A New Journey Begins

It has been many months since I last wrote a blog post.  In the time since I last wrote life has been very busy, complicated and full of ups and downs; I met my fiancee Debra, I recovered from injuries suffered in a bike crash last May, we found a house after months of looking and moved in October 21st, we had my 2011 Road Glide delivered to Canada by my friend Tudor, we renovated the house (ongoing like, forever), we went to San Diego and Baja California, and I set up a new art/music/photography studio.

I have been retired now since 2008 but Debra is still working and will be for a while yet.  While she earns our daily bread, I work on projects around the house.  One thing that remained an incomplete chapter in my book of life was my art.  I got side-tracked by my career and had asthma issues so I drifted away from something I love to do.  Creative pursuits energize me in a way that turns everything around me into a positive experience.  Working on my writing, painting, or working in the field with my camera elevates my sense of well-being and that infuses every aspect of my life.

After talking with Debra about it on many occasions, I decided to take the plunge and get back to my art with the intention of selling my work.  This winter I dove back into the world of art and managed to keep the home repair/reno list under control.  At this moment, I have 4 works underway and a new website to showcase my work and in the near future, I will add an e-commerce function to sell original works and limited edition prints.  Yes, I built the website myself and launched it tonight.

My regular readers will remember that I was working on a book.  That project has been on hold for a while but I hope to pick that up again and do the final editing.  There is not a huge market out there interested in eclectic beat-style poetry so I will sell my wiring as e-books through the website to make it an affordable venture rather than the tradition find-a-publisher route.

Did I mention I went for a ride today?  Well I did.  The 2011 Road Glide fired right up and away I went this afternoon for a 2 hour ride around Niagara.  It sure felt great!  My 2004 Road Glide is for sale to make some room in the garage.

I have moved my blog to the new website so I hope you will bookmark my site and subscribe.

It's great to be back!!!

My new site

All My Roads

It’s a sunny day in Central Florida as I sit in the motel room waiting for my riding companion to finish the chores and get ready for a ride.  I am now eagerly looking forward to the road and where it takes me.

As I scanned through my music library for future playlist candidates, I came across some country music.  I admire the direct simplicity of the lyrics.  No wrappings of intellectualization, or obfuscation to avoid dealing with a feelings filter.  Just straight-forward lyrics and soul-touching tunes.

As I sit here writing and thinking about the road ahead, I am thinking of love and the discovery of a love that is mutual, affectionate, and profound.  I can start out by saying I love me.  I am truly comfortable in my own skin and have learned to be compassionate about my own foibles and weaknesses.  I love the world about me and appreciate the skills of the Creator.  I love my Harleys and the roads they take me down.  And, I know I will find the love we all seek way over yonder that will fill my life with affection, intimacy, and grace.

Reading the lyrics of one of my country singing favorites, sets me in a mood for discovery and the realization of what I seek.  I spoke with a dear friend on the phone this morning and was reminded that I am a warrior.  I must be to survive on the road through the mental, physical, spiritual and emotional challenges; albeit, a quiet, self-deprecating, and somewhat shy warrior. 

As I read through the lyrics and listen to Collin Raye sing All My Roads, I am taken to a place of desire with an empty space to be filled.

Looking back from where I stand tonight

I wouldn't change a thing about my life

Wrong turns I had to take back in those crazy years

Could not have been mistakes if they brought me here

'Cause all my roads have led me to

This night, this love I share with you

And though the road was never smooth

Life has made me someone who

Could be the right someone for you

I don't regret a single broken heart

That taught me what love is and what it's not

Someone must have planned our two paths would cross

I couldn't see it then but I was never lost

'Cause all my roads have led me to

This night, this love I share with you

And though the road was never smooth

Life has made me someone who

Could be the right someone for you

Detours, dead ends, endless explorations

You were my only destination

'Cause all my roads have led me to

This night, this love I share with you

And though the road was never smooth

Life has made me someone who

Could be the right someone for you

A beautiful lyric that is perfect for my emotional moment as I sit poised for the next leg of my journey to begin.  Another tune of the playlist of country songs is from the exquisite Trio record made my Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris.  I have been blessed to see Emmylou twice in my life and both concerts were pure emotional magic.  The beautiful lyric and the soul-touching harmonies fill me with a flush of love and the desire to share this love.

I've been higher than the high sierra

Lower than Death Valley must be

I've been right, mostly wrong

Wrong about you, right about me

The way I feel, can't explain

So much passion turned to pain

The sun still shines most of the time

Did you know the sun shines when it rains

I've been higher than the high sierra

Lower than Death Valley must be

I've been right, mostly wrong

Wrong about you, right about me

I've been cussed and I've been praised

And I've been nothing these days

I'll come back, time will see

If I'm wrong about you, right about me

I've been higher than the high sierra

Lower than Death Valley must be

I've been right, mostly wrong

Wrong about you, right about me

Wrong about you, right about me

Wrong about you, right about me

The road beckons and down that road lives the love I seek in the place way over yonder.

All My Roads - Collin Raye

High Sierras = Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris

Mojave Cactus

Kim in Rocky Mountain State Park

From the as yet untitled new book:

In my joy with life

I danced under her little wings

Blessed by the presence

Of the fairy queen

Urging my steps

Into careless abandon

All The Road Running

It is late afternoon in Palm Coast after a beautiful warm day.  The sky is a complete dome of cerulean without a mar except the pale white ghost of a near-full moon rising in the east.  Today my mind was occupied with the final matters of getting on the road for an extended period.  The Road Glide Ultra went in for its 5,000 mile service, and I went over the load and packing arrangements to make sure it made sense for ease of access and organization plus load balance.

