The Hero's Journey: Inspiration for the RISE Philosophy

Without Return

            It’s been six months since the tour has ended and five months since I have been home.  Without wasting a moment, I hit the ground running.  The first morning I woke up back in my own bed, I was off.  Made breakfast, grabbed my bike and set sail in search of a job.  I had been in touch with old work associates and bosses from the days with the city.  It wasn’t what I wanted to go back to.  Our hope was to raise enough money on the road to work on the film and books for at least half the year.  That didn’t happen, obviously.  RISE made just enough to complete the tour and get us back home-with a tiny bit of change left over.  Despite my pre-tour feeling, going back to the city was a safe bet. 

            Safe bets aren’t always the right way…then again, is there a right way?  Some presume.  These days, I don’t want to be one of those people.  The tour taught me that much.   Homecoming was interesting.  It drudged up a lot of emotional content that was very much apart of the shadow side of my ego.   What I mean was, the victim aspect of said ego was quit disappointed in turn out.  I know, poor little me, always the victim.  In truth, the people that I shared space with in the two weeks after my arrival were the ones I was supposed to spend time with.  Now, I’m not saying it was preordained, but life is one big divine sonnet being sung into existence.    

            Truth be told, the only thing to be expected was that life would be different.  Of course I changed while out on the road, but so did everyone else.  Did I really believe that people looked at me as some kind of hero, anticipating my return with the intention for a grand parade?  Get real.  No one cares.  I was just a man living my life.  All those I left behind, well, that’s all they were doing.   I can’t speak for anyone else, and I don’t want to be the asshole assuming.  I’ve played that part before, and I’m sure I’ll do it again; today, I chose a different role.  I’ll just tell you about Thomas Brown, and the man who returned home to phoenix.

            People ask me, “How was the tour?”  To be honest, answering that question is the most difficult task in the process of the journey.   How do I explain it?  How do I emote how the experience has changed me?  At this space and time, it seems much too impossible of a feat to attempt.  So I stare blankly at people, while fumbling over my words. It’s frustrating, because I do want to share.  I need to share.  I don’t want to wait for a probable future speaking engagement.  I don’t want to wait to put it into a book that someone may or may not read.  I want to share its personal truth with the people I know. 

            It is because of this inability to share, that I must admit, has created a dramatic disconnect between what I have known as friends and myself.  I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is this intensity that continues to flow through me.  The world that I walk through, the world that I see is completely different from the world I knew on Saturday, February 25^th, 2012.  The answer is simple, the world I walk through…the world I see…it is different, simply, because I am different.

            I recently spoke with a friend I met while on the road.  Stephanie Sammuels, our New Jersey Jewish mother, and now the patron saint of RISE travelers, filled me in on her perspective of who Thomas seems to be.  She told me, while I was staying with her and her family, that I had that 100-yard stare.  Though physically present, and polite, I was detached and focused.   Being thankful for the grace given to us by The Sammuels clan, yet not allowing myself to get to close.  The mission was still at hand.  I suppose she was right, and is still very correct.  I feel that demeanor is still very much a part of me.

            Somewhere, deep in my core, the road is still with me…the mission is still beating within me.  As I went dormant after my return in terms of RISE, it seems the dragon has awoke from its slumber.  I do have a mission; it is a mission without end.  It is a mission that may just be a lifestyle.  There is a path that I have ignored for far too long.  It is the path, my soul yearns for, but my ego has been too frightened to walk.  Frightened, because it is a path that will contain extreme moments of solitude. 

            This path was introduced to me when Marc died, but I lacked the courage to step away from the life I knew, no matter how toxic it was for me.   The road I walk is one of self reflection.  It is a path of humility and spiritual renewal.  It is no way a place of perfection or mastery; but a place eternal exploration and evolution.  Though I have an outline of the process, I understand the need for malleable flexibility.  RISE was the doorway to returning to this path that I ignored eleven years ago.  It is beyond the concept of suicide.  Suicide is just the symptom of a greater problem.  My path will run parallel with that larger issue.

            There is no projected outcome; there are only levels of growth.  Like a fractal, there is no true beginning as well as no end.  I don’t expect anyone to understand.  This blog post isn’t meant to lift a veil.  I’m not here to be a wise teacher.  My purpose is to play a part in the great drama of existence.  Anyone that may learn or be inspired through witnessing me, do with it what you will.  I promise to do the same.  I walk through this world as an equal to all I encounter.  I walk with purpose.  I walk to be a part of something great than I am, as I walk as myself.  No matter what happens tomorrow, I will walk…with the intention to never stray again.

