. Close your eyes and press your hand into it. Think of love. Be grateful for the planet and all of its treasures. Can you feel a difference? 

We also find comfort in that which is familiar. Gravity keeps us here. We feel the weight of our body as pressure. When we sit to meditate we can focus on the sensations and feel ourselves sitting. Most of the time we are comfortably sitting there and it feels good to be on the cushion. When we find ourselves in an uncomfortable position we often don't hesitate to shift just a little. So why are we so hesitant to change other areas of our life that cause us discomfort? Do you ever feel like you are stuck in a rut? Has life been meloncholy? What is keeping you there?

For years I found myself connected to a seasonal life where I had a shitty boss, a bully of a man who cared only for money. He was often angry and held mysogynistic and racist attitudes. He also micromanaged each and every aspect of his life which meant there was much of my work life that was under his intense scrutiny. 

I can remember back to my first day working with him. I was sitting in the passenger seat in the cab of his truck, sitting on my hands so I wouldn't touch anything. His attitude in general made it so that I didn't want to make a mistake. I was taking it all in, learning the basics and the nuances of the job. I was on my best behavior, I called him sir and thanked him for the opportunity at the end of the day. No red flags just yet. 

Then, part way through the first week he made a phone call to the office. The young woman he had working there made a stupid mistake (again) and it cost him a few dollars. His blood boiled as he screamed at her for being so mindless. His face turned red, his veins were visible and I thought he would have a cardiac arrest he was so mad. When he hung up the phone, he threw it into the windshield and broke both the phone and the glass. I sat in silence. Anxious to say or do anything. Eventually he looked at me and said in a surprisingly calm voice, "Is it me?" I did not respond.

I stayed at that job for many reasons. At first I really just needed the money. Then when summer came and he said, see ya in the fall, I was elated that I had such an opportunity to enjoy having summers off again. (Having formerly been a teacher I was a bit spoiled.) Then when he helped me pay for my CDL I felt a sense of duty and obligation. It became a cycle. An exchange of slavery for several months to pay for my freedom. Each summer I would grow fonder of the adventures I was having. I was hooked and eventually it became a bond of servitude. "Suck it up, it's worth it" I would say at the end of each day, week, and season. 

As our relationship grew he took more jabs at me and I joined his team belittling myself to ease the pressure of his bullying. We had several blowouts along the way and eventually our struggles came to a head and on a fine February morning. I decided that I had had enough. We had a discussion about some of the struggles we were having and I suggested that I spend some time driving instead of riding with him. He got angry and told me how disappointed he was and how he had offered me a great opportunity to potentially become a partner, or even take over the company one day and said that I didn't want it. What actually happened was that he offered to send me to school to learn burner service, which would diversify my income stream. Certainly there would be a lot of sacrifice which would include waking up in the middle of the night for emergency service, only to get back in the truck the next day. No rest for the weary, but, there was also great potential for an increase in income. Imagine eventually being a part owner and possibly making over $100k or maybe even $200k in the future if we played our cards right. 

After processing and analyzing all of this, a decision was made. The conclusion was drawn that a lifetime of working with or for this man wasn't worth making all those thousands of dollars. Why be berated and beaten down on a daily basis? Why endure being micromanaged? Why continue to struggle through life for the barely livable wage he was offering at the present time for potential future gains? No! I was done walking on this hamster wheel. It was time to go.

At the second stop of the day, I let him know I wouldn't endure it any longer. He threatened to blacklist me and told me I wouldn't be able to work in town ever again. His last words to me as I grabbed my snack bag to begin the long journey back to the office on foot were, "Have a nice life!" I thought a lot about that sarcastic wish for me over the next couple hours. "A nice life." Hmmm... That sounded really good. One with hiking, biking, climbing, and swimming. One with health and well being, quality relationships... integrity. I don't mind if I do. 

 Another thing we learned for sure on that journey was that we would never go back. Walking 5 miles in work boots through town on a brisk winter day is a great way to cement that fact. It is true that "Goonies never say die" but they also keep moving forward. They never go back. Never. 

What ever would I do? I have been at a cross roads before. I have seen all my hard work go up in smoke. It's true. And somehow we always pick ourselves up and dust off the dirt. We reinvent ourselves. It's all we can do sometimes. Have faith that it will work out. It will. "Things are always working out for me." They have to. If I had learned anything hiking the trail it was that "The Trail will provide." Even if "you can't always get what you want, you get what you need."

