September 11, 2014

Back With The Sax - Realigning


The flight home was easy and on time. The plane had plenty of empty seats with the seat next to me being one of them. I watched 4 movies on the 10 hour trip to Dallas where I switched planes for a short hop to Houston. Everything went smoothly.
It’s already been a week. It goes without saying that Jet lag has had me on a roller coaster ride of energy levels and mood swings but it hasn’t been too bad. Naturally, I’ve already begun to fall into the same old patterns as always but it feels different. I shopped an estate sale this morning, just one, in search of a little inventory. My heart wasn’t into it and I was off my game which equaled missed opportunities as a buddy scored big. I would have been better off staying home. The old patterns are not bad patterns, they’re just limiting.

I guess I halfway went to simply run into a few familiar faces on the circuit of buying and selling old stuff. I stood in the shade of a large stunted palm tree with a small group. A light breeze helped as we were all trying to escape the near 90 degree heat with high humidity at nine thirty in the morning waiting for the sale to open at 10. Steve and I talked vintage audio. Brian, a half way retired photographer, talked about shooting an Indy car race. Two unfamiliar faces were there to buy a comic book collection of 4,000 at a bargain basement price. A record guy I only see occasionally asked what I thought the records would be like judging by the photos. Everyone commented how the summer was hot but not as bad as other summers.
After 4 months of being out of the pickin game coupled with a lukewarm interest I didn’t really have much of a chance. I didn’t buy much and really felt like I should have been doing something else.

Whatever one puts their energy into is what one becomes. When I travel I’m Todd the “World Traveler”. When I dive into my usual work I’m Todd “The Picker”, a modern day term for those of us who buy and sell antiques and collectibles. There is only so much time in the day and what we immerse ourselves in can have a profound effect on shaping our life.
So, what if I were to take a gamble of sorts by suspending who I currently am to make way for what I can become. In other words, suppose I were to dust off repressed talents and prioritize things a little differently. How is that I can effortlessly lace up my shoes and go for a run on a daily basis while I put off writing for another day or let a year pass without learning at least a few words of French. Change and re-prioritization can be very difficult when one’s current circumstances are not bad. Habit locks one in. The questions to ask are, “Is this it?”, or, “Can I do better?”. 

In some ways I feel a subtle buzz of sorts. It’s partly due to the fact that I just got finished traveling for almost 4 month and partly due to an exciting realization that I’m actually in the process of turning the page and starting a new chapter in life. The hardest part is letting go of familiarity and all of it’s comforts. It’s very easy for me to do when I travel but at home it’s a challenge. Sometimes it’s necessary to simply hang it out there for a while. However, you have to stick with it over period of time to really give it a chance, to see what happens. You never know who you might meet or what doors may open.
I spent my last two days of travel in London. On the final day I met up with the wife of a friend who passed two years ago.

Erik was someone I knew while attending the Evergreen State College in the late 1980’s. For about a year we hung out a lot. We played in a band together, spent time on his boat, went out for live music, etc. etc.,. He was an incredibly creative person who I shared time with during the most creative period of my life. There were many philosophical conversations on the twice weekly drives to a house on a lake for band practice with two others. We only played original material and the chemistry between the 4 of us was exceptional for music. Two of the guys were totally committed to giving it a go. Erik and I were kind of half in, half out. The band didn’t last but I often wondered what would have happened given the explosion of attention the Olympia/Seattle area got in the early 1990’s. It will forever be a question in my mind as I was too young at the time to realize how rare it is to be in such a creative collective. Anyway, Erik was a big part of it and he played the Saxophone.
It was no surprise that his wife Kylie would be an absolute pleasure to meet. We met in Hyde Park and had a drink by a pond. She knows several mutual friends through Erik that I’ve long lost track of. We caught up on a lot. In bits and pieces she told me of Erik’s 4 year struggle with complications following surgery to remove a brain tumor that turned out to be benign. It was not without symptoms and something had to be done. The dark segments of description were broken by funny stories of Erik and his unique inspiring way of looking at life.