My Heart is Her Drum Machine

          

            The RISE bicycle tour has come to an end.  Within the journey I have been blessed with the grace of others and experienced things far greater than what I could have imagines.  I have travelled through seemingly endless terrain that was a beautiful as it is diverse.   Zak and I engaged in countless heartfelt conversations with hundreds, if not thousands of people.  Our stay at COSM couldn’t have been more than the perfection it was.  Still eclipsing all that transpired, or more importantly, adding to the tour as a whole, was the chance to meet a truly enchanting soul: Sharon Stelluto, the Hospitality Manager at COSM.

            I have to tip my hat and show my greatest appreciation and gratitude to Brad Burge of M.A.P.S. (The Multidisciplinary Association of Psychedelic Studies) who was the gatekeeper that introduced us to COSM via Allyson Grey.  Without his support and willingness to vouch for us, things might have ended differently.  No need to invent imaginary scenarios.  Things happened just as they were meant to.  After a few interactions with Allyson by way of email, she connected me with Sharon to continue a dialog and updates as Zak and I travelled across the country.

            We didn’t talk much, perhaps once a month or every three weeks; every communication was very professional and to the point.  Before we entered Manhattan, I emailed Sharon, expressing my desire to talk with her on the phone and discuss our arrival on the final day of tour, as we have done this with all our contacts.  In my mind, it was a conversation that should only take five to ten minutes.  When we did finally talk, we did only spend that five to ten minutes talking about our arrival, but for the next hour or hour and a half we just talked.  The conversation didn’t even begin till after 6pm at night.  I was in the room given to me for my stay in Manhattan, and she was still in the COSM office building.

By the time we decided to end the conversation and go back to our separate worlds, I was dumbfounded.  I didn’t want to hang up.  I wanted to continue to talk to her and learn more about who Sharon is.  She was so easy to talk to…so familiar.  During the remainder of my time in Manhattan and Sparkill, I found my thoughts drifting more and more to Sharon.  Here I was, at the edge of finishing this monumental journey, about to ride my bicycle to the visionary community of one of my inspirations, and all I could think about was this woman who I didn’t know.  We’ll I didn’t know her this lifetime, that’s for damn sure.

As the final morning arrived, I was filled with so many mixed emotions.  This is what Zak and I have worked so hard for, for so damn long.  I wanted to hold onto it, yet I knew it needed to be let go.  In the back of my mind, Sharon was there.  As the day of riding progressed, she moved closer to the forefront of my mind.  Who was this person?  Why now, here at the end.  It felt like a powerful gravitational pull, but with no way to explain it’s reason or purpose. 

Arriving at COSM, my anticipation only intensified.  Not to be annoyingly redundant, but who was the woman who belonged to that voice.  It was about time to find out.  Riding up to the top of the hill, I was blown away by an unexpected visit.  My mother was flown in by our New Jersey contact, Stephanie Samuels.  As I mentioned in my previous blog, my mother had been sick and rushed to the hospital not long before this final day.  I had been extremely worried about her condition and health.  To see her there was a shocking and blessed surprise. 

As much as I wanted to finally meet Sharon Stelluto, I was swept away by an emotional tempest.  I lost it.  I cried so damn hard, my mother walked over to me and embraced me. And we stood there and just hugged.  I know how special this journey Zak and I embarked on was for her, as it was for so many.  Crying like a little baby who wants her/his binky in front of a woman that has captivated you is usually a resounding “NO NO” in the unwritten rule of Man Code.  Sharon was witness to this powerful moment between mother and son, a moment I was grateful to have shared with her. 

After the family departed, allowing Zak and I a tour of COSM by Sharon, I couldn’t help but feel so comfortable in her presence.  Sharing space with her and talking felt so familiar, as if we had known each other for years.  This was surprising, and frustrating, as my time at COSM continued, ifelt as if the hospitality manager was avoiding me.  It was a paradoxical scenario, unless I was reading her wrong, I wasn’t getting an uneasy creepy vibe.  Quit the contrary, she expressed in her smile and body language, that she enjoyed my presence just as much as I enjoyed hers. Still, she was elusive.  Come to find, there was a reason for her conflicting behavior, but that explanation is for another time and medium.