Tomorrow I will spend with my riding companion for the last month.  We have had some great rides together and I will take away many fine memories of our fun at bike week and après-ride dinners.  Tomorrow will be the day for the last farewell before I hit the road.

Saturday will come too soon in one sense but not soon enough.  Too soon when taking my leave from someone who has shared the saddle for almost a thousand miles; not soon enough to be on the next adventure though it will again be a solo effort. 

As I write, I am listening to Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris in their collaborative record All The Road Running.  The third verse captures some of my thoughts as I think about the next long ride.

Well if you’re inclined to go up on the wall

It can only be fast and high

And those who don’t like the danger soon

Find something different to try

And when there is only a ring in your ears

And an echo down memory lane

Then if it’s all for nothing

All the road running's been in vain

The wall in this instance refers to a travelling carnival act called the Wall of Death (there was one set up at the Iron Horse Saloon for Bike Week), but it could apply to this 63 year-old out on his Spirit Quest.  I will be travelling and there is always an element of danger when we choose to do it on two wheels.  Some people find this element of danger too daunting to ever experience being in the wind.  The message for me is in the last four lines.  When this Quest/ride is over and the ring of the Rineharts in my ear are but an echo in my memory, will I have found what I seek and will it be for something that is of value spiritually and emotionally?  If I remain true to myself and am compassionate with myself for the fumbles of human frailty, all the road running will not be in vain.

The playlist for the first leg is built and installed on the iPod.  It is all travelling music, mainly southern rock, blues, and some ballads.  I am working on the routes in detail now and will upload them to the GPS.  Leg one will be from Palm Coast, Florida to Mobile, Alabama.  I intend to avoid the interstates where possible.  I am in no rush and want to see something of the real land I will be transiting.

The route is 436 miles and 9.5 hours in the saddle.  Not a bad start for this ride.  When I set out I will play what has become my theme song for the beginning of each ride: Jackson Browne’s Running on Empty.

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels

Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields

In '65 I was seventeen and running up 101

I don't know where I'm running now, I'm just running on

Some mornings it feels like that I am just running and unsure just where; geographically and metaphysically.  But, I am sure running and the miles rush away beneath those wheels as the dual Rineharts rumble beneath the music on my playlists.

Ah, the search for that place “Way over yonder is a place I have seen/It's a garden of wisdom from some long ago dream”.  The ride to that uncertain place is the experience and I will relish each moment of the journey and all the meetings that will occur along the way.

All The Road Running - Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris

Way Over Yonder - Carole King

Nice touch of Celtic music in All The Road Running so suitable to this St. Patrick’s Day.  Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!!

Leg One Route

From the new book:

When we are together

There is magic in our presence

The energy that love exudes

So real so palpable

It touches those around us

Being together is a natural state

Male and female in balance

Giving purpose to our differences

Enhancing each experience

Our time together

Will be so fleeting so short

Each second will be counted

Like solitary diamonds

Hallelujah

My playlist for the ride included Eric Clapton, The Police, Bruce Springsteen, Jackson Browne, The Allman Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, and Jeff Buckley.  I will be here a few days to visit friends and to get the 5000 mile service done on the Road Glide Ultra.  Then, I will ease into the ride out to see my good friends Sandra and Clyde in San Benito, Texas.  They have a ride planned out to New Mexico and I may ride with them.  Once in New Mexico, it is not a whole lot further to be in California.  I feel drawn to that wonderful state with the variety of scenery and the many gracious people I have met through social networking.

I hope to quickly get into the rhythm of a long ride.  Sorting out interesting routes at night for the next day, checking weather and road conditions, and building interesting playlists for the iPod.  On the road, I get into the zone with all my focus on the ride but my mind also has lots of time to work through any issues and it is also when many ideas for poetry get tested and worked out so I can write them out at the end of the day.

The route today was simply a ride up US Hwy #1 from Sebastian to Daytona with a few side trips and a short blast up I-95.  No photography today.  I wasn’t in the mood after a fun farewell party at the cabin with my Sebastian friends.  I probably had too much fun judging from my need for some Tylenol and a mouth like the bottom of a birdcage.

One of the songs on today’s place list is on Jeff Buckley’s Grace album.  I love the vocal range and ethereal sound of Jeff’s voice.  His cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah is mesmerizing and transformative.  The subject matter of the lyrics is on one of my favorite topics for my poetry: love and relationships.  Cohen’s imagery and choice of words to describe the emotions and intensity of the relationship and the intimate contact is simply beautiful.

There was a time when you let me know

What's really going on below

But now you never show that to me, do you?

But remember when I moved in you

And the holy dove was moving too

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

To know that intensity and to feel the exotic and erotic waves of feelings, both physical and emotional, is what I want to experience. 

As I ride westward over the next weeks I will be embarking on a new adventure. I will meet new people, make new friends, and perhaps if it is my destiny, enter into a loving relationship.  Time will tell, as the saying goes. 

