This is my equivalent to hitting the snooze button on an alarm clock. Every morning Brown Dog enthusiastically and urgently prances about, essentially saying “Gottagogottagogotaago!!,” while her mean and unfeeling companion hasn’t the energy to crawl out of bed yet. This has become part of the routine. On some levels, there is resentment in these actions: I went on this grand adventure, and all I have to show for it is a dog I did not ask for. Yay me!

Don’t get me wrong. I love Brown Dog. Precisely because of that, she is often the target of my frustrations with life in general … and with myself. She has an exuberant energy that drives me crazy … mostly because I envy it. The irony being that my NOT having it is essentially my own fault. And any resentment is really just my inherent allergy to responsibility. Truth be told … once I actually get the walkies project started … it usually turns into a moment of peace (if often slightly agitated peace thanks to B. D.), reflection, and … believe it or not … learning. I take these moments to appreciate: appreciate what is around me; appreciate what I DO have and what I don’t; appreciate the simple fact of living. These moments are also good for letting the mind wander in nomadic bliss. My thoughts are often random, but I will explore that randomness to its very edges.

This morning, as I admired the early morning light on the autumn colors, the chill, brisk air instilled some nifty thoughts in my head. One that I may actually pursue (let my inner inventor run for a change) is the concept of a treadmill for dogs. As seems to be the norm for this time of year, Brown Dog’s focus was torn between the desperate need to GO NOW!!, the finicky need to GO HERE!!, and the distracting need to  CHASE SQUIRREL!! Basically a typical morning’s walk. Nearing the end of the walk, our slightly frayed, “ghetto” rope of a leash again burned my fingers as B. D. once again decided THAT squirrel was Public Enemy Number One. So I said to her: “They are everywhere, girl. If you chase them all, we’ll never get anywhere.”

With an eye awakening smack, the cold air put its fingers to my cheek and I suddenly GOT IT!

I was talking about squirrels to a dog, but there was a profound lesson in what I had just said for myself (and maybe others). This simple statement so well applies to many other things … but most applicably in MY life to dreams and … causes. Dreams are everywhere. So are battles to be fought. One of the temptations an Idealistic Thinker faces is the need to follow ALL the dreams; the need to fight ALL the battles.

THAT way lays eternal frustration.

Maybe part of the reason I feel so adrift these days is because I have CAST myself adrift. If I keep chasing everything that catches my attention, my own personal squirrels, I will never get anywhere. To reinforce this message, B. D. suddenly got another scent, and started towing me at the cost of her own breathing … again. This time I said, “Stop choking yourself chasing after something you will never catch!!”

The cold air slapped me in the face again as soon as I said this.

Yep. Brown Dog is one fine teacher!

The post Brown Dog teaches … first appeared on thrumyeyes.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. -Lao Tzu

Once again it has been a long while since I have dared put my ongoing journey into the weak vessel that is written language. Photography is a better method of sharing for me, but sometimes it too does not relay what needs to be relayed. Anyhoo, as happens when time passes, much change has come into my life. Paths past have been left and/or revisited, while paths future still live in the nebulous land called Possibility. Companions have moved on with their own journeys, which for many now means a separation of ways … though our paths may cross again. Such is the wonder of the land that I once again am heading towards.

Though I did not complete the Appalachian Trail as a Through-Hiker, there is no doubt that it has changed not only my view of life, but how I live it. The experiences I had there and around it; the people who I met on it … the journey so far has helped shape who I am becoming and where my next steps will take me. The irony of this adventure is that much of the journey has me staying put in one place for indeterminate lengths of time. Right now I am back at what I guess I can call my home base, the “attic” of my mom’s house. While here I need to start repairing some of the inadvertent damage my exploration of parts unknown caused, nurturing the seeds that have been planted along the way, and regrouping for the next part of The Grand Adventure.

One of the potential seeds planted would have me joining a fellow explorer, known on the A.T. as EZ Rock, as he does a documentary in Colorado. This is a photographer’s dream, and I seem to more and more be calling myself a photographer. But there are a few stumbling blocks (as usual) that I need to … well … stumble through.

The biggest challenges are a lack of functional equipment, and the transport of my newest hiking partner, none other than the famous(?) Brown Dog. To that end, a new gofundme campaign has been started:

//funds.gofundme.com/Widgetflex.swf

More importantly, since four-legged companions seem to be discriminated against in the travel world, I need a method of getting myself and Brown Dog from eastern Massachusetts to somewhere in Colorado. Volunteers, suggestions, and/or donations would be most welcome!! Spread the word and maybe I’ll have a chance. And since I know that four-legged companions get way more attention than scruffy middle-aged men, here is a cute pic of Brown Dog:

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The post Walking on first appeared on thrumyeyes.