During the time that I did spend with Sharon, I discovered that she is a phenomenal painter.  Go figure…she does work at COSM after all.  In the dining hall is a beautiful painting of a rose that I wanted to take home.  As soon as I discovered it was hers, I knew I had a way to pull out my creeper card and get the extra time I wanted with her…to talk.  I asked Sharon if she would be up for an interview for our RISE tour documentary.  We could discuss COSM, our arrival from her point of view, and her passion for painting.  To my delight, she agreed to the interview.

During the interview, I couldn’t help but be an open book to her.  Not so much with words, but with my energy.  I guess it showed too.  Later she told me I she could see what I was feeling just by the way I was looking at her.  I couldn’t help myself.  In such a short order, and without knowing…I was smitten by this woman. After the interview, I gave her my RISE necklace.  I had been wearing the necklace since Austin.  I must admit, I gave the necklace I started with to someone who also made an impact on me, but this was different.  This necklace was saturated in a deep development of my personal transformation, and when I gave it to her, it was like giving her a very powerful piece of myself.  We then shared in a very long hug that I did not want to part from.

Before Zak and I left, Sharon and Haya (another COSM homie/my spiritual sista from anotha motha) joined us in our RISE tradition…the scattering of Marc’s ashes.  Sharon helped me with a picture that I have taken in so many places across this country.  With some of Marc’s ashes in my hand, I held them up to the sculpture “Altered States” the future site for The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors.  I circled the sculpture as I scattered the ashes.  Besides Zak, there have only been three others that have shared that space with me the entire way.  Having Sharon there to act as witness…once again made this final tour scattering so much more beautiful and relevant. 

The four of us (Sharon, Haya, Zak, & I) said our goodbyes as we parted ways.  Zak and I had to head to East Stroudsburg, PA to speak at the University the next day.  Though we had to, I didn’t want to leave.  I hadn’t spent enough time with her; I wanted to know more about that pull.  As we headed down the driveway, I was left aching feeling…as if I was being torn from my home without consent.  The morning after our speaking engagement at East Stroudsburg University, Zak and I parted ways.  He was heading to Philly to catch a flight back to phoenix, and I was heading to Illinois to visit an old friend.  Still thinking about my short lived time with Sharon, driving through the state of Pennsylvania, the universe it seems, did not want me to forget.

For One Hundred and Fifty miles, every five to seven miles, the mile signs were speaking to me.  As I traveled further away from the wonderful Hospitality Manger of COSM, I was wandering closer to the small town of Sharon, PA.  It was one of those synchronistic gut punches that demand your attention.  Over and over again, her name was thrown into my face.  It’s as if she was calling out to me.  I couldn’t resist any longer.  If I didn’t have a schedule to keep, I would have turned around.  I didn’t, but I’d be damned if I was gonna ignore this pull.  I was gonna investigate this…I needed to. 

A lot of people like to talk about the concept of logic.  I sure am one to espouse the comfort of such rational thought.  If it is one thing I learned from the tour, one true and honest universal truth…is that paradox rules supreme.  Like everything else, logic is relative.  I’m sure there are many, who will disagree, but like paradox, they are both correct and incorrect…just depends on the vantage point.  I know, sometimes I sound like a dog chasing my tail (wait…sounds?). 

Sharon lives 2,510 miles from me, door to door.  Where is the logic in sustaining an intimate relationship in that situation?  Then again, where is the logic in quitting my job in the midst of a terrible economy to ride a bicycle over 7,000 miles with only %5 of the budget secured?  Traveling across this country at the pace of a bicycle reminded me of the magical power of will.  The human spirit is an amazing thing, with infinite potential.  I’m not going to sit here and convey in type that I know what is meant for Sharon and I.  All I do know, there is a magic between us.  Each day is another chance to learn from one other.

Since I have left COSM, we have continued in discovering the potential of our connection via, facebook, phone, and skype.  We have already had one visit, and are looking forward to more.  All we have is that sacred moment that is the big “NOW”.  Sure we have intentions, hopes, and desires; still, there is no promise of a future.  We take it day by day, and learn what we can with the tools at our disposal.  I know one thing is for sure…Sharon Stelluto sets me ablaze in dramatic fashion.  I have never met anyone quit like her.  I don’t know what is down the road for the two of us, but we have an intention.  In this moment, we walk with respect, compassion, and a willingness to explore and understand.  I look with great anticipation where this road will lead us without judgment or attachment.  I am eternally grateful to have entered her life, as she has entered mine.  What ever comes next…well, we will have to live and see.