I am looking forward to the ride as I shift from the sadness of departing from a place I love and from people who have become very dear to me, to the excitement of seeing each new wonder around the next corner.  I will keep blogging as I go forth and take the many people now falling my blog posts with me on this continuing Spirit Quest.

Lyrics for Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah:

Well I heard there was a secret chord

that David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don’t really care for music, do you?

Well it goes like this:

The fourth, the fifth,

The minor fall and the major lift

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

She tied you to her kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…

Baby I’ve been here before

I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor (you know)

I used to live alone before I knew you

And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch

and love is not a victory march

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…

There was a time when you let me know

What’s really going on below

But now you never show that to me, do you?

But remember when I moved in you

And the holy dove was moving too

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…

Maybe there’s a God above

All I’ve ever learned from love

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

And it’s not a cry that you hear at night

It’s not somebody who’s seen the light

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah

A live performance by Jeff Buckley of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah

From the still untitled book

Darkness is falling

Glazings of progressive greys

Over the blue green day

Hollow traffic hums

And children’s voices fading

Behind drawn curtains

Distant Don Henley

Ballads playing from the dark

Beyond a single lamp

And my thoughts lay

Quiet, reflective on this day

Shades of blue and grey

The warming glow

Of the solitary light shines

Casting yellow shadows

My heads lifts slowly

Listening to the driveway gravel

And quiet footsteps

Walking to the door

I open it wide to greet you

A tender touch

The room brightens

As you enter the rising light

Smiling eyes

I close the door

On the passing bleak night

Knowing all is well

If This Is Goodbye

I am sitting in the usual place for blogging, that being, my chair by the stoop of the cabin at the “Hotel California”.  It is a beautiful spring-warm night in Sebastian, Florida with the gibbous moon playing peek-a-boo through the leaves of the live oak trees and a billi0n stars all about it.  There is a scent of the sea on the wind and a gentle breeze occasionally stirs my hair and rustles the palm fronds.

It is a sad evening for me.  The air feels heavy in the cabin as my belongs are boxed and piled ready for my friends Rob and Bud to help me move them to the storage building.  There is still some packing to do and the usual weeding out of T shorts and jeans so I can carry what I need on the Harley for the next several months.  The list is fairly short.  Tool kit and first aid kit, cold weather accessories and heated liners, fuel conditioner for the nasty ethanol, clothes, toiletries, documents, camera gear, a couple of books, sleeping bag, rain gear, cleaning cloths, iPod, CD’s, and one of my smaller Native American flutes (high D minor) made by the master Raymond Redfeather.

It is sad because I have made so many good friends.  Real friends.  The type of friends who accept me no matter what my state of mind or spirit.  Friends, who have my back all of the time as I have theirs will be left behind but never forgotten.  I will be leaving them for a while but I know I will see them again.  There have been love too, both realized and unrequited.  The bittersweet sense of parting lingers in my heart and soul, as I will set forth into the unknown distances and chance meetings of the road and my Spirit Quest.

I was listening to music as I always do at times like this.  My favourite singer, Jackson Browne, spun out his tune All Good Things Come to an End.  And the beautiful ballad performed by Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris, If This is Goodbye.

My famous last words

Are laying around in tatters

Sounding absurd

Whatever I try

But I love you

And that's all that really matters

If this is goodbye

If this is goodbye

Your bright shining sun

Would light up the way before me

You were the one

Made me feel I could fly

And I love you

Whatever is waiting for me

If this is goodbye

If this is goodbye

Who knows how long we've got

Or what we’re made out of

Who knows if there's a plan or not

There is our love

I know there is our love

My famous last words

Could never tell the story

Spinning unheard

In the dark of the sky

But I love you

And this is our glory

If this is goodbye

If this is goodbye

Whether for friend or lover the lyrics work and capture the melancholy of parting and closing a chapter in the journey never forever for, if nothing more, the memories and experiences live in my heart and soul.

Not a long blog tonight but I need to ground myself amidst the emotional turmoil and be ready for the joys of the road and the continuance of finding the “me” in me.

I hope to blog once more before leaving this beautiful, memorable place.

If This is Goodbye - Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris.

All Good Things - Jackson Browne

Fountain of Sorrow - Jackson Browne

My dear friends will be with me on the road in my heart, soul, and spirit.

From the untitled book

My heart is an empty room

That still echoes with your laughter

And the sound of your footsteps

As you quietly close the door

The clouds have moved in

The clouds have moved in from the Atlantic

Covering my horizons with gray

Blocking the sun

To guide my way

My spirit dims in the subtle light

Beneath the sullen clouds

Looking east I wish the clouds away

One by one

Clearing a path to the light

So my progress continues

In the light of my inner peace.

Where The Road And The Sky Collide

I’m sitting in the usual morning spot for the coffee ritual; the front stoop of the cabin at the “Hotel California” in Sebastian Florida.  I can count the days I will be here on two hands with the help of one foot.  I have loved this place since I rode into town last November and I have my friend Chris to thank for guiding me here.

The time I have spent has been transformative.  I have never felt the level of calmness and serenity that I have discovered within me as a consequence of being here.

My morning greeting on my social networks today read:

“It breezy and lots of big puffy clouds over the Atlantic today. Not as hot as I would like but I'll take it. Coffee is on and another day starts with lots to do to get ready for the summer ride. Good morning!!”