When I asked Kylie about Erik’s Saxophone she said she still had it and no one was interested. I expressed interest. For me it’s one of those items that represent a lot. It’s an item from a time lost that reminds me of what could have been while inspiring me to somehow pick up where I left off to be better creatively than I ever was. Erik lived with eyes wide open. Listen to John Coltrane or Charlie Parker. The music is out there with all sorts of bent tones on a wild ride that always comes back to a perfect rhythm. The music is a little off center but right on time. It travels to outer space exploring new possibilities. A single note falls out of a clever reed and skips over triplets for an experimental ride that oddly but perfectly expands possibility. Inspiring and refreshing. That was Erik. His term for it was, “Shang a Lang”.
On my way to Heathrow to catch my flight I switched trains twice on the tube before meeting Kylie with the Saxophone. She spent the morning digging it out so I could bring it back home as a carry on. With watery eyes she passed it my way. I asked if it was ok. She said it was. I felt her emotion to be part of the process of letting go and moving on. I assured her I would take care of it and keep it in the archives. For me it’s a powerful symbol and an appropriate one at that. After all these years what are the odds that Erik’s Saxophone would arrive in my hands as I stand in a position of realignment. What timing…….

A Few Images From London







September 2, 2014

Two Nights In London Then Home - A Few Thoughts


I'm writing this post on the train from Truro to London. I’m paying 3 x more to ride the train than the bus because the train is so much nicer. In the UK trains are generally overpriced unless you get lucky or buy your ticket way in advance. I got a barely acceptable price on an advance purchase so it’s more for luxury than anything. Busses are cheap but can take twice the time, if not longer, and are inconsistent in quality. The bus will get you to where you want to go, eventually.

I’m happy to have taken on and to have done my proposed hike along the South West Coast Path but it wasn’t quite the experience I was hoping for. In part I think it was due to the fact that I had already been traveling for a awhile. It’s as if I kind of stayed a little too long at the party to really appreciate the walk as much as I should have. One real distraction, while hiking, were lots of the villages and towns along the way. It’s not that they aren’t lovely and nice it’s just that they were so packed with tourists. It was nearly impossible not to be an ear shot away from some screaming kid having a meltdown. Some places I couldn’t get out of fast enough. Also, there were lots of day walkers along certain stretches of trail which added to more distraction. Meditative and reflective moments were often interrupted with a step to the side or a barking dog that should really be on a leash. Everyone’s kid and dog is and angel in the parents eyes yet an obstacle to the passerby. By the end of the walk I vowed never again to travel in Europe during July and August unless I have good reason to do so. The best time to travel in the UK and Europe is mid-May/late June, or, September/October. I once spent 2 weeks hiking along the Welsh coast during late April and May with hardly seeing anyone. The villages were a treat and nothing was overbooked if I desired a B&B.
Right now I am really ready to go home. With all of the uncertainty and crazy stuff going on in the world it will be nice to be back in the USA. America really is geographically removed from most all of the world’s problems. American's love Canada even though some Canadians don’t think too favorably of the USA. The problems with Central America revolve around drug cartels. The only real political problems between South America and the USA are with Venezuela. Cuba is the odd one. Kind of an old issue that just can’t be dropped until Fidel Castro passes away.

What’s happening in the Middle East is truly scary and having been to Israel and Jordan it makes me even more aware of the uncertainties within the region. The Arab Spring turned out to be an autumn. The West really needs to be objective about the whole situation and realize that people in Arab world have customs and ways of thinking that are profoundly different. Whereas I believe most of the Arab Muslim people want nothing more than to live a good life and avoid any kind of conflict there is an element within the population that embraces radical ideology with a warrior mentality that the West has a hard time believing really exists. Look at where the West was 100 or 200 years ago. Look at what happened in Germany during WW2 and look at where Germany is now. Different societies are at different stages of cultural evolution in my opinion. Be very skeptical, discerning, and open to all sides of an issue before coming up with any conclusions. The problems of the Middle East are very complicated. Is Peace possible? I’d say maybe but not likely in the near future. It could take a couple of more generations. Until the violence stops and people behave humanely in an honest fashion there will be problems. Right now things are getting worse. And to think, it’s all in the name of God. How much more crazy can things get?
Anyway, the Middle East has been on my mind quite a bit so that’s why I addressed it in this post.