4 8 15 16 23 42: COSM is the Island

I know…it’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything written.  I meant to get this out shortly after leaving COSM, but the gravity in ending the tour and the road home was a dramatic fall into mental entropy.  A more in depth blog on that journey will…should be posted at a later time.  And now…COSM!

The Arrival

It could’ve been labeled a day like any other.  I’m sure for many it was, but for me, there was nothing usual about this seemingly typical day.  It was the final day of riding on the RISE bicycle tour…it was the Day that we arrive at The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors…It was journeys end.  Like that first day of tour seven months earlier, the morning was charged with a palpable energy.   Still, the setting was very different.  We had a bright and sunny day hanging over our heads.  The air was cool with a subtly warm overtone.  No rain or wind to slow us down.  The weight of the road ahead was now nothing more than a memory of those who lead our way to this moment…our final push.  Thirteen months of preparation and seven months of a nomadic life had lead to this last day. 

Though Zak and I have travelled this path on our bicycles alone, we were never truly by ourselves.  This day was no different.  Driving all the way from Piscataway, NJ was Officer Crisafulli & Detective Ritter, who would escort us for the final 50 miles of our 7,000 mile journey.  We have Stephanie Samuels, our New Jersey mother (and therapist) to thank for this support.  We set off from Sparkill, NY where we spent a few days with Kit Lucas, one of the first survivors of suicide to write a book on the subject.  Crisafulli & Ritter followed behind as Zak and I took turns riding and driving the support vehicle.  Once we were 15 miles out, Det. Ritter took over driving the truck so that Zak and I could end side by side.

                         

As we arrived at the front end of the property we took time to take pictures at the entrance sign of COSM.  Once we finished, Crisafulli & Ritter headed up the hill giving us those final 200 yards to ourselves.  Zak allowed me to set the tone, which was even slower than my standard turtle pace.  As we approached, Standing at the last bend was Stephanie’s two daughters waving signs.  Once we passed them, I saw two people at a distance I couldn’t place.  Probably due to the sad truth that I need glasses.  Closer I realized it was my Uncle Roger and Aunt Dorothy from Hornell, NY.  The first words that popped out of my mouth…”What the Fuck?”  I was glad to see them, but how are they here.

Reaching the end atop the hill on the property of COSM, I scanned the small group of folk who massed:  Stephanie and her family, Officer Crisafulli & Detective Ritter, Zak’s fiancée Brandalyn (Another what the fuck moment in my mind), Sharon the hospitality manager of COSM, and my mother (a monumental Holy Fuck moment).  Now Sharon has a beautiful interpretation as a witness of this entire moment, all I have is a feeling.  I’ll do my best to describe. 

The best way to poetically express how I reacted to seeing my mother, simply put…I lost my shit.  I went from an exhausted excitement to utter surprise and emotional breakdown.  A month earlier, my mother was in the hospital for an exploratory surgery due to health complications.  It was three weeks before she was strong enough to leave the house.  My father was so distraught that I had to send my friend Shawn to get clearer information for me.  My biggest fear since Marc has died has been the frightening realization that I will have to burry my parents without my big brother.  Seeing my Mother knowing she had only been on her feet for a week, released a lot of that fear I had held for the last month of tour.  Combine that with the intensity of journey’s end, could you blame me for crying like a schoolgirl who just skinned her knee?  Ok, don’t answer that.

Why COSM

Many people ask how we connect suicide to the healing power of artistic expression.  Furthermore, why COSM as journey’s end?  Stuffing concepts & philosophies into a neat little packaged box isn’t a rarity.  Art isn’t an acceptation to this culturally oppressive rule.  Most often, when someone thinks of art, their mind pictures a photograph, painting, poetry, music, etc.  Why stop there, I don’t.  To confine a concept or philosophy in a box of rules is yet another desperate attempt of humanity to control.  To control is to segregate and limit infinite potential on any said concept or philosophy, creating a limitation on Art and expression is not only unnecessary, it is profane.  The human experience is an ever transforming and evolving masterpiece of art.

Our lives are art in constant process.  We have the ability to create a life that suites our heart and soul.  While we do lack, for the most part, the control of what comes at us…we do hold the power to control how we react to any given situation.   I’ve heard all too often, “How does art help me?  I’m not creative.”  Maybe you aren’t a photographer or a painter, but you can at the very least make a decision about what life you want to live.  Can’t you?   If your life was a canvas, then your choices and decisions are your pallet of colors to play with.  It’s actually surprising that this concept is new, foreign, or vacant from ones daily thought process.

