Lovingly Present

Today is the tenth anniversary of Naomi’s death when she was nineteen years old. She is a touchstone for my life. Her spirit inspires me to live to the fullest with joy, and care for all living beings. At the cemetery, her mother, step-mother, uncle, a friend and I all gathered and laid roses on her grave, remembering her, and read passages from her journals. She had such remarkable strength and devotion, and was precocious as a child, starting her first diary when only eleven years old. Later, as she was struggling for her life, she wrote: Show up and be lovingly present, no matter what it looks like out there or inside of yourself. Always speak the truth of your heart. To read more of Naomi’s writings about life and death, go to: http://www.heartsand.com/journal.html
I am leaving for Thailand this Tuesday, July 7. I will be there for about two weeks, then go to Vietnam for another two weeks. I have friends in both countries, and I am considering moving to one or the other because the cost of living is low and quality of life is high. Here in the USA I am not earning enough as an artist because of a soured economy, and my cost of living is high, so that I am spending my savings. I am not worried, but neither am I stuck in a rut. I enjoy flux and trust that I can be homeless and happy . . . I can live where the wind takes me. I can be creative anywhere.
I recently finished a new art piece. It is a mixed media diptych on canvas attached to board. I used encaustic (hot wax) as a medium, and enjoy the process, although it is difficult getting a handle on it. The wax must be hot in order to be fluid, and as soon as it cools, which is immediately, it hardens and is impossible to work with. So I have to use a heat gun and hotplate to keep the process flowing. After I return from Asia, I will continue producing new work in this fashion and make a collection.

We Manifest Our World

It came as a shock to hear that Michael Jackson (August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009) died. Certainly, he was a giant among entertainers, and had millions of fans. Nonetheless, it is incredible the amount of attention that has been garnered by his death. It is as big a news event as any, and I dare say if a nuclear bomb went off somewhere in the world, it would not provoke any more news coverage.
Here is another story. Years ago, I was outdoors with my easel and paints, making a picture along a quiet road in Santa Fe when a man my age approached and struck up a conversation. He was an artist, and before he departed we arranged to see each other again and go painting together. Over time, we became good friends. Eventually he moved from Santa Fe with his young family and lived in Michigan before later moving to San Luis Obispo, California. Occasionally we met each other and always shared an easy ambience of artistic brotherhood.
Ken perhaps was the more bohemian, not caring much about money or fortune except for his family, enjoying good times when they came and indulging in marijuana and drink if it was available. The family seemed to live on the margins, but he remained a conscientious father and faithful husband. His daughters grew, while I lost my oldest, Naomi to cancer and eventually my second wife and I divorced when our daughter turned twenty.
Ken often confided his own discontent in marriage and ruminated about the life he wanted to live as a free spirit. Before he had married, he had led the life of a vagabond artist, bicycling around France, living in Paris and becoming fluent in French. In marriage, he barely managed to support the family from his meager earnings as a painter. In San Luis Obispo, his wife became the primary breadwinner as a school teacher.
About 1 week ago, Ken called and informed me that he and his wife was separating. I felt bad, but understood. He asked me for my new address and told me he wanted to send me a letter. A few days ago, I received a packet from Ken. I opened it and there were some newspaper clippings and his letter. I always enjoy Ken’s letters because he writes poignantly about his life and immediate experiences, and also adds a bit of philosophy.
He wrote about the difficulties of his separation, the family, his plan to go to France for a break, and then he wrote a sentence that did not make sense: “Naturally winning a million dollars is a good thing, but it has created a lot of headaches too.” I read on and he told me he hoped to relax and paint more in France, and that he had been playing golf. He closed by saying he hoped I was well and that maybe we could get together “one of these days.” I put the letter down and reached into the large envelope, pulling out the paper that was folded neatly in half. Imagine my shock when I saw that it was the front page of the San Luis Obispo newspaper with a picture of him beside the headline: LOCAL ARTIST WINS 1 MILLION DOLLARS. The article was titled, A Painterly Stroke of Luck, COLOR OSOS ARTIST RICH. The newspaper quoted Ken: "I think twice about going out to lunch. It's very rare that I spend money like that. I did not tell my wife because I didn't want her to know I had spent money on something so frivolous."
I am still incredulous. Of course I called Ken, and he explained that he had been reading a book called Ask And It Is Given, about how we manifest our world by the way we think, and around the same time, he saw an advertisement in the Los Angeles Times for a raffle to benefit a charitable arts organization. The price of a ticket was steep—one hundred and fifty dollars, but the prize was a house in Santa Barbara or 1 million dollars. Ken never gambled or entered lotteries, but for this time, he dug under his mattress and without telling his wife bought a ticket, thinking that he would win. And then a month later, he was announced the winner. “I was not surprised”, Ken told me.