Hmmmm

It started off as an adventure. Gradually it morphed in walk-about. Then it shifted into a whole new realm … maybe the world of dreams. But as a I ramble about this, I am clarifying for myself. What I am doing is simply LIVING LIFE.

Finally.

That said, part of the lack of posting about life recently is being too busy living it, part of it is living said life in the woods far from any communications capabilities other than smoke signals. Fortunately, I am momentarily pretending to be civilized, so time for a bit of an update. Team Idiot finally escaped the dangerous jungles of suburban Cleveland, managing to make it all the way to the safety of the Spiritual Way Station known as Damascus, VA. Unfortunately, the spiritual world is both of light AND shadow. It seems this past winter shadow seeped in deep, and instead of the bright greeting we were hoping to find, we were instead met with the worst of the human spirit. Apparently free and happy spirits are not welcome to the spiteful spirits that actually try to dominate this otherwise beautiful haven.

But I digress. Back in part of the heart of Appalachia, the team intends to hang here until the Bacchanalian Fest known as Trail Days is over, then decide where to wander to next. Gonna find a place to sit down, do artsy stuff, sell said artsy stuff, hopefully rendering financial issues less of a P.I.T.A.  I will personally try to actually finish one or three of the ever growing number of projects I keep creating.

That was an awful lot of words to get to my ultimate point, that I have gone and started yet ANOTHER blog, kind of spin-off from this blog. Our newest member of Team Idiot is Brown Dog, who has left the city for the first time to explore the wonders of nature. It’s a work in project, but check out …

THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF BROWN DOG.

The post This time I took a left first appeared on thrumyeyes.

Before I set foot on the Appalachian Trail, it was pretty clear that there would be a lot of climbing involved … clear to anyone who has ever seen a mountain. It was less clear to the middle-aged couch potato who still thought of himself as 18 how STRENUOUS and painful some of that climbing would be. But without fail, reaching the summit always carried a sense of achievement; frequently a sense of awe; and all too often a sense of severe pain and hunger. Yet we continued on, sometimes because we really had no choice if we wanted continued survival, but usually simply because that is what we do. But as I have no doubt mentioned many times before, my life is governed by irony. Little did I know that the pains and rewards of that first part of my current journey … a mere hiking a few hundred miles through varying terrain with a house on my back … PALED in comparison to what came next.

Without getting into TOO much detail (after all that is what my best-selling yet to be book is about), suffice to say that the emotional and spiritual part of this journey that has defined the last couple of months is to the hike like The Incredible Hulk is to the kid that always got stuffed into the locker. If you want a less S.A.T.-ish metaphor, or better yet clear speech, it was downright HARD! I reached the depths of despair … not even being able to envision continuing another moment … yet still continued. I found moments of pure nirvanic bliss, so content that if my life stopped at THAT moment, I would know the Question to the Ultimate Answer … yet still continued. I did manly battle with inner demons galore, with many a scar … yet still continued.

And here I am, at the proverbial peak … wondering what is next.

Now I can finally start this blog post. Since I spent so much time in prepping you, I’ll shorten things up a bit. What is next is to continue climbing. No more path to WALK on? Guess I am going to have to fly now. So my new life plan in one long-winded set of words: yet another website (which is also a business) up and running; one old website in the process of being revamped and also turned into a business; two more websites to be upgraded to join the team; all to fall under one shell that also will require a website; three books to finish writing; going to massage school to round off the plan; all this with no steady place to live and no active income yet.

I think I got it all.

Stay tuned folks, it is really starting to get interesting now!!

The post What comes after the summit? first appeared on thrumyeyes.

He walked. And walked. And walked. Then walked some more. As he walked, worlds were created and destroyed. Thoughts paraded in an endless stream, and then were no more. Sadness opened the floodgates, anger beat holes in the walls, and curiosity did its show and tell. And the man continued to walk.

Sometimes the little voice inside the man, the voice of wisdom … the voice of censure … the voice of creativity … the still small voice that should be heard but is so often ignored … spoke to him. It said that maybe he should ask for directions. The man answered his voice, “How can I ask directions when I don’t know where I am going?” The voice then said that there were people wondering where he was … maybe even concerned about him. Again the man flippantly answered, “I’d tell them where I was if I actually knew.”

The man walked on.

The still small voice, not to be deterred, got wily. It appealed to the one thing the man rarely ignored … his hunger. With this backup, the man decided that he would stop walking … at least for the moment. He found the nearest place to sit and eat (at this point no longer so near), and stopped his feet for a bit. The still small voice took advantage of the pause, and finally got the lost man’s attention.

After eating, the man considered what the voice had been telling him. He also considered maybe actually picking a destination. As these thoughts bounced around the emptiness inside, a couple with a cute young girl came in to order some food. Shortly thereafter, a woman came in with an equally cute and young boy. As far as the man could tell, these people did not know each other.