It is almost time to leave this place of peace, friendship, love, music, beautiful weather and riding.  I have experienced all of these in this pause in my long distance riding travels as I continued to walk the Spirit road.

When I started out on the last leg of my ride, from Niagara to Florida, I required twice daily doses of medication for asthma.  Today I require none.  It is not just the benefit of climate but, the benefit of the inner space and the peace that comes from being grounded and accepting of myself as I am, without the trappings of a unnecessarily complicated life.

I have met some wonderful people in my winter of rebirth.  Friendships have developed that are rugged and strong enough to transcend and withstand the time and distance of separation that will occur when I take to the road again.  I feel such gratitude to these friends who enriched my life and taught me so much about love, giving, receiving, and just being in the moment.  I won’t name them to preserve their privacy, but they know who they are.

I have also made many new friends that I have yet to meet who have come to me or, me to them, through my online social networks and through these blog posts.  I look forward to meeting many of them out on the road in my travels over the next several months.  I know from our conversations and messaging that more rich friendships will develop and our lives will be enhanced and enriched through the opportunity to meet and become acquainted.

While breakfast was cooking, I listened to the Late For the Sky record made so long ago by Jackson Browne.  We all make records.  Not necessarily musical records but, records of our lives; the happiness, the sorrows, the loves, the broken hearts, the camaraderie, the loneliness.  Our lives woven into the material of our experience clothing us in the attributes that make us who we are; warts and all.

The music today was so appropriate.  Take this song, The Road and The Sky:

When we come to place where the road and the sky collide

Throw me over the edge and let my spirit glide

They told me I was going to have to work for a living

But all I want to do is ride           

I don't care where we're going from here

Honey, you decide

Well I spend my time at the bottom of a wishing well

And I can hear my dreams singing clear as a bell

I used to know where they ended and the world began

But now it's getting hard to tell

I could be just around the corner from Heaven or a mile from Hell

I'm just rolling away from yesterday

Behind a wheel of a stolen Chevrolet

I'm going to get a little higher

And see if I can hot-wire reality

Now can you see those dark clouds gathering up ahead?

They're going to wash this planet clean like the Bible said

Now you can hold on steady and try to be ready

But everybody's gonna get wet

Don't think it won't happen just because it hasn't happened yet

I'm just rolling away from yesterday

Behind the wheel of a stolen Chevrolet

I'm going to get a little higher

And see if I can hot-wire reality

The first verse just hit me with the sense of being at another point of taking off.  I have been where the road and the sky collide and I am ready to let my spirit glide.

When we come to place where the road and the sky collide

Throw me over the edge and let my spirit glide

They told me I was going to have to work for a living

But all I want to do is ride

I don't care where we're going from here

Honey, you decide

Yes, all I want to do is ride and the Spirit will decide where we go from here.

From the book (yes, still with no title)

The road of clay rich ochre

Emerged from the forest

Running to the shore

A gleeful child for the arriving

Bordered at water’s edge

By two beech trees

Old and hallowed in time

Sun to the right

Moon to the left

In balance as it should be

And in the turmoil of clouds

Reflected in the water

The countenance of an angel

Ever watchful of careless steps

And another:

Anticipation

It fills the air about me electric

I look to the north to skies clear blue

My boot tracks clear in the trail

The steps of my journey made with purpose

How quickly I have come to this point

But my steps have been sure and unwavering

Anticipation

Not ominous but with a sense of leaving

I look to the east and the fading late sky

Perhaps salted with the tang of regret

For loves lost and memories of old lives

Memories to be treasured and stored lovingly

Lesson learned about life’s uncertainties

Anticipation

It is orange and yellow dramatic light

I look to the west sun setting intensely

Bright with promise of the future

Of life to be lived and lessons to be learned

Of future joys unknown and momentary treasures

Of great joy to greet and meet journey’s end

Anticipation

Hot wind of a dog’s breath on my arm

I look to the south warmly beckoning

My trail continues this way

Leading me to my destiny my dreams

Where I will find shelter from the storms

Where I will find great purpose and peace

Anticipation

The Road and The Sky - Jackson Browne

On The Outside Looking In

Sitting here in my favorite chair outside my cabin, I can see the storms clouds rolling along painted in shades of gray with soft white brush strokes.  The wind is cool and moisture laden coming in beneath the clouds blowing from the northwest.  I hope the rain to the north knocks down the brushfires near Titusville.

Life is reverting to my “normal” mode.  My visitors have left and are back in the snow and cold.  Friends in the BON world have found jobs and are getting into the rhythm of work and gratefully, the bounty of an income again.  My FaceBook friends are looking forward to spring and the promise of another wonderful riding season.  I am working through the Gordian knot of cross border travel with a Harley registered in Florida. 

The end result is I have to register the new Harley in Canada to ride it there and cough up a significant amount of cash to the government of Canada that is totally a windfall for them (so much for open borders and free trade) and a significant windfall for the Canadian Harley distributor.  So, I will leave the new Road Glide in the USA.  No free rides for either.  My ’06 has lots of miles left in it so I will gladly enjoy riding it in my Canadian travels.

Bike Week in Daytona is fast approaching.  I am of mixed feelings about the event.  I know I will meet old friends and make some new ones but I am no good in a crowd.  I’m one of those folks who tends to hang back from the frenetic activity to people watch and to absorb the experience.  I get asked daily when I meet people on my rides “Are you going to Bike Week”?  My feelings of ambivalence probably stems from 40 years ago when the recurring theme was “boogie till you puke”!!  I think those days are passed for me.