Not Burned By Fire,

I find it fascinating that people are so wrapped up in the material world. It is as if life and its meaning depends on being comfortable. Then, the more wealth a person has, the happier they will be. For me, this is illusion. THE DREAM is where my treasure exists, and it will never be exhausted.
This is not to say that the material world does not matter. Recently a friend in Nairobi, Kenya sent me a text message asking if I could send her some money to see a doctor, and mentioning that she and her daughter had no food in their house. In those situations, it is more difficult to be philosophical. I often wonder how I would face the world in similar circumstances.
I think that the death of my daughter Naomi brought me to the state I am in now. During her final days, I felt that all the wealth in the world was only dust scattering in the wind. Deep down, I knew how remarkable was THE DREAM that continually unfolded and that I am privileged to witness. I saw in Naomi a being that had surpassed the physical, and in my book, A Heart Traced in Sand, I quoted these words from the Bhagavad-Gita:
The bonds of his flesh are broken.
He is lucky, and does not rejoice:
He is unlucky, and does not weep.
I call him illumined.

Not wounded by weapons,
Not burned by fire,
Not dried by the wind,
Not wetted by water;
Such is the Atman,

Not dried, not wetted,
Not burned, not wounded,
Innermost element,
Everywhere, always,
Being of beings,
Changeless, eternal,
Forever and ever.

Money

Last week I finished a painting and gave it the title, Hung up With Money. It seems that every human being on the planet is in relationship with money. Outwardly, money is simply paper or coins—not as attractive as nature, or useful as food or shelter, but money has perceived value that is trusted so that it can be bartered universally. In work, people provide services in exchange for money, and money can also be exchanged for gold. It has the perception of importance.
In THE DREAM, money has no importance. Experience is the only value and truth. I live in the THE DREAM, so money plays a secondary role. But I also live in society, and money is a primary component of almost all aspects of society. I feel compelled to be in relationship with money, and if not, then almost immediately, society exerts pressure to bring money to mind.
My painting represents the absurdity of money, society, human life and perceptions. The clothesline represents time and space, where everything hangs and is trapped. Flesh disintegrates and returns to dust after a century on "the timeline", but money does not. The newspaper is the Wall Street Journal, which is devoted to economics. The pen might be used for writing ideas related to money, and the half eaten apple represents feast or famine, opposite sides of one coin.
To see more of my HangUps, go to: http://www.stevenboone.com/main_pages/hangups.html

War and Peace

When I was a teenager, I engrossed myself in reading many of the world’s finest novels, and this formed a greater part of my education. During the summer of my eighteenth year, I read Leo Tolstoy’s epic story, War and Peace. One episode has lasted with me through the years. It is when one of the main characters, called Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, a dashing young lieutenant in the Tsar's army, is severely wounded in a battle with the French. Amid the carnage of the battlefield, Andrei has fallen with an almost fatal wound to his stomach and as he is bleeding in the grass, he gazes upward into the blue sky and sees lazy clouds drifting serenely above him. Suddenly he is struck how incongruous it all is. Amidst the mayhem and violence all around, and facing his own death, he nonetheless sees that the day is beautiful, and also notices the irony. And this is life on earth—beautiful and terrible both. The task is to always be mindful of the existence of each aspect, and remain positive always.

Success

“There is only one success - to be able to spend your life in your own way.”
Christopher Morley US author & journalist (1890 - 1957)
If this were a true statement, then some of the most inspiring people in history would have their accomplishments diminished. No, there is another, more important success: to overcome external circumstances through inner resourcefulness and the exercise of virtue. Would people know who Nelson Mandela is if he had not been a prisoner for 27 years and then emerged intact before becoming president of South Africa? Or what about the little man from India, Mahatma Gandhi, (2 October 1869 – 30 January 1948) who was the pioneer of satyagraha—resistance to tyranny through mass civil disobedience, firmly founded upon ahimsa or total non-violence—which led India to independence and inspired movements for civil rights and freedom across the world.
So we see that sometimes success is not about "spending life in your own way." Some souls prefer to be tested by external hardships so that they continue to grow from the inside, and thus prove that spirit can overcome matter.
A test for me these days has been my dearth of income. Yet I see it is what THE DREAM is giving me now, so I do not struggle so much as observe and take interest. I know that THE DREAM holds more than I can comprehend, and if I am faithful, I will be assisted and thrive. In fact my circumstances have been improving.