I can’t take full responsibility of this philosophy; all I can do is take responsibility for my interpretation and expressive action of said philosophy.  The primary influence of this concept has been Alex Grey and the work he is doing with his wife Allyson at The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors (COSM).  The day After Christmas in 2007, I discovered Alex’s book, “The Mission of Art”.  The moment I purchased this book, I was completely unaware of its purpose & power or how it would play in the equation of influence for my worldview and action.  In this book, Alex talks about the great potential of artistic expression as a vehicle to making a better world.  He explains how art is an aspect of the divine that we all hold within us.  After time and effort, every person can cultivate that infinite power.

 

My brother’s death transformed my world in a dramatic way, and for a time, I was on a path that only leads to catastrophe.  Alex’s philosophy, among a few others was the inspiration that shined a light onto the road I now walk.  I couldn’t stop my brother’s suicide, but I do have the power to allow it to influence me for whatever purpose I choose.  At the very beginning, with the conception of RISE, COSM was the obvious choice for an ending to the tour.

The Experience

It’s safe to say, that outside of Alex, his art, and philosophy, I had no idea what to expect from COSM.  I have to admit, I didn’t do my homework on everything that was being done.  It didn’t matter much.  There was no need to be a blatant fanboy about it all.  COSM as an ending point was more about the symbolism of transcendence via creativity.  As I travelled the country, I began to see visions of a place where people could gather in community.  A property that is self sustained, where artists can create openly, where the wounded can find tools to heal themselves and others.  In many ways, COSM has been a reflection to this vision. Or at least a starting point.

On the day of our arrival, the visionary permaculture class was ending its week long summer session.  Lead by Delvin Solkinson, the Grey’s are working on making the land which COSM rests on much more sustainable for energy and food production.  The obviousness of this practice is to illicit more freedom by being a bit more self-reliant.  This is essential in any community or individual harvesting a lifestyle that is more conducive for self sovereignty. 

COSM’s hospitality manager, Sharon Stelluto gave Zak and I a quick tour of the house once our family left…allowing us to settle in.  The house, which is where guests, volunteers, and staff live, is also the primary site for most of the COSM events.  The building is a brilliant three story Victorian house.  The main hall acts as a gallery, library, and event venue.  The old renovated home is saturated with faint smell of the forest outside and the wood that is its skin.  The floor creaked and cracked with every step, always announcing ones arrival with a loud declaration.

I had a long conversation with Sharon once we had arrived to Manhattan, about a week before our arrival to COSM.  We wanted to go over the final day of our tour and the expectations of our visit.  One of the stipulations was to donate our time at the community with chore duty for a few free nights stay.  Sweeping floors, hauling chairs, and cleaning bathrooms was the least I could do for food and many a good nights rest at journey’s end.  Besides, I met some amazing & interesting individuals while contributing to the community, which would continue well into the Full Moon Ceremony on the evening of September 29^th.

Before the Full Moon Ceremony, I had the pleasure of sitting in on a workshop with a shaman, Rafael Bejarano, a multi-cultural ritualist, musician, artist & cultural educator.  Rafael was masterful at simplifying EVERYTHING, and doing so with savvy sense of humor.  The man electrified me when he spoke.  Not that his concepts were anything new.  As it were, I only heard the whisper of my thoughts repeated back to me.  I can’t speak for anyone else in how they experienced Rafael, but it felt as if every word he uttered was transcript of my mind.   The workshop with Rafael was profound to say the least, he offered an even greater gift to me:  during his musical performance of his teachings, he blessed the remaining ashes of my brother.  He placed them at the center of his alter and played his didgeridoo over them.

With two hundred people crammed into the main hall, the full moon ceremony began with Alex & Allyson giving a sermon about the spiritual path that is creative expression.  They handed it over to Rafael, who played more from his hand crafted flutes and didgeridoo.   Many Other amazing acts followed which entertained, informed, and mesmerized the guests in this fantastic event:  readings from a book about synchronicity to updates on the permaculture class at COSM. The crowd was blessed with music from folk singers, singing bowl meditation, and participating in an om session that shook the walls.