This did not deter the young girl. She was so excited to see the young boy, that they were immediately friends. For several minutes they interacted on a level of pure joy, giggling and laughing. It was a pure, innocent moment. It made everyone there, including the lost man, smile with the simple love and happiness of the moment. The man thought to himself, “Yes, that’s it.” The still small voice agreed.

Suddenly the persistent shadows; the enemies of innocence, came rushing into the room. It dawned on the man that his enjoyment of the moment would so easily mark him as something not to be trusted in this world gone mad. He was a nameless wanderer; a stranger. If ANYTHING happened to these children in the immediate future he would be the automatic scapegoat, the demon in the room.

The moment was made. The moment was lost.

Shortly after this stark and ugly thought, the little boy left, and the little girl slipped into a screaming tantrum. The man, always alert for lessons to be learned, wondered what the moral of THIS story was.

Even the still small voice has not answered him yet.

The post A morality tale first appeared on thrumyeyes.

For instance this particular tale, which is labeled (now somewhat inaccurately) a Tale of  a Trail, has grown so exotic that even those of us living it are not completely believing all aspects. It started as an attempt for two slightly scarred by life kindred spirits trying to find something they both felt they had lost. Months later, we both are in the process of exploring what it is we may have actually needed … again ironically barely following the path we set out on. Mark, Idiot Extraordinaire and Dream Starter, thought he would regain his life and heal by a healthy little stroll through the woods with a friend. He may have indeed regained life and healing … yet he never even set foot on the trail. Not only has he become a master artist that can still be successful without having to spare an ear, but he is returning to his literary genius persona with a …

 … NEW BLOG …

In the mean time, I am still on walk-about, trying to figure IT all out. I am more and more realizing that I need to stop looking for what I want and allow my needs to be heard. Somewhere in there, I hope to write a book or three, sell some photo art, and maybe even accidentally help an occasional soul in the process.

I like to think I am becoming more and more “Picnic” as I keep stepping forward. Good or bad, Picnic is gonna be a damn enjoyable story!!
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The post The best story ever told … for real this time … first appeared on thrumyeyes.

Now that the nature of my journey has changed, I am beginning to see the world differently. Where I have been … Damascus … is a crossroads of sorts. Physically it is a bit of nowhere that somehow connects many different pathways. It is nature and man-made trying to find a balance. Yet spiritually, it is much more. I call it the Doorway to What If. Because it is connected to both the human world and the world humans are trying to leave behind, I am still inundated with all that I was escaping (recovering?) from. Every time I see or hear the news; every time I see the worst of humanity in action … all I want to do is run back to the woods … which is easy in Damascus. On the other hand, at times it is a struggle for fringe dwellers to easily survive the area.

Thus for the moment the adventure once again moves to Ohio. It is not the state of my dreams. I have never even considered it as tops on any list of places to visit. But I am here now, and may be for a while. Fortunately I have learned (remembered?) one simple little fact that oh so many seem to forget often …

THERE IS BEAUTY EVERYWHERE!

As the darker side of life invades our senses, we start forgetting this. The ugly; the dirty; the undesirable somehow claim our focus, blinding us from that refreshment that our souls so need. But the beauty is there if we remember how to see it. It takes effort at times, but a single flower; a smiling child can still be seen in even a war-torn country. And sometimes it is just that small bit of hope that keeps us going.

Not that Ohio is a hopeless place. But the reality so far has set straight some preconceptions I did not even know I had. These are a few moments and sights I caught the other day. I know many who have followed this journey might be disappointed by the new directions it is moving in, but I hope there is still something of interest in what I share.

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The post Open your eyes! first appeared on thrumyeyes.

“At that moment, I realized that I was actually LIVING a Hemingwayish novel. I also realized that I was using my glasses like an old man.”

-Picnic

Picnic looked up. Something had shifted. He felt it in the very center of his being. It was more than the obvious release of tension for everyone in the room, though that was part of it. It was also more than the influence of the salad of mind altering substances he had been exploring lately … though that too was part of it. It was more like he had suddenly left a dark smokey bar to find a brilliant scenic vista from a fantasy world. Blinding at first, but as the eyes adjusted focus became clearer and clearer, and with it both amazement and understanding. The back-up glasses he was now wearing were also playing a role, somehow acting as a filtering lens bringing it all into clarity.

Maybe he was just very stoned. Downright tripping. But he had explored altered consciousness enough throughout his life to sense that … this time … it was so much more than that. He knew without doubt that something significant was about to happen. It was as if his awareness was preparing to step into a whole new level. For the first time a quite a while, Picnic was truly excited for what was to come.