A Dazzling Celebration

Lately, when I wake in the morning, often I feel like I need help facing the day, so I say a prayer for assistance. Then, more often than not, little struggles ensue throughout the sunlight hours. It is not physical, since I almost never fall sick and I am in good health. But emotionally, when I face tasks, I am soon encumbered by disinterest. I wonder if I have been spoiled by my year of living dangerously, trekking with abandon across the globe on adventure after adventure. Also, the USA is not the same as when I left, and I feel life is collapsed inward. The economy is in shambles . . . and I have no income, so to speak. I am considering selling my possessions again, and moving to Asia, where I have friends and I can live for a fraction of the cost I am faced with now.
This morning I took a walk and flowers are in bloom everywhere. Flowers struggle too! First they must emerge from their dark, hard surroundings underground in their shell. Then they need sunlight, water and nutrients to feed their roots. They must not be stepped on or crushed. They are on a mission to grow to their full potential and create the flowers that make seeds that insure the survival of the species. They struggle against elemental opposition and when they succeed and bloom, a dazzling celebration ensues.
So too, must we as human beings, struggle against everything that would keep us from blooming, so that we may reach our potential and display to the world our own accomplishment of intelligence, talent, and virtue. The difference for us is that we can have a long life of blooming, and human blooming can occur under almost any circumstance. Sometimes, nobility is most pronounced under cruel circumstances. I think of my precious Naomi, when she was in pain and slowly dying. It drove me crazy with distress too watch, and although it was not my custom, sometimes I would leave her for a few moments and smoke a cigarette to relax and distract myself. I prayed all the time for her healing, but conditions worsened. Anyway, once, when I returned to Naomi’s side, she knew I had gone out to smoke, and she gently chided me, saying, “Dad, if you are anxious, just pray. We are stronger when we are happy.” In moments like those, I knew Naomi was so much more than her withering body . . . she was blooming like the fairest rose and nothing would fade its magnificent splendor.

Strange Scenario

This past week I traveled a road that I have never been on before. I printed one of my photographs on top of an abstract monoprint. (A monoprint is a painting that is made on plexiglass and then sent through a printing press. The pressure transfers the ink from the hard glass to the absorbent paper.) I then experimented with coatings and sent the print through my wide format ink jet printer and came up with something interesting that I can continue to work with.
Meanwhile, the economy is in such a slump that I have no income these days. My paintings, which usually sell briskly, are not selling, and my items brought back to the United States from abroad are only selling on the very low end; not enough to cover my expenses. I am in THE DREAM, and now it is presenting me with a strange scenario where I produce work but it goes unsold.
Another strange scenario is the plight of seven Baha’ís in Iran. They were arrested a year ago just for being Baha’ís, and have been imprisoned ever since. In the past, similar arrests have led to execution. There is so much that is dreadfully unfair about this. The seven have not been allowed to see lawyers and not been charged with any crime. An international protest is gaining momentum that certainly will eventually lead to changes for the betterment of Iran and the safeguarding of human rights everywhere else as well.

Pavlov's Dog

I have always needed openness to feel good. When I feel closed in or surrounded, I tend to get uncomfortable. Certainly there are many people who are my opposite and tend to need the comfort of familiar surroundings, and like being enveloped—and this is the wonder of humanity, that each being is unique and has special qualities all their own.
When I was a young man, I did not want to have a tie around my neck because it felt constricting. The ocean makes me nervous because it can swallow and eat me. There have been times when I have been in groups that demanded my involvement and unconsciously my body rebelled so that I felt nauseous or had to frequent the bathroom.
In work too, I can feel trapped, even by success; in my case, landscape painting. Repeated success combined with financial reward can lead to what I call “Pavlov Dog Syndrome.” Ivan Pavlov, (1849-1936) was a Russian scientist that made his famous discovery that dogs salivate before food reaches their mouths and that they learn by association to salivate even when a lab technician comes into view if they expect that the technician is going to feed them. In Pavlov’s experiment, the technicians always wore white lab coats and the dogs learned that people who wore white lab coats would feed them, so after awhile, they associated white lab coated people with being fed, and just the sight of them would make them salivate. So too, after repeated success selling certain types of artwork, an artist can become conditioned to “being fed” and even salivate at the thought of the food that is to come to his table when he produces more of what people like and will buy. For me, this is claustrophobic because soon it can be like living in an artistic box of limited dimension. Like a prison cell. But some artists say that this cell is actually a finely decorated palace and they are quite comfortable doing what people like and to be paid handsomely.
Lately, I feel unsettled creatively. After being so free, traveling around the world, what am I going to do next? I cannot seem to attach myself, or be attached. I do not want to own anything and do not particularly care if what I have comes or goes. Just the ideas for projects make me restless and I fear being trapped. So this is what THE DREAM is presenting me with now and I am treading lightly, just observing where the flowing water wants to go as it makes its way through the landscape to the sea. Soon enough, the energy will gain strength to carry me into a new unknown.
"Good taste is the enemy of creativity." Pablo Picasso (1881-1973)