RISE was given the last guest spot and ten minutes to speak with the crowd about our seven month journey.  Zak and I didn’t do a pregame talk about how we were gonna flow.  He arrived with his fiancé and I was still running around helping set up.  It didn’t help that we sat on opposites sides of the room either.  The seven months of speaking engagements was felt.  We shared our stories effortlessly and surprisingly were able to condense our travels to the time allowed and still resonated with crowed.  Once the ceremony was finished, Zak headed out to spend extra time with his beloved fiancés, and I stayed back to mingle and partake in the rest of the full moon festivities.  The evening ended with those remaining meeting in the dinning hall, joining hands, and howling at the moon.  The Tour had come to an end.

Looking Back

            You ever seen the television show LOST?  That’s how I usually start out the conversation when attempting to explain COSM.  If a person’s reply to my question is no, I give a sigh (which mean I whisper “fuck” in my mind) and I give the best generic description I can muster.  For those of you that would answer “Yes”, allow my simple but to the point description:  COSM is the Island.  While there isn’t a smoke monster that acts as sentry to the perimeter of the property, there is a benevolent force.  Though I never heard stories of a man that was miraculously able to walk after years of being confined to a wheelchair, there is a magic that flows through the land.  

            There is so much that seems to draw a wide and eclectic range of people to the property.  Most of the time it is the Greys and their philosophy, which is the mission of COSM.  Others, without knowing it, could be drawn by the land itself; and the Greys being the simple tool to do this.  The second thought is a bit of a cute and abstract romanticized idea, but what else would expect.  As long as you’re not one of the worshiping fans, with a moderate grip on reality (which I feel I am), there is a gravitational pull that makes it hard to leave.  (For those of you who know my real story for not wanting to leave…that blogs coming soon.)

            As much love as I have for the community, property, and mission of COSM, I am not blind to its dramatic and obvious dysfunction.  The community is still operated by human beings, and as we all know, humans are fallible and egocentric creatures.  I’m not going to go into all those details, it’s not my place, nor is it the time and format for such an ego driven critique.   In order to have true love for someone, place, or thing…you’ve gotta love its faults too. 

            Like the Island, it exudes a mysterious sense of refuge to so many who seek community.  Many who are marginalized outsiders find a sanctuary for much needed respite.  It feels like home to so many outcast, that many people forget there is an “hours of operation”.  You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.  Being able to walk the grounds and lend my own two hands for the community has given me further articulation of what our contemporary society may be lacking.  COSM isn’t the answer, it has it’s own mission, but it is a beautiful place filled with potential, hope, and promise.  For me…at the heart, it was an introduction.

              On our final day, before we left, I had one last mission.  As I had done along the 7,000 mile journey, I needed to spread my Marc's ashes on the grounds.  The location I chose was the future site for the actual building, The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors.  The sculpture that holds space for the Chapel is called "Altered States".  Marc and the RISE tour are forever a part of the ground known as COSM.

To Learn more about Kate Raudenbusch, The artist behind "Altered States"  visit her website 

kateraudenbush.com

To learn more about Rafael or Cosm, visit the links below.

Rafael Bejarano

The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors

Alex Grey

Allyson Grey

Websites for Delvin Solkinson  

Gaia Craft

Crystal and Spore

Heart Gardens

It seem so cliché to attach a TooL song to this blog.  Then again, how could I not?

My Dark Wilderness of Blinding Light

           

           The RISE journey is coming to an end.  Everyday we move closer to COSM: The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors.  As the scenery has changed, expectedly, so have I.  In the beginning, I was so amped.  Filled with adrenaline, excitement, and the wonder of the infinite possibility that awaited me.  Each new day I reveled at the American landscape, and I have marveled at its amazing diversity.  As the countryside changed, so did the season as did the culture.  It has been a blessing to be a witness to this land I have known as home.  As everything has been in a constant state of metamorphosis that I am now accustomed too, I have become aware of the most important change:  The revolution within.

            Allowing the constant change of the outer world to become the norm, I am no longer as distracted by it as I have been for so many months.  This has allowed the appropriate space in my mind to take the leap inward.  For the past three or four weeks, I have finally reached the point of welcoming the silence.  It is still quit unsettling, and takes time to relax into.  It also brings a new layer to the tour itself.  I have kept to myself as much as I possibly can.  Sure, I fall into old habits and continue to distract myself.  Scanning the Internet, looking for people to talk to on the Facenet, or watching old episodes of LOST.  As time begins to move on, I am taking the time to go for walks.  During most of these walks, I have also refrained form listening to my ipod.  Just take a stroll and allow myself to integrate the ambiance of what ever may be in the environment.