I have a couple of invites for places to stay during the event so, I think my curiosity will draw me north for at least a day or two and the thought of connecting with people I enjoy will help overcome my shyness and fear of the large crowds.

It brought to mind the lyrics of an old R&B classic I first heard my Little Anthony and the Imperials and currently covered my Jordan Pruitt and Amy Winehouse “On the Outside Looking In”. 

You don't know my name

You don't know anything about me

I try to play nice

I want to be in your game

The things that you say

You may think I never hear about them

But word travels fast

I'm telling you to your face

I'm standing here behind your back

[Chorus:]

You don't know how it feels

To be outside the crowd

You don't know what it's like

To be left out

And you don't know how it feels

To be your own best friend on the outside looking in

If you could read my mind

You might see more of me than meets the eye

And you've been all wrong

Not who you think I am

You've never given me a chance

[Chorus:]

You don't know how it feels

To be outside the crowd

You don't know what it's like

To be left out

And you don't know how it feels

To be your own best friend on the outside looking in

Well, I'm tired of staying at home

I'm bored and all alone

I'm sick of wasting all my time

[Chorus (x2):]

You don't know how it feels

To be outside the crowd

You don't know what it's like

To be left out

And you don't know how it feels

To be your own best friend on the outside looking in

You don't know how it feels

To be outside the crowd

You don't know what it's like

To be left out

And you don't know how it feels

To be your own best friend on the outside looking in

In my case, being on the outside is not the result of being talked about, jilted or excluded but rather, a lifelong shyness that verges on being painful.  I did okay in my business life because I treated that like a performance and I would get myself “up” for the performance everyday and paid the toll with a constant high stress level.  In retirement and living as authentically “me” as I can, my shyness I am sure, has caused me to miss opportunities to meet some wonderful people and conversely for them to meet me and perhaps find friendship in the meeting.

So yes, I will visit Bike Week with the intention to get out there a little and perhaps meet a kindred soul.  Who knows what turns the road will take and the time spent mixing and observing; who know where that time goes?

Lyrics by Sandy Denny

Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving

But how can they know it's time for them to go?

Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming

I have no thought of time

For who knows where the time goes?

Who knows where the time goes?

Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving

Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go

But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving

I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes?

Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone while my love is near me

I know it will be so until it's time to go

So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again

I have no fear of time

For who knows how my love grows?

And who knows where the time goes?

A gentle rain has started to fall so I am inside now and kicked back after a light lunch and ready for some music.

On The Outside Looking In - Little Anthony and the Imperials

Who Knows Where The Time Goes? - Eva Cassidy

From the untitled book

And in the whispering silence of the rain

I heard soft chords and scattered notes

Diana Krall passages

Written in soft fonts

Into the fabric of my day

A feeling of red velvet

Softly

Touching

And a final chord echoes against wet glass

And another

There was a hint of rain

And hesitant summer

Breaking into evening

Brash Queen Street

Trolley sounds and scat voices

Your sidelong glances

Tickled my consciousness

Smouldering

Anticipation

A hint of another storm

Rainless but full of promise

From the Earth We Are Born

At the start of my spirit journey, I walked away from my former life of family, property, belongings, and “stuff” to be on the road; living in the moment and experiencing life as it came at me.  It was a conscious choice.  It is a very stripped down, decluttered life when everything you have will fit in one saddlebag and a sissy bar bag (or in the case of the new Road Glide, the TourPak.  One saddlebag is filled with tools, first aid kit, and cold weather gear including chaps.

I made one trip by air back to the family home to pick up two suit cases of belongings and most of these belongings are still in the suitcases and don’t fit in with the essentials that are required for my daily life on the road.  They will soon go into storage here or a local Goodwill box.

I do miss my books including poetry, motorcycling stories, and sometimes my big studio MAC for editing photos and recording music. What I do really miss is my artwork.  I drew great pleasure and comfort having my art on the walls in my living space.

When my brother and his wife contacted me here at the “Hotel California” to tell me they were coming down to visit and they asked what they could bring the list was fairly short.  I asked them to bring my small tent I bought for riding trips, a cover for one of the motorcycles and one of my other helmets.  I also asked them to bring one of my favorite paintings that I painted in 2000.  I was seeing a friend in California and, as always, I had my 35mm Canon with me.  I referred to it as my sketchpad. 

On one of my many trips to California, my friend and I visited some beautiful places on the coast south of San Francisco including Rockaway Beach, haunt of my many Beat period poet heroes, Half Moon Bay, Ano Nuevo Beach, Monterrey, and Carmel.  We also visited a tiny secluded beach at Montara.

As my friend sat up on the bluff overlooking the beach, I made my way down the ocean edge, and took a photo looking inland to capture this magnificent cypress sitting on the very brink of the bluff.  I could see the possibilities for a painting and when I got the photo back from the lab, I had them make a 24 x 36 inch plaqued copy of the print.

Back in my studio, I lofted out the lines on a 24 x 36 inch gallery canvas interpreting the photo into an allegory about the spiritual connection between Mother Earth and the sky with the cypress featured as the channel connecting the two and the roots of the cypress binding the earth together and providing the nutrients and cohesiveness to provide for the birth of life.  The words of the prayers for burial (and rebirth) were in my mind as I shaped the figured of clay emerging from the bank of the bluff joined as couples coming into the light of day beneath the spiritual sky.