You Smell Good

Today, I got in trouble with someone and I had to apologize for overstepping boundaries. I often allow my personality and temperament to flow unconstrained and exuberantly, like a journey on a free-spirited river that is sometimes placid and other times dashing against rocks and swirling in turbulence. For the most part I am along for the ride and call it THE DREAM. In this state I feel boundless and excited, and need to touch the world to unite with it and know where I am. For example, one evening last October, while sharing dinner with my fellow safari travelers in Tanzania, a man from South Africa stared at me from across the table and abruptly asked, “Why did you kiss that Masai woman today?” His direct query took me by surprise. Earlier, our vehicle had broken down on the bumpy dirt route out of the Serengeti, and we were stranded while one of the crew worked to fix the problem. I had gone out of the bus to stretch and met a Masai couple by the side of the road. I immediately felt attracted and so walked over to them. The man sized me up as I stood smiling, and I asked to take their picture. He nodded okay, and I took photos of them together, then each one alone, and finally just of their hands touching together. Afterwards, spontaneously and without thinking, I leaned over and kissed the woman’s cheek. She was highly amused and giggled. “But didn’t you see that the man was holding a club when you kissed his wife?” the South African asked. To be honest, I did not think that any of the interchange could end badly. That is my way. But today THE DREAM took a different twist.
Outside of Santa Fe there is an Indian tribe that controls an outdoor marketplace that is famous and where I have just begun selling my items from world travel. This morning, as I stood talking with my assistant, a young, very chubby, Indian woman who worked at the market came to speak with me. She was wearing nice perfume and in a moment, I was riding in the stream and going with the flow. “You smell good!” I beamed at her as I put my arm around her shoulder and sniffed her hair. A half hour later, I was summoned to the tribal office and severely reprimanded. Feeling a bit humiliated, I apologized profusely, but nonetheless received a warning. I felt like a school kid that had been scolded in the principles office.
For a while afterward, I questioned myself and even incriminated a little. But really, the stream that carries me is big and beautiful and my heart is full, so I imagine that someday again, I will stop in my tracks when I come to a fragrant rose and simply from exuberance, reach out and touch it.

Chicago

This last week, I flew to Chicago, the place of my birth. My daughter Sarah is finishing her studies in dance at Columbia College, and as part of her senior project, choreographed and performed in a modern dance. Chicago is notorious for its bone chilling winters, and the trees are just beginning to show buds that will become the green leaves of summer, but the weather was surprisingly warm. Chicago is called “the windy city” because it rises from the shores of Lake Michigan where heady breezes blow.

Sarah called her dance Desert Skies, and used one of my paintings of a southwestern sunset as a backdrop. Six dancers performed to elegant music with flute, in flowing burnt-orange pastel dresses that harmonized with the sunset. The dancers entered the stage from both sides, seeming to arrive into the landscape of the setting sun. From there, the bodies often came together only to fly apart in patterned movement, coming together again . . . falling, rising, running, grasping the sky with arms like wings, twirling, spinning and finally becoming one pulsing circle that fell to the ground in ecstatic exhaustion. The evening included six performances, and afterwards, the students, their parents and admirers all gathered together for a social time. I found Sarah in the hall outside the auditorium and she was flushed from exercise and excitement. She said she felt happy to have accomplished her task but a bit sad too that it all was ended.

Big cities have wonderful resources to keep people informed and entertained, and whenever I arrive in Chicago I always visit the Art Institute of Chicago. It holds many masterpieces, and some I never tire of seeing, such as an exquisite small self-portrait by Vincent Van Gogh.
The institution is constantly providing the public with new features, and I was able to see a wonderful special exhibit about the famous Norwegian painter Edvard Munch who is best known for his iconic painting called The Scream.


My stay in Chicago lasted three days and when I boarded the airplane to travel 1125.18 miles (1810 kilometers) back to Santa Fe, New Mexico, I felt like Sarah did after her dance performance—satisfied but a bit sad that this wonderful sojourn had drawn to a close.

Journey Around The World

I have made a movie. The name “movie” implies movement, and nowadays action movies are packed with so much movement and sound that they can make you dizzy. My film is more meditative, a sort of glorified slideshow that took me all week to make as I learned along the way. It is called, A Journey Around the World, and is comprised of the photographs I took while circling the globe, also including music reflective of each country I visited.