            This has allowed me to have more conversations with myself.  Asking those tough question and peal away those layers that hide my many paradoxical truths.  Its not always the most fun or entertaining exercise.  Truth be told, it can be down right frightening.  The more I peal away, the more questions I ask, I begin to realize a simple truth…there are no definitive answers.  There is only the feeling of flow.  I know you’d like to have a more thorough explanation.  I don’t have one.  How does one explain an abstract?  There seems to be no sufficient language for feelings, only a feeble attempt for understanding.   If you need a better description, I would ask you to think of gravity, or to watch a flowing river.  Sit in silence and just observe it as it is:  the water, the rocks within and on the banks, and the life that dwells with the flow.  Watch every aspect and how it all interacts.

            As humans in an industrialized world, we have become so hardwired for stimulation.  We are constantly searching for gratification of the pleasure centers in our brains, that we have become distracted.  Maybe it’s just me, and it is my issue alone, but it’s as if we have lost the connection of self and the divinity of the living moment.  The journey inward takes time, attention, and courage to let go of attachment.   The path can be a dark, cold, and murky wilderness, but there is a silver lining.  The light is just above the dense canopy.  It splinters between each massive tree and thick brush to show the way.  The way isn’t a universal map.  It is dramatically different for each and every one of us, but its there nonetheless.

It has taken five to six months to transition into this new method on this journey, and as the tour winds down, soon I will have more time for solitude and self reflection.  This is a process that I do not intend to rush.  My journey home is still one that is in constant motion, and I am not married to anyone way on how to go about it.  I am willing to take what comes at me, what ever that is.  While I have many ideas, I am allowing myself to be without schedule and up for what ever change the flow decides for me.  All I can do is initiate the navigational coordinates of my intention, and through the power of will, I will be taken where I need to be. 

Worlds Collide

As long as I can remember, I have been accused of over thinking.  All too often I allow the supposed rational logical perception of my mind to over analyze a situation or subject to no end.  My simple human mind desperately fights for understanding.  We all do it, I happen to be one of those individuals that have found myself in a self deprecating habit, when I dig to far down the rabbit hole, I make myself sick.  Sure, an analytical mind is needed for problem solving and innovation, but when emotions are swept up into the equation, it becomes volatile recipe.

I usually find myself in this self inflicted agony when thrusting into the maze of mind while contemplating the matters of my heart.  I seem to have found myself near the edge of the very tempest of said confusion.  Why haven’t I fallen in, to be emotionally swept away into the madness?  History.  At long last I feel I may be learning something from my past.  Time will tell, but at this moment in time I still have my feet firmly planted beneath me.

What is the meaning for all this confusion?  What clutter of thoughts has my mind all jammed up?  Not to sound cliché or simply submit to some age old archetype, but when a heterosexual male usually finds himself twisted and contorted mental or emotionally, its usually a safe bet that a woman isn’t far behind.   It’s not what you think.  Having ones mind congested isn’t always a bad thing.  In fact, the answer I would be searching for has already revealed itself to me, and continues to do so.  I’ll get back to that in a moment.  I sense you would like finer detail.  You want the meat and potatoes.  I get it…no one likes to be jerked around.

What is the source for all my confusion…well, it’s me.  The inspiration for the source is a woman who I am quit fond of.   Her name is Jessica, the woman who took us in for almost a week while we stayed in Austin, TX.  As I have mentioned before(in an earlier blog), I met her briefly six years earlier.  I was extremely intrigued, but was dating another woman.  The depth of my intrigue was so great, I knew I would surely brew up trouble if I followed my curiosity, so I never perused even in friendship. 

Time turns, and as it does, it tend to bring up things from the past.  For whatever reason, this time around there was no excuse to disengage.  Upon my arrival to her home, my intrigue once again was in abundance.  She was easy to talk to and talk we did.  We resonate on many levels in the human experience.  Love, artistic self expression, passion for the world and it’s inhabitants, and with a gentleness and compassion that leaves space and desire to understand that which is foreign to us.