I used an impasto technique I have used for 10 years now that is referred to as encaustic.  Using a palette knife I blended soft wax with the foundation colours of the painting into a thick paste softened with Stand Oil that I applied and sculpted to give enormous buildup and dimension to the painting.  Next, I used another favorite technique to create the spiritual sky, blending the paints directly on the canvas using 4 inch paint roller dipped in a cobalt and Venetian turps, glazing medium.   The next step in two months of work was to texture the encaustic buildup with a slow drying glazing medium with 6 and in some places 8 layers of transparent colored paint glazes. 

The final work on the cypress tree and the surrounding bushes used a thinned out encaustic with a high percentage of Stand Oil to create dimension and depth to the foliage and the tree trunk.  Again a slow drying glazing medium allowed me to create minute variations in the hue and saturation of the colours.

The finished work has a vibrancy and inner light that still resonates with me.  Tonight, the painting sits in front of me at the foot of my bed where the morning light brings it alive and it is the first sight I see on waking every day.

I am so happy my brother and his wife took the time, effort, and risk to transport it here so I could have a important and valued piece of my previous life with me.

When I hit the road again soon, I will leave it with a friend here who will have it to place on their wall until I return to spend next winter here.  My other work will have to go into storage up in Canada.

Even in this nomadic life I have chosen, it is important to have some ties to things we love and cherish.  Cypress - Montara Beach is just that.

More of my art is accessible through my FaceBook page and I may blog about some of the other works.  Art, poetry, photography and music feed my soul and express my spirituality.  Perhaps this work will provide you with insight, inspiration, and perhaps a little pleasure.

 

From the new book or poetry

As I work I found myself wondering

Of these chance meetings

Along this magical road

The touching of kindred souls

Perhaps only for a brief respite

Or a friendly conversation

Perhaps to join together

For part of the journey

Perhaps for the teaching

But in my wondering

I see only good 

Harmony 

Feed The Fire

A friend on BON made some kind remarks about this morning’s blog and I replied that her encouragement “feeds the fire”.  I recently found out that one of the dark secrets in my family was our native heritage.  We were always told one side of my mother’s family was Irish.  The last name Bernhardt sure sounded Irish but my bro’ through his plotting of our genealogy found we in fact are descended from a family of that name and the family Maracle from the Mohawk nation.

Feeding the fire is an important art of life in the native North American traditions.  As an artist, writer, or as a guy on the assembly line at Generous Motors, the passions in our life feed our inner spirit; our inner fire.  When someone witnesses what we do with our passion and make positive and favorable remarks, it feeds our inner fire.  Passion for life, passion for our hobbies, passion for our craft keeps us young, vital and engaged with our inner spirit and with our outer lives.  It is also the way of The People to feed the fire so it is there always for warmth, cooking, heating the stones for the sweat lodge, and a place to come together and share their life stories.

Several years ago now, I was with a friend in the historic Folsom, California.  We wandered into Betty’s Turquoise Shop and while in that store, I heard this wonderful, haunting music that touched me to the core, piping through the sound system. I asked the man behind the counter what it was and who was performing.  He told me it was the Native North American flute played by a local Grammy winning artist named Mary Youngblood.  Thus was born a new passion in my life.  I guess now I know it was probably somewhere hidden in my gene pool.

Before I left Betty’s, I had purchased an A minor red cedar river flute made by the master Stephan DeRuby and the CD I had heard by Mary Youngblood.  I was hooked. Now I have travelled with my flutes to many places including the gorge of the Niagara River where I played in the woods above the great rapids. I also played my river flute in the sacred Ojibwa Petroglyph Park in Ontario, on the shores of McInnes Lake and that is where I want my ashes scattered when I pass.

Today I have a collection of flutes that may number 14 in total.  Recently I was at a Powwow in Sebastian and there was a remarkable fellow who knows all the makers of my collection and he had several dozen flutes on display.  I ended up buying a flute that had started life as first growth Sequoia then had been part of a barn for a very long time and finally had ended up as an end post in a Napa Valley winery.   The flute maker had been given the post to use to make a flute for the donor and had ended up making several out of the post.  I have the last one.  It is a beautiful airy sounding F# minor flute with a beautiful carved cedar bear for the “bird” over the sound holes.

Our passions are there, buried inside of each of us waiting for the trigger that will release them to be experienced and embraced and integrated into our lives.  Our passions feed our inner fire and keep us young and vital.

This evening while I waited for the last load of laundry I listed to Mary Youngblood’s Feed the Fire.  A lovely tune but I could not find it on you tube or anywhere.  The lyrics, which I will try to capture off my iTunes copy, start like this:

He wandered, he wandered far from home

Out to get, out to be alone

Adventure waited and dreams to find

Left the Rez, left it behind

On his way to follow his heart’s desire

To find that scared place

And to Feed the Fire

It sounds a little like my own spirit journey.  The tune is available on iTunes. 

So as I sit here tonight outside the cabin at the “Hotel California” my head and heart are full of the music of the flute as I look forward to where my journey will take me.  And, I look forward to riding this rode with passion, integrity, and an open heart.  The fog of the late afternoon has lifted and the air is warm again. Warm as the sound of Mary’s flute.