Philosophy

Human beings are by design, philosophers . . . and I dare say, the more intelligent a person is, the more philosophical. Philosophy is the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence, and can be a guiding principle for behavior. Everyone at some time asks, “who am I, and what is the meaning of life?” Baha’u’llah has said, ”True loss is for him who has spent his life in utter ignorance of his true self.” And Socrates spoke these famous words: “The unexamined life is not worth living.”
For years, I have sought to invent myself beyond the historical forces that have molded me with values and prejudices. At one point, I had a desire to be broken apart so that I could be made anew. Not long after, my daughter Naomi, seventeen at the time, was diagnosed with cancer, and two years later died. In the interval, I completely broke apart and fell so low that life itself seemed an illusion of despair. With Naomi dying, I felt myself dying as well; all my parts were as if broken.
There is a passage from the Bible that Dostoevsky used in the preface to his great book The Brothers Karamazov. It is: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” John 12:24 Examining this statement from a personal and also philosophical viewpoint, it is extremely telling, and a metaphor for life itself. Seeds are the kernels of life that hold the promise of fulfillment when they become plants and bear fruit. They are made up of three parts: the outer seed coat, which protects the seed; the endosperm, which provides food for the embryo; and the embryo itself, which is a young plant. In order for the seed to grow, certain actions must occur between the seed and its environment. The hard, protective shell must disintegrate, and proper conditions help the young plant to emerge into daylight. It is this “dying” of the protective shell which allows the emergence of the essence of the plant. Likewise, in human life, the protective shell might be regarded as an individual’s ego that serves to form an identity that offers protection against the assaults and rigors of the world. But the ego also binds people so tightly, that they remain apart from everything. The inner essence of human beings, in order to grow to fulfillment, needs the ego to die after it has served its usefulness early in the development of the individual. Then the person can truly give himself to the world, and receive in return. Easier said than done; David Starr Jordan, author of The Philosophy of Despair, said, "Wisdom is knowing what to do next; virtue is doing it.”
In my case, after Naomi died, I found myself far more humble in this world. My ego was shattered and a new perspective on life had developed. Everything was precious because I knew that even the blades of grass, once they die, cannot be replaced identically. Every part of nature is special; and most special of all is humanity. In a sense too, Naomi’s passing left a big void inside of me, so that I sought for her in everyone, and even if slightly, found my hearts desire in everyone.
If all of humanity became educated to be philosophers and search for truth, we will see each other as special, and as we grow and overcome the shell of our egos, the earth will be remade too . . . into a paradise. It is waiting for this.

Everything Is In Motion

We are all travelers. All is in motion, even when appearing to be at rest. Time is always moving and everything is related to time, so everything moves, becoming “older” with each moment. Furthermore, our world and all its parts are in constant rotation: the earth is rotating on its axis, and orbiting the sun, which is in a galaxy revolving in the universe, which is in revolution of another universe; and so on.
These thoughts arrived last night when I was at a party and people asked me about how it feels now that I have stopped traveling. Really, we are always traveling, and my trip around the world is but a small step in the grander scheme of motion. Moreover, I am comfortable knowing that the flux of my travel never ends, and that my perception of the moment is most important. Quality moments depend on awareness, and the love found when one's being is commingled with the surroundings; not resisting, but surrendering and engaged.

Another question I am often asked is, “What was the best place?” That is another matter for analysis, because it depends on what I have just discussed, which is quality moments. If I am always engaged and having good quality moments, why should I deconstruct the whole experience and break it apart so that I then label segments in a sliding scale of bad to good? No, I prefer to keep my experience intact as a living whole that is entirely inter-related and inter-dependant. Of course, some memories are stronger, like when I first saw an elephant roam into my view at the Serengeti in Africa. That is a bigger impression than waiting to board an airplane in Bangkok, because boarding airplanes is something I have done many times and includes long waits in a static environment. But somehow, the two experiences do not exclude each other. If I were a Masai tribesman who had grown up among elephants, then the airport experience might be more memorable.

Sublime And Complicated

“Computers are useless. They can only give you answers.” This is something a madman might say, or, maybe an artist. Actually, Pablo Picasso, Spanish, 1881 – 1973, said it, and I will share a few more of his sayings. Love him or hate him, Picasso changed the course of art history and became one of the most famous people of all time. He also said, “Everything you can imagine is real. And, “I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it.”
I share Picasso’s passion for pursuing imagination, and trying to do that which I cannot. It is what led me to give up my home and journey around the world for a year. Now that I have returned to Santa Fe, I am exploring what I can do with some of the over 10,000 photographs I took. I bought a large inkjet printer for my studio and can make prints up to 44 inches wide and any length. It prints on paper or canvas, and furthermore, the color and sharpness can be strikingly good. Recently, I made a painting of a sunset that I then photographed and printed on canvas the same size as the original. Then I stretched it on stretcher bars, coated and painted on it until it became as vibrant and impressive as the original. Now it can be sold as a semi-original piece of art, at a fraction of the cost.(See: http://stevenboone.com/giclee.html)
It is such pleasure to draw from the naked human form. I have been doing this for thirty years and never tire of it. Now that I am settled in one place again, I have rejoined a group of artists that gather once a week and draw a nude model. It is so sensuous and invigorating to look intently over every square inch of a naked person, and consciously trace their form onto paper. Some artists are better than others at this, and everyone has their own style, although techniques can be the same. It is quite difficult to arrive at a successful outcome that warrants attention. Serious artists spend considerable time studying anatomy. I took artistic anatomy in college, and learned how bones and muscle give contour to the human form underneath skin. And then, proportions are important, and the angle from which a figure is viewed directly influences proportion. (Click to see Steven Boone figure drawings.)
Some artist models are better than others. For me, the best are those who have something of the artist in themselves. They are comfortable being gazed at while they are naked, and intuitively strike poses that are challenging and enticing. Models that are self-conscious sometimes just get into yoga poses, and often it is boring to the eye and not particularly fun to draw.
It is amazing how prominently the human form figures in art history. Check it out—look through an art history book sometime and notice how artists through the ages have focused on the most sublime and complicated feature of our existence: the human form.