So let's fast forward. Where am I today? Well, I am not lost and I have some maps. I have a few ideas on how to survive. Life doesn't cost very much. I mean, it's gas and food for the most part.  I'm sure there will be struggles that lie ahead, but for right now, I am taking it one day at a time. Shouldn't we all?

One gig lead to another and somehow I ventured into the everglades where I happened upon a couple fellas wearing some bug netting over their heads and some galoshes. They told me they were going to go hunt for pythons, so I asked, "How do you do that!?"

It didn't take long for my research to discover the simplicity of it all. Apparently a bright flashlight and your bare hands are all that is required! Unfortunately there are rules and regulations and the folks involved wouldn't allow me to join them, not even as a volunteer. The snakes often can be found at night and hunters shine bright lights from their vehicles as they slowly drive around searching for their unmistakable pattern in the grass. Then they jump on the snakes like the croc hunter. "Crikey!"  

Cottonmouth?

Apparently once you spot a snake you just grab it by the back of the head and try to not get bit. The hunters will kill em with a high powered pellet gun, and bag em up. They record the data, size and location etc and submit the information to receive payment. Interesting job eh? One fella said it was more like an expensive hobby, but maybe he was trying to deter me from becoming his competition? Let me tell you, there has to be a better way to make a buck! 

I still decided to give it a college try by myself, unlicensed, unregulated and unencumbered. I figured I probably wouldn't even catch one if the opportunity presented itself, but it might be fun to do a little searching. Ya never know what you might find if you're looking for it, right? 

A decision was made to head into the park on my bike with a headlamp on and a flashlight in my hand. Something compelled me to just go out into the alligator filled, starry, balmy, mosquito infested, moonlit night. Python hunting is fun, but your eyes do get tired and every stick and shadow that you see eventually becomes a snake.

I know life gives us lessons. I don't know where I am headed, but I am seeking. Searching is good. I am shining the light. I like being open to what the universe has to offer and am yielding to the flow. Having faith is important and holding on to hope is too. I have my eyes peeled as I venture onward. It's not that I am looking for snakes, but I am looking out for them. Our goal is to be more mindful of red flags as well as the green ones. We don't know when a caution flag will be displayed or when the ultimate checkered flag will be waved. We should all aim to run the race with integrity and with passion. 

My advice: Don't sit on the sidelines. Just jump. I did. "The nets unbreakable so don't worry about falling." I wish you all the very best. 

We've gotta go back!

We've gotta go back! Or maybe we don't. Sometimes the compass direction changes. Sometimes the world asks you to be back east and when that happens, there's the potential for a shift. Instead of counting the miles up, maybe we start counting them down. It's almost as though we've been building up the adventure to a crescendo and maybe there's supposed to be some kind of climax before there's a bit of falling action and a conclusion. And, while maybe this was true in the past, it seems as though with growth and experience there is an accumulation of knowledge and maybe even some wisdom? Wise? Me? I doubt it. 

In order to make sense of this blog, I offer you another important piece to the puzzle that is life. We as human beings, are time travelers. You see unlike trees that are place holders, animals are free to move about through time. We can change our location and we have even invented ways to "improve" our ability to get to different places, except we always have to pay for it ... and the price is Time. 

But what is Time really?

We can look at it in several ways ... 1) As a period in time 2) As period of time, or 3) to confuse things even more, we can see that time is just a space holder similar to the trees. 

An example of a period in time could be the 1800's. A period of time could be 4 to 6 months. And if we realize that time is only a space holder we can use the power in this realization and make "Time" actually stand still. 

To continue on with this thread, let's see through the lense of a period in time that was less than 200 years ago. Using our imagination we could envision people riding across the country in covered wagons. We could see them with pots and pans clanging, clothing tattered and worn, eaten by mosquitoes, and probably caked in a layer of dusty dirt. We would see folks that were suffering from the loss of loved ones who may have died of dysentery, drowned in a river or maybe they'd been killed by an indigenous tribe. We could imagine their sunburnt skin, the broken wheels, the smelly oxen, the incessant bouncing, the icy cold nights with campfires to keep warm and worried husband's and father's sleeping with rifles on their laps. With danger, illness, and death lurking around every corner, they would navigate foreign terrain through grassy plains and over steep mountains.