He looked about, taking in the details of the room around him. Sleeping forms, clothing scattered about, a room that was no stranger to the frenzy of high energy people. Dream Girl was a strung bow at full pull … just trying to find her target. The tension this time was far more excitement than stress. Finally! That too was adding to the sense of pending transformation. The Cowboy was coming to get her. Was she ready for him yet? This room, home for the last week, had a definite lived in look, with an atmosphere that was an odd mixture of hope and desperation. Son of Dream Girl and Girlfriend were limb entangled in peaceful slumber, while one of the Lost Boys was deciding what to do with himself for the moment.

Just as it was decided that Picnic, Dream Girl and Lost Boy were going to the store, the peaceful dreamers woke up … and so did the tension again. Healing would be long for this family, but his current level of awareness told Picnic that it WOULD happen. Plans shifted a little, and soon Picnic and Dream Girl were on their way to a little of her favorite stress relief. As soon as they stepped out of the hotel, Picnic’s awareness shifted again, almost splitting. Yet he felt no disorientation this time. The last time he found himself this open eyed he could barely walk a straight line.

“I wish I had a way to record all this!” Picnic thought to himself. The writer in him was sure that if he could remember all the details he was now experiencing he could convert a simple few hours into a transcendental novel. The geekier side could totally envision them as an award winning independent movie that would alter lives. However the only truth that really mattered is that for this moment, Picnic had an understanding of What Is that went far beyond words, or even coherent thought. He simply got it. And wished that he cold keep it long enough to even have a remote chance of expressing it with that limited tool called words.

He was creator and observer all at once; the wandering statue; the frozen stream. He was a well flavored stew of emotions, though no specific spice overwhelmed another … all were needed to make it a nutritious meal for the soul. He was here and not here, everywhere and nowhere. Yet he was also simply Picnic, walking along the sparkling path that Dream Girl always left as a wake in her passage. Together they walked the short walk to Target; together they glided through a new doorway to What If.

“It’s really going to get interesting now …” Picnic laughed to himself as he picked up his pace to try to catch up to Dream Girl.

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The post Another excerpt from the Tao of Picnic first appeared on thrumyeyes.

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I have yet to find the answer to that question. I think it is a false assumption that home describes a precise place. It is becoming more and more apparent that home is really more of a state of mind. I have lived in many places, some quite comfortable, others barely a comfortable rock on soggy grass. I have occupied the same location for years at a time, or found myself relocating on a daily basis.

Yet I still don’t know where home is.

I have encountered home a few times … usually when I least expect it. But there is no specific defining characteristic that said to me: Yep, THIS is home. For many, home may be conjured into being by a specific location, but I guess for us wandering nomadic types, defining home is not so easy. The platitudes tell us home is where your heart is, but what if your heart keeps moving too?

I guess this is also part of my rebirth … defining home for myself. It has fully obvious to me that it will NOT be a specific location, but a part of myself that I will discover (or create?) that I will carry with me continuously. I am seeking my home.

I am kind of annoyed by the belief that I already have it with me. I am just too blinded by my own choices and over-active ego to SEE it yet. Anyway, if there are still folk out there who are interested in my oddly evolving adventures (even if they are a far cry from what they started as), sometime in the next few days I will be going with my partner in crime (or adventuring) to the wilds of Akron, Ohio. There she will ply her trade as a professional torture artist, while I turn a blind eye and ears to the evident agony and help book her clients, all to recoup some of the money we have been shovelling out in recent weeks. She calls it deep tissue massage, but I am still struggling with my conscience over this. hopefully I will have tales to tell of the flora and fauna of the area, and maybe even find a few notable sentences for the pending book. In the mean time, here are a few more pictures to distract y’all:

The post Where IS home anyway? first appeared on thrumyeyes.

How do legends become legends? What makes deeds great enough that they need to be shared across the land? Is it the actions that make the hero? Or is being a character of legend something we are born with? I suppose it pays to have a good advertising team. It’s all about spin.

I would love to share the tale of a legendary character here. I would love to give the exciting details of his journey, a journey like no other. Yes I would love to share such an exciting tale, but sadly I can only work with what I have. THIS particular story is just about lil ole me. Or more specifically, some recent adventures of mine.

“Who,” one might reasonably ask, “ARE you?”

I guess that might be a good place to start.

Everyone has a tale to tell. And each tale is unique to the teller, even if it may share much with another’s story. In the last few months, I have shared parts of my personal story with many different people, while learning bits and pieces of their own tales. All the snippets are blending together in a mosaic that to me display human life in all its complicated simplicity. Truth is often truly stranger than fiction.

I may still be wondering where this my adventure will take me, but it has become clear to me that wherever it goes, I won’t be going alone. A book was always part of the “plan”. The above quote might just be the first few sentences. I think I am now officially writing THREE books.

Just imagine if I not only manage to finish one, but actually get it PUBLISHED. Stranger things HAVE happened.

The post Once upon a time … first appeared on thrumyeyes.