“There are painters who transform the sun to a yellow spot, but there are others who with the help of their art and their intelligence, transform a yellow spot into the sun.” Picasso

“There is no abstract art. You must always start with something. Afterward you can remove all traces of reality.” Picasso

Division Bells

I imagine I know what a prisoner feels like when he is released from confinement and walks out into the big, bright planet as a free person. Suddenly, he acutely appreciates everything, and especially marvels that he is free to touch the world once again. The sun warms his flesh, colors are vivid and true, and he drinks deep the fresh air, relishing life as if he is born again. Now that the nineteen-day fast is over until next year, this is what I felt like yesterday, when I began my day and could eat or drink whenever I wanted. I had been a willing prisoner, but now my aim is accomplished and I have a fresh and vital perspective going forward.
I pulled into my driveway today just as a song came on the radio that held me so that I just sat and listened. It was Pink Floyd’s composition called High Hopes. It begins with the chiming of bells, which reminded me of Venice, Italy. The first stanza goes,
Beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young

In a world of magnets and miracles

Our thoughts strayed constantly and without boundary

The ringing of the division bell had begun
It made me think. Children in their innocence see the world as if dreaming. The universe to them is whole and fluid, with moments effortlessly flowing one into the other. Imagination imbues everything with possibility. Then, the bells of rationality and discriminate thinking sound, and so the perception of the world changes. Slowly, children become less magical and more grounded in opinion. The ego develops and so do feelings of separation. People develop alliances and choose labels for themselves and others, such as; nationality, color, status, profession, sexuality, and many others.
To me, THE DREAM is the same place we lived when we were children, in a world of magnets and miracles, . . . without boundary. To stay there, is to not listen to the division bells that cut and dice the world into separate and unequal parts and makes us prisoners. It is to be, as Bob Dylan says in his song of the same name, "forever young."

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

Contraction

Fasting is a voluntary contraction of life that animals seldom do unless they are sick. If an animal is sick, not only does it fast, but also sometimes it will go further, and eat grass to make it vomit. This is a cleansing which is instinctual and life preserving. During my fasting, I feel contraction, and must rely on my core to get through the day. Today, the Baha’i fast is in the thirteenth day with four more to go, and although it is difficult, I am feeling stronger inside, and more able to reach above the difficulties of life.
Sometimes, I am surprised to find that I have yearning for the fast not to end. It is because although I am weakened outwardly, inwardly my strength is increasing. What is waning outwardly is waxing inwardly. Furthermore, I know that it is the spirit and mind that contains the most essential abundance of human life and is its true worth.
These days, the world economy can be likened to a sick animal in the throes of a big contraction. It had become bloated and corrupt and after falling sick, now is contracting and vomiting. Everyone knows the huge losses. But when the core is reached, a recovery will begin. In the end, this is all healthy, but during a sickness, nobody says, “this is good.”
I had an opening at my studio last Friday and showed prints of my photographs from around the world; (see artistic photography by Steven Boone, at http://graphixshoot.com). Crowds of people arrived and thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and this pleased me. Yet, I did not sell any art . . . and my expenses the past few months have been above my income. The contraction is affecting me along with so many others.

Violin Played By Ethereal Hands

From March 2 – 20 is a time of fasting for the worldwide Baha’i community. Imagine living without water or food for nineteen days. Well, actually, it is during our most active hours between sunrise and sunset. Usually as the time of fasting approaches, I look forward to the ordeal—something like a long-distance runner looking forward to a marathon as a challenge that is given him to transcend. This is the heart of the matter, that we need to be tested in life so that we transcend and grow. In this case, our hunger and thirst, which we can so easily satisfy but do not, becomes the instrument for the growth of our willpower, devotion, temperance, and sense of trust in God. Outwardly it is a bit hellish, but inwardly, it is like entering a garden of paradise. Those who are excused from fasting include people that are sick, pregnant or nursing mothers, those under fifteen or over sixty-five years of age, and travelers going more than eight hours distance.
Every year is different for me, and this time, from the beginning I immediately hit a brick wall. After arising before dawn to eat, I felt drowsy and lethargic. The rest of day was like being submerged in water and moving in slow motion. The feeling of pushing through water has remained, now that it is the eighth day. My concentration suffers too, and sometimes I forget what I was thinking. Nonetheless, I stay the course and want to continue. I often have blissful moments when the pure currents of life touch me as if I am a violin played by ethereal hands. I have become more acutely aware of my physical presence in the world, and can appreciate more intimately changing temperatures, smells, breezes that touch my skin, and in general, the physical nuances of life. Also, I am aware of the satisfaction of eating my hunger. The Persian Sufi poet Rumi wrote, “Only the true favorites get hunger for their daily bread.”