Back in that time, folks traveled the Oregon Trail for about 5 months in search of a better life or maybe to run from a shittier one. They followed the ruts carved into the earth by other oxen drawn carts. Folks would literally pack up their lives, sell off their land, and buy or build some wagons so they could take the months long journey across the rugged terrain and Tribal lands. Often plagued by illness, injuries, and death, some would succumb to the perils and others would find peace in the movement and the chaos of it all. Sometimes folks would stumble upon an enterprising idea. For example, maybe someone should build a boat and start a ferry service, or maybe someone should stay and create an outpost for other folks to utilize as they made their way west. And in this way, a variety of communities were established along the "Trail." 

If we look at the idea of Time as a space holder, we might see that the folks who lived in the moment fared better in it and through it . To help paint a picture of time let's look again at one of those place holding trees. Outside of the Blue mountains there once stood a lone pine tree for many years. The fur traders, the indigenous people, and pioneers could recognize their location as the tree could be seen from miles around. Judging by its size in the distance across the vast prairie land, they would know how far they had traveled or how much farther they would have to go. Then one day, a human decided that he was going cut the lone pine down.

I don't tell this story to paint the picture of an outlaw with whom I do not agree, but to simply show that without the tree, there isn't any anticipation. And when anticipation of waiting or the counting of time is cut off, then only the moment is left.

Keeping with the idea of time travel, when one heads east, the clocks are pushed forward an hour every couple hundred miles or so. So in going back, it's as if you step into the future, but it's also headed toward the past in that the sun has already set over the land in front of you. The crazy thing is this...Time didn't change at all, since we are  always in the present. Right now, it's 24 different clock times on our planet. When does this happen in the movie? Now. We're actually always watching now, now. 

It's only in our minds that we can travel to other places and times. We can think of and imagine any past event or potential future happening. Our minds' powers of time travel are so strong that we can even grieve a loss that hasn't yet occured. We can literally be homesick for a home that we never had. We can imagine what it would be like to be married, or to have a home, or to win the Stanley Mug Championship. And if we don't get that house or the love of our life chooses someone else, or we don't have the happy marriage we dreamt up, or your team doesn't get to compete for the mug for which you yearned and cheered all season for, we can actually feel the pain of that loss! 

If we take a moment to think of our own inevitable death, we can even write our own obituary and if you do it seriously, you will probably shed some tears for the life and death that you imagined.

When the pain of loss is real and not only imagined, how do we get through such pain? We must use the real power of our minds! Meditation is a practice that enables us to quiet the egoic mind. The sometimes (often) incessant voice in our heads will keep blabbering if we don't take action and find something else to focus on.

Practice with me now. Take a moment and focus on your breathing. Don't try to control it, just let it happen subconsciously. Your task is to experience each breath fully. Feel the air rush in through your nostrils. Pay attention to the rising and falling of your chest and abdomen. Notice the sounds the air makes as it is exhaled. Count the breaths softly noting them as they come and go. Or you might just make a slight mental note of "in" and "out" with each passing breath.

Do it. 

Seriously. Take a minute. These words will still be here when you get back.

Feel better? 

Good. 

Another way to quiet the mind is to get yourself into a flow state. Flow is achieved when we engage in activities that we have efficacy for and in which we feel challenged. Surly you have heard an athlete say that they were in "the zone". If you ever participated in a sport you probably felt alive in the present moment in this way. With practice, even mundane tasks can be accomplished in a flow state. The background noise of the cheering fans, the opposition or even just the music being played in the background will disappear as you zone in and get into the flow.

Though I have found myself able to get in a flow state during many activities in my life from playing guitar to hiking, and from playing soccer to writing, or even just becoming absorbed in activities like driving, particularly when off-roading in intense driving conditions, we can also get there in our love making or even when cleaning the house. Imagine you have company coming over and only a few minutes to get the place clean. The added stress can help get you into the zone. If you don't get overwhelmed and frustrated, you might find that before long the place is clean and the party is already under way. 

Being immersed in an activity that has an element of potential danger can get us into a flow state as well. Climbing rocks or trees, surfing on ocean waves, hiking on extreme mountainous rocky terrain and cycling down steep grades at high speeds are some of my go-to flow state activities. I suggest you find something you are good at and immerse yourself in it. You might enjoy where it takes you. 