Here is the tune I first heard in Betty’s Turquoise Shop.

Unrequited - Mary Youngblood

Other Native American music

Prophesy Song - Joanne Shenandoah

You Can Hear Them Dancing - Joanne Shenandoah

Ghost Dance - Robbie Robertson (Mohawk)

Reach For The Sky - Mary Youngblood

The first DeRuby River Flutre

View from the Deck at My Home near the Petroglyphs Park

Finding the Fountain of Youth

A comment a friend made to me in a phone call last night triggered my “Here’s a blog coming” response.  When I got up this morning, my BON friend “little wing” had left me a note on yesterday’s blog that got me thinking about the chaos within and the chaos without that is a normal part of my spirit journey and, I guess, everyone else’s.  My friend last night commented on the fact that I think and act young; that I don’t talk old.  I am young as a consequence though the calendar as well as my Facebook and BON page says I am 63 years old.

I am sitting in the shade outside the cabin at the “Hotel California” in Sebastian, enjoying a coffee and the soft breeze off the Indian River.  My thoughts are running over the comments on my blog, my spirit journey, aging, and the riding season ahead of me.  My ride to date and looking forward will be to shed chaos.  I move away from chaos whenever it touches me like the smoke from a brush fire.  Just like I avoid the smoke of the brush fire that burns my lungs, chaos sears my soul.  Whether it is external chaos of partners fighting as I observed last night, or the internal chaos caused by negative self-talk and doubt, I choose to reject and move away from it.

I think part of finding the fountain of youth is to know it is within.  The saying “You are only as old as you act” holds true.  Rejecting chaos clears my vision.  I “see” the clearly who I want to be and I can align it with who I am undistorted by the haze of internal and external chaos.  Tapping into my internal fountain of youth, I keep thinking of the lines of the classic hit co-written by Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey “Take It Easy”.

Well, I'm a standing on a corner

in Winslow Arizona

It's such a fine sight to see

It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed

Ford slowin' down to take a look at me

I know I will make the ride to Winslow, Arizona in October and I will stand on a corner there watching for that girl in the flatbed floor slowin’ down to take a look at me because I feel as young as Glenn Frey was when he wrote that verse!  I feel good about myself and who I am; comfortable in my own skin and in my mind and spirit.  As long as I remain true to myself, I will remain young.  The muse that encourages me to create will live on and my joy with writing, making music, creating new art will stay vibrantly alive.

Tale It Easy -Jackson Browne and Glen Frey performed by JB and David Lindley

From the still untitled new book

How I wondered at the silence

Snow laden forest trail

Pine bough naves reaching skyward

Cedar bark smell and pine needle

Fresh as the crisp air freezing

My nostrils

No breezes rustling bare branches

And in the still shadows

Just presence

Communion

Silence

Joy

Lyrics Take It Easy – Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey

Well, I'm running down the road

tryin' to loosen my load

I've got seven women on my mind,

Four that wanna own me,

Two that wanna stone me,

One says she's a friend of mine,

Take it easy, take it easy

Don't let the sound of your own wheels

Drive you crazy

Lighten up while you still can

Don't even try to understand

Just find a place to make your stand

and take it easy

Well, I'm a standing on a corner

in Winslow Arizona

It's such a fine sight to see

It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed

Ford slowin' down to take a look at me

Come on, baby, don't say maybe

I gotta know if your sweet love is

gonna save me

We may lose and we may win though

we will never be here again

so open up, I'm climbin' in,

so take it easy..."Alright"

Well I'm running down the road trying to loosen

my load, got a world of trouble on my mind

lookin' for a lover who won't blow my

cover, she's so hard to find

Take it easy, take it easy

don't let the sound of your own wheels make you crazy,

come on baby, don't say maybe

I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me, ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh,ooh

Oh we got it easy

We oughta take it easy, yeah

Alive In This World

Yesterday was one of those banner days for motorcycle riding.  I had planned a ride back to the central interior of Florida to see some of the areas I had missed on my ride to Sebastian last November.  The loose plan was to meet one of my friends I had made online at the Daytona Harley dealers then to head inland.  I had a vague notion of checking out the St. John’s River area and the lakes over to Ocala.  Beyond that, I would work out the details off the map when I met my friend.

The weather was already warm as I had a coffee on the stoop while I checked over the Road Glide.  The sky was bright blue with some puffy fair weather cumulus clouds.  I packed some extra water and a long sleeve shirt in the TourPak.  As I worked on getting myself ready, my friend Bud arrived in the family van to borrow my suspension pump to figure out a problem with his Street Glide suspension.  We quickly discussed some approached to troubleshooting the problem then, Bud went his way to finish packing for his Everglades boat camping trip and the repairs to his ride.

By 9:15 I was KSU and on my way to the rendezvous stopping just down the road to top up the tank.  The ride up US #1 to Malabar Road was a treat as the dozen nesting Osprey were already with the task of feeding their young.  The Indian River was alive with the morning sun on the water.

At Malabar, I cut over to the I95 to blast north to make the appointed time to meet my backseat passenger for the day.  The dealership is at I95 and US#1.  I arrived about 10 minutes late but soon found my friend by cell phone navigation in the crowded parking lot.  We quickly consulted the map and were on our way.