Giving To Others

Last week, I wrote of my perceptions returning to the United States after a year of travel, of my sale of objects that I brought back with me, and the shift that has been occurring in my consciousness toward a feeling of complete safety and thankfulness. An anonymous person left a comment; “...and what do you give to others?” I was taken aback, and felt the comment was an accusation . . . or maybe an exhortation to form a soup kitchen for the homeless in these hard economic times.
Since my blog is a public discourse, I feel it is unseemly to tell the world all that I do for others . . . it is better simply to do good for the sake of doing good, rather than public acclaim.
I am an artist, and if we ask the question, “what do artists give to others?” we must think of Mozart, Beethoven, Michelangelo, Picasso, Leo Tolstoy, James Dean, Claude Monet, the Beatles, and many more. Life without art and artists would be impossibly dreary and uninspired, almost not worth living. We could also ask, what do philosophers do for others . . . yet where would mankind be without St. Augustine, Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, and the rest?
During my traveling, I opened completely to the unfolding moments, and there were many occasions to “give to others.” Often it was simple things that seemed natural. During my visit to Egypt, I was in Luxor, along the Nile River. One day I met a man working on his felucca, a traditional sailing boat. He used his boat to take tourists for boat rides, and this is how he supported his wife and four children. He spoke a bit of English, and had just repainted his boat and needed to give it a name and write the word in English on the prow—but he could not spell or write in English. Typically, captains on the Nile River name their boats after their youngest daughters, so he wanted to name his vessel Amira. Since I am an artist, I offered to help, and when I finished, he was overjoyed and took me home with him. Another time, I was in Kashmir and had made friends who invited me to a wedding celebration. It was evening when the groom arrived to meet his bride. Guests were joyous and singing, food was plentiful and the wedding couple were actors playing out their roles from an ancient script. Amazingly, I was the only one there with a camera. Somehow, I was escorted into the private room where women helping to dress and decorate her surrounded the bride, and I took photos. Then I did the same in the room where the groom was sitting with the men. Before I left Kashmir, I had the photos enlarged and delivered to the newlyweds. Simple acts that made a positive difference for people, and along the way of my journey these opportunities arrived frequently. As far as my spending money on things—the local economies where I left my savings benefited greatly. These are communities where small amounts of money, let alone the thousands I spent, go a long way to support families.
In the end, I feel if I live my life fully and authentically, not wasting my talents but instead enthusiastically embracing them to share with the world, then I am also giving to others.

A Shift Has Occurred

A shift has occurred in the year since I have been away from the United States. When I left, I sensed an unrest and dissatisfaction leading up to the presidential election and also a hopefulness and determination. Now, a month since my return, it seems despair and gloom is in the air, with constant news of calamity and hardship. We have a new president who is tackling the immense problems, and even he is saying not to expect too much quickly. I see the change clearly, because I stepped outside the unfolding drama for 50 weeks and now have returned to it with a fresh outlook.
My studio sale of exotica from afar has begun, and I can see that people are timid about spending. I wonder if I was crazy buying over 200 objects. On the other hand, the items all have more value than I spent, and will not decrease in worth, and even in some cases, such as the oriental carpets, continue to appreciate, even while financial markets spin downward.
A shift has occurred in me as well. I am positive all my hours. Occasionally I get angry; for instance if I break something nice or lose my keys and I am in a hurry to go somewhere. But the upset passes and then is gone for good. THE DREAM has so much to give me, and like a child I receive the gifts and embrace wonderful life. The material world is not where my treasures are saved, but Spirit gives me all that I need and my investment is safe there. I stay thankful, and I am not worried about the future because it will be rich in experience and give me what I need.

Within Each Heartbeat

People ask if I am having difficulty adjusting to “being back.” Not really, except that for the past year I did not live anywhere longer than three weeks, and now, I have a street address again. I see with new eyes, and clearly notice that American society is largely based on consumerism, and status based on acquisition. Every day we are barraged with advertising that tells us we need to be better off in life, and subsequently most people think that they are falling short, because they do not have everything that “experts” insist that they need. God forbid if you do not have a house and car, and wander from place to place with barely any possessions. Maybe I am an anomaly, but it is why I could relate so easily to everyone everywhere I went. I have no pictures in my head of how things “should” be, but what life gives me in present moments is incredible. What more do I want? Often, the answer is nothing because the intangible greatness that lies within each heartbeat is entirely satisfying. Maybe this yearning to live purely in moments is what drove me to travel as I did. Perhaps, in the end, I felt trapped and harassed in a consumer-oriented society and wanted more than stale offerings. Now, I am in the game again, but oddly feel detached.