This brings us to the next piece of the puzzle. In September, we completed the coast to coast to coast trek by crossing through the eastern states from the midwest to the shores of North Carolina. The goal in mind was to  arrive in time to catch some killer waves. 

The forecast began to shape up and conditions became optimal for a couple of days after one of the many Hurricanes came through. As a novice surfer I was a bit intimidated by the 5-8 foot swells. I stood and stared out at the walls of water as they rose up, curled over and came crashing down again and again. I felt a wave of anxiety rise within me while I studied the breakers searching out patterns and wondering how I would be able to paddle out over or through them. I forced myself into the water. I waded out with my boogie board at first, just to get aquatinted with the shear power of nature and to hopefully ease my fears.

Photo credit L. Perry

After catching a couple of rides it became apparent that I might be in over my head, both literally and figuratively, but decided to give it my all and strapped the leash of the 8 foot foam rental to my leg. As I paddled out the anxious feelings swelled with each wave encountered. Then after each situation was successfully navigated, the anxiety slowly morphed into more of an excitement. I began to trust my training and when an 8 footer came crashing down and I rolled into the turtle position just before it did, I could feel the raw power of the wave as it passed me by. When I popped up a few moments later on the other side, I pulled myself back onto the board and paddled into the next one. There was a feeling of relief coupled with a growing confidence. With each passing wave, it seemed more and more likely that my abilities would be able to get me out beyond the breaking waves and more importantly, back to the shore.

Sitting on the middle of the board and working to keep my balance I felt the rising and falling of each passing ripple. Then, after fumbling a few times by paddling in and then popping up too soon allowing several waves to pass me by, I eventually caught one and rode it in. I could feel the push as the ocean propelled me forward. Rising up to my feet, I kept my balance for as long as I ever had. Being that it was near high tide, the wave carried me all the way to where the ocean meets the land. This was a new situation for me and I had no idea what the correct course of action should be. There wasn't any time to think! Only time to act. And when I ran out of real estate, I jumped off the front of the board and ran up the beach! I felt it was a dismount worthy of a full 10 points. 

This ride was one of my best ever, but the next one was even better but for different reasons. It was the second day of surfing and the conditions were now given a full 5 star rating. Smooth water with nice curling waves, a current that didn't push you up or down the beach and a slight off shore breeze. I had just paddled out through some of the most intimidating waves I have yet to encounter when I felt that I was for sure beyond the breakers and I had stopped to rest briefly. I felt the board rise and fall a few times as the passing waves swelled up and lowered me back down. Then all of a sudden, from closer to the shore a friend of mine who is a more accomplished surfer, shouted to me "Turn around and paddle out!" I turned to look over my shoulder and a giant wall of water was rising up so I did what I thought made the most sense. I just paddled faster! I felt the powerful wave come tumbling down but managed to stay afloat and realized that I had actually been propelled forward. The wave was pushing me toward the shore but I hadn't yet stood up. I hadn't even made my way to my knees. The realization that I was actually riding the biggest wave I have ever encountered was mind blowing. I convinced myself that I had to get to my feet or it just wouldn't count. So, I got to my knees quickly found my balance and brought my left foot between my hands. I stood there for an eternity. I found myself staring down at the top of the board, then I brought my eyes to focus on more of my surroundings. I glanced to the right, then to the left, then behind me and I saw the glorious white frothy water curling over to my right and I adjusted my feet a little and the board turned slightly, I adjusted and leaned a little and it turned the other way.  The board and I moved in unison and I was in control. Adrenaline was pumping through my arteries and my veins. I felt the rush. It was mesmerizing. There was absolutely nothing else on Earth. There I was, alone on this tiny blue object, floating on the frothy ocean water with the smell of salt and sea in the air and the sandy beach sparkling ahead. All of it bonded together in a connection made possible by Mother Nature and the ingenuity of man. And for that brief moment everything had become One. 

The oneness of it all... The Earth, the Moon, the Sun, everything in the solar system, the Galaxy and even every particle in this version of the multiverse... All of it, all of me, all of us, converged together in one moment. There are only a few quiet moments in life where I have felt this way. This one though, is one that I will continue to go back to. Like I said before we gotta go back, but maybe we gotta go back with the hope that we can continue to tap into the power of the present moment. It is in the moment that time ceases to exist and all is still. Namaste my friends