We headed west out US#1 to pick up CR304 heading south to Cody’s Corner before turning right onto SR 11 heading south through the Heart Island Conservation area, to pick up SR40 West.  The day was getting progressively warmer and at our pit stop, I stripped the removable leather skin off my leather jacket to get some ventilation.  Heading west through the rolling hills, the forest was lined the roadway and we saw our first bear crossing warning signs.  I didn’t know bears were plentiful enough to be a road hazard but it made for great fun looking to see if one was lurking in the roadside cover.  The bikers were out in full force taking in the perfect day.

By Barberville, we were both hungry and ready for a break.  I saw a sign advertising a lakeside eatery up SR15 so we headed north up that road watching for more signs.  By the time we hit Bakersburg there was no sign of the restaurant.  We stopped to fuel up and shed the morning coffee.  I engaged an older fellow sitting outside the gas station about local places to eat.  He gave glowing reviews for a riverside inn at Astor so we turned around and headed s0uth.  Motorcycling is about the U Turns made on a ride.  The view as we crossed the St. Johns River was breathtaking.

The Black Water Inn looked to be a delightful place but it was closed Mondays.  We had passed a sign advertising a biker friendly waterside restaurant before we crossed the bridge so another U Turn took us back there after a few minutes spent admiring the view and taking a photo op. 

Castaways grill was just perfect.  We enjoyed a cold beer and sandwich lunch and spent time on the deck watching the fishermen and birds working the river.  My prime rib sandwich disappeared in record time probably because I missed breakfast in the midst of my morning busy work.  It was delicious!

After a good break for lunch we headed west again on SR 40.  The GPS was off and in the TourPak.  Now it was follow the most interesting road!  I had mental map in my head but sometimes the turning points disappear to same place where names go when I really need to remember them.  I call this malady CRAFT disease.

My friend was the perfect riding companion.  She sat quietly in the comfort of the luxurious passenger accommodations except to sing along with the tunes on the iPod playlist and occasionally point out something I might miss while focused on the road.  The day was really hot by now.

The lakes amid the trees of the Ocala State Forest were jewels.  We headed north up SR19 in the middle of the forest cutting along the edge of Lake George.  I made a couple of command to explore interesting side roads that turned into sand and gravel fire access roads.  No place to take a low clearance Harley!  My old Kawasaki 350 Greenhorn would have been perfect.

We arrived in Salt Spring by 3 PM and continued north on SR19 until we picked up SR20 on the outskirts of Palatka.  This is a beautiful town in the north end of Lake George where it narrows into the St. John’s River again.  There is a submarine there converted into a museum that I would like to see but by now the sun was on its way down so it will wait until next winter for a visit.  We stopped in the Millennium Park to look for manatee and to watch the birds and the fishermen at work and for another great photo op.

Mounting up, we follow SR 20 out of town with a couple of wrong turns included then picked up SR17 South moving along now as the sun was really on its way down.  Soon SR 40 called for a left turn to head east until we picked up SR 11 again and rode into Brunnell for a bio break.  A right on US#1 took us past the White Eagle saloon, a popular biker bar near Daytona and our dinner destination.  By now the sun was gone and we were hot and hungry after a long ride and lots of baking in the sun.

 We enjoyed lots of getting acquainted conversation along with a feast of the Canadian dinner staple of chicken wings, onion rings, and beer.  Take that, South Beach diet!  The karaoke night was not so good as the wings.

It was getting on when we left the White Eagle and I headed down US#1 to drop my friend at her truck.  By then it was past 9:30 PM.  I don’t like to ride at night and 100 miles on I95 was not my idea of the perfect ending to a perfect day.  At that point II decided the Super 8 across from the dealers was a better bet.  I booked in and we dropped off the Harley there and headed down to A1A by truck to se the sights and to drive the coast up to Flagler Beach.  We made a stop at Finn’s for a libation and to watch the waning moon, just past full rise over the black Atlantic perfectly silhouetting the Flagler pier against the moon reflection on the dark waters.  It was a beautiful sight but the photographer left the Nikon on board the Road Glide.

We headed back to the dealers and the day was done as we went our ways after agreeing that another ride would be fun and that it should happen soon.

In the morning I had to chastise myself to get in better shape before riding season.   I was a little stiff and sore but wasn’t going to make concessions to age.  After wiping the morning dew off the Harley, I mounted up and picked up I 95 to head south.  As I continued to work through the iPod playlist a Jackson Browne (who else) song came up that really resonated for me in that moment and as I reflected on my good fortune and a wonderful day of good weather, great riding, wonderful companionship, and another developing friendship. 

I know this was the thought in my mind as I awake in the Super 8 motel this morning.   I am Alive In The World

I want to live in the world, not inside my head

I want to live in the world, I want to stand and be counted

With the hopeful and the willing

With the open and the strong

With the voices in the darkness

Fashioning daylight out of song

And the millions of lovers

Alive in the world

I want to live in the world, not behind some wall

I want to live in the world, where I will hear if another voice should call

To the prisoner inside me

To the captive of my doubt

Who among his fantasies harbors the dream of breaking out

And taking his chances

Alive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world

To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

With its beauty and its cruelty

With its heartbreak and its joy

With it constantly giving birth to life and to forces that destroy

And the infinite power of change

Alive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world

To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world

To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

Alive In The World - Jackson Browne