In the meantime it’s 2 nights in London then I’m homeward bound. Back to Texas, the Lone Star State.

Done - 300+ Miles - 20 Days - South West Coast Path


Zennor turned out to be nice stop. The  B&B was kind of quirky but nice and run by a an older hippy woman with a variety of funky vehicles parked around. Breakfast was healthy as she only served vegetarian.

From Zennor I planned to walk a short day to St Ives. I’ve been to St Ives before and recalled a nice campground. I figured I’d pitch camp early and spend the afternoon on the beach. Well, the campground turned out to be way overpriced at 15 pounds (26 USD for a walker with a one man tent). Normal price in England would be 3 pound on the low end with 10 at the top end). We are talking about a plot in an open field with access to a shower and toilet. Nothing fancy. No electricity assigned site or anything like that. The guy at reception was not very nice when I stated that I was on foot with a one man tent and if he was sure that was the right price. He responded in a true “Smart Ass” fashion that I didn’t have to pay it and wouldn’t find anything better in St Ives. Needless to say, I left.
I continued through St Ives and was glad I decided to pass through. There were too many tourists and the place really wasn’t very appealing to me. A little beyond St Ives is Carbis Bay. It’s a nice baech with not too many people. I asked around and found a nearby farm camp with basic facilities for 6 pounds. I pitced camp, went to the beach, and found a pint at a pub.

Carbis to Portreath was a nice walk that included an interesting section through sand dunes follosed by easy cliff top walking. The village of Portreath is not overly appealing with old but not very old plain styled buildings. It’s kind of a worn out fishing village but the harbor and beach aren’t bad. I noticed a small church and got permission to camp on the back lawn for the night.
The hike from Portreath to Perronporth marked my 20th and last day of hiking. The stretch of trail includes some wonderful ciff top walking but the weather was pretty bad with plenty of rain, mist and clouds. Occasionaly views revealed a wild sea bashing into rocky broken cliffs. Sometimes the water would make odds sounds not too unlike barking. At on small isolated cove large waves broke close to the shore with high tide and red flag flying. Only a person without a brain would be foolish enough to go in for a swim.

I made it into Perranporth by early afternoon and had a celbratory pint for completion of over 300 miles in 20 days. It's a good accomplishment and pretty much par for such a distance walk. The last three days of hiking felt a lot easier. I think it just took me a longer time to get to the point where 15+ miles with a heavy pack would feel relatively normal. The only consistent complaint I had was sore feet. I never got any blisters or anything but there was a consistent soreness on the bottoms of my feet that just wouldn't go away.
As expected the time really flew by. In the end 20 days of hiking really doesn’t seem very long even though on the 2nd and 3rd day, with my pack feeling like a real burden, it felt like it was going to be a long walk.

From Perranporth I took a bus to Truro and found accommodation via Tourist Information. At first tourist information didn’t have much to offer and what they had was too expensive. I kept subtlety pushing the issue with the attendant not seeming to want to put out too much effort. With all official options exhausted she reached for an address book from a drawer and made a call. She stated there was a room in a house that was not an official B&B that had a room. It was not registered with tourist information but she gave me directions with an address. The price was exactly what I wanted to pay.
Just to the side of the old town cathedral is a row of houses. I knocked on the green door with a number 3 and was greeted by a very nice older lady. She didn’t offer breakfast but showed me to the room. The place was very clean and quiet. For me it was perfect and very comfortable. The home was definitely set for guests and my room, like most all accommodation in Europe, had a kettle for boiling water and supplies for making coffee or tea. I made a cup of coffee.

I left the path with about 200 miles left to complete the entirety of 630 miles. Too be continued sometime in the future.