You might be asking yourself, “what’s the problem?’  Well, despite our many similarities, there is one dramatic rift.  A divide that is much too wide to reconcile, while we both stand at opposite ends of the spectrum.  The issue:  I am into monogamous paring, while Jessica is very much into Polyamory.   Still wondering why I am confused?  Yeah…so am I.  Its not really confusion as it is acceptance…or lack there of.  We are both very fond of one another, but there is no way for it to work.  In the end, the differences of our needs are far to vast.  Though I must admit, I did delve into the idea of a polyamory lifestyle.  My conclusion?  Well…it’s just not me.  Not at this moment in time.

  Sure, I’ve had my share of conditioning in this life.  Being monogamous wasn’t an issue my initial programming.  Need more…this isn’t the venue for painstaking detail, so I’ll keep it simple.   Polyamory doesn’t compute in my operating system.  First, I have my own strange idea about vulnerability.  I don’t see myself capable of being %100 vulnerable with another human being if I have plan B, C, D, & E waiting in the wing.  Second, who has the time…those who do…fantastic, but I don’t.  I’m a busy man out on a crusade…ok, not that busy.  You get the point.

Alas, the obviousness of the truth is so loud it is defining.  It had been there all along, only I chose to ignore it.  It’s what happens when you let those chemicals flow in the brain and run boldly into the oasis of emotions.  The honest truth:  There is no Jessica & Thomas romantic partnership.  Friends…yes, but not lovers…not anymore.  For me, Jessica was a part of the RISE tour, a very special aspect.  I will cherish my experience, and what I learned in the time that we had.  In this moment, that’s all there is left to do.  

No Direction But To Follow What You Know...

I have never been gone from the physical territory that I would call home.  The RISE tour is near the 6 month anniversary.  I am tired, my body it breaking down, and I’m emotionally drained.  I guess it would be safe to say that I am feeling a bit homesick.  The last cross country adventure I participated in, I had a love waiting for me back home.  This time it’s different.  Part of my heart resides in Austin, TX, but that’s another story for another time.  I like to joke around and say that all I really miss back home is the smell of my pillow.  Of course, that sentiment is a sad attempt at expressing my inner comedian.  Truth be told, there is far more about the place in the southwest that I call home.

To be totally honest, I do have a love/ hate relationship with the Phoenix area.  It’s far to spread out, and the transit system is brutally lacking.  There is a brewing culture of infuse art/activism, but it never felt as if it was interconnected.  Maybe it was just me.  Perhaps I was the one that disconnected.  I wouldn’t doubt that.  The more I did venture out of my cave as the RISE tour drew near, I began to discover what I felt I never had before, a community I truly call home.  As usual, completely segregated from on another.  With all my frustration for the city, it has such great potential.  Like each and every one of us, it’s a work in progress.

Outside of my personal opinions with the lay out of the city and its vast culture, I have those personal relationships that keep me very connected to the place.  For far too long I locked myself away from so many amazing people.  Sure I would surface from time to time & connect with people, but for the last 6 years it has been too few, and much to far between.  I always have some plan for the future, and I act like some dictator architect, not allowing anyone in my way.  To bad, I can’t stop myself from being the one in the way.  Sure, determination is needed to fulfill ones blissful goals, but balance is needed.  Balance was a foreign term to me.  As the RISE tour drew near, I relaxed enough to engage these amazing people that I love dearly. 

                                

       

If there is on place about home that I miss, it has to be Sedona and the surrounding Verde Valley.  When I finally created space, this Eden in the high desert provided sanctuary for me to heal and recharge.  Of all the places that I have been to in this country, there is no other that resonates so deeply with my soul.  It is a majestic landscape from red rocks to crystal clear streams, with some areas in the valley being covered with vineyards.  The culture vibes with new age healers, crazed artists, country folk, and metropolitan escapes convicts of corporate America. 

Like many others, I have discovered my connection to Sedona and the great Verde Valley.  Say what you will, but it may be the closest relationship that I have in Arizona.  The very thought of putting more distance between the high desert and me, brings an overwhelming anxiety.       

 Still, the time will come when I must move on.  Nothing is written in stone.  Perhaps I end up in Austin with Jessica, or by myself.  Maybe I’ll find myself in Portland.  Maybe the fates would be so gracious to have me land in Sedona.  The possibilities are endless.  The trick is to not fight the flow. 

No matter where I find myself, my heart will always swell with AZ love.  Arizona was my first home.  Sedona and the Verde Valley will always be my first love.  I won’t ever forget the experiences I’ve had and the moments that shaped me.  Born a desert rat, I was nurtured in the heat of the valley of the sun.  For as long as I live, I will be a sun worshiper.  This fact, I shall never forget.