In my studio, beautiful things that I collected overseas surround me; wooden sailing ships, hand-knotted silk rugs, paintings made entirely from butterfly wings, and more. If I do not sell them quickly, it is okay because they give me pleasure. Further, they remind me of the greater world . . . and connect me to other moments, earlier in THE DREAM. Next week, people will begin to come to look at these things, and I will enjoy sharing the beautiful objects from far off places. Sometimes, I will have an intimate story to tell.

Bigger Picture

My trip around the world has broadened my inner sphere and given me more confidence than ever. It seems a bigger picture has developed and little things do not stop me the way they once could. Also, I know how to search for the beauty in the occasion, so that I go with the flow in the unfolding moment. For instance, last night, I visited a friend for dinner. We were supposed to go to a movie, but she was not feeling well, so I might have stayed only a short while. During dinner, she said a special program was on television—a ceremony honoring the famous, recently deceased comedian, George Carlin. Her plan was to spend the evening alone nursing her illness, and I was going to leave quickly, but once the program came on, we sat on the couch, and began laughing. The moments of laughter stretched on, and I realized that the current time mattered most, and that sitting on a couch beside my sick friend, eating popcorn, watching television with a comic genius on the show was enough to let everything else fade to the background.
Returning to America from afar, I know again some of the qualities that make it special, and especially appreciate that it is a land of great possibilities. America is a free and open society, and despite its many problems, opportunity and prospects exist everywhere. If you have a dream and are bold, you can manifest your idea, and find other people who share your vision. More possibilities exist here than anywhere on earth.
Now, my “big picture” will develop further . . . the moments are full and the future waits with promise.

Become The Path Itself

I am two days late writing my blog . . . and this after uploading faithfully each weekend for 50 weeks traveling around the world. I blame it on “stuff”, and maybe that I am suddenly grasping for a topic to write about. The “stuff” is mostly personal tasks, like contacting the collection agency that is chasing me because I did not answer the ten bills from an eye clinic that were sent to my post office box while I was away. (I thought I had paid in full.)
I am glad all the “stuff” I bought overseas is arriving, but now I have to inventory and sell it all. How could I have known that when I returned, everyone would be afraid of the economy?
A proverb says, “The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.” I am so grateful to have experienced circling the big, wonderful world, and being exposed to its many colors and textures. My love for the planet is deeper than ever, and I have knowledge to give this feeling breadth. As I stepped forward, I embraced the journey, and felt safe within what I call THE DREAM. Guatama Buddha said, “You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself.” Four months ago, I visited the site where Buddha received His enlightenment under a Bodhi tree in Bodhgaya, India, and sat with monks meditating. There are so many stories to tell, it brings to mind something Oscar Wilde said, “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”

Land of Enchantment

When the airplane carrying me from Phoenix to Albuquerque touched down, I felt a familiar delight course through my veins. New Mexico is called the Land of Enchantment, and I have an abiding love for this place. During the drive to Santa Fe, my lungs drank in the clean, brisk, arid, winter air, while my eyes reveled in the vast unobstructed views of plains, mountain ranges, and sky.
In keeping with the grace I have felt all along on my journey, my former wife Jean gave me a room in her home for a few days, and then quickly, I found a new place to live that is fully furnished and comfortable. I am relaxed, and moving easily into my new existence in Santa Fe. Many items I bought abroad, are now in my studio, and more are still to come. They must be inventoried and put for sale, so they will find new homes, far from India, Thailand and Vietnam, where they have come from.
I will begin my creative work again, and have a plethora of ideas and wellspring of inspiration. Certainly, my experiences going around the world will inform my art, and I hope to share insights with the greater community around me.
Since Naomi died, the number eleven has come to be a sign of her continued presence in my earthly existence. She was born on the eleventh of January. My other daughter, Sarah, was born the eleventh of November. There were times while Naomi was alive that eleven figured in events, but after her death, eleven seems to be part of a grand design to keep me aware that she is here. Parking spaces come up with numerals adding to eleven, as well as motel rooms, tickets and seats. (Digit summing, as the name implies, involves taking the sum of all of the digits in a number, and repeating the process as necessary until a single-digit answer is produced. For instance, the numerals 1433 break down to 11 if you add 1 + 4 + 3 + 3. So does 29.) My social security number, with its nine numerals, comes to eleven. How fitting, that on the last flight of my trip around the world, I found myself in seat 11E.

A Vast Journey

Now that I returned to the United States after fifty weeks of travel, I do not feel as if I reached a goal or have landed safely home but rather I have evolved, and continue on a vast journey. When I began, I hoped to disappear into the matrix of the earth, and I had a dream before leaving in which a voice spoke to me and said, “The vessel he entered was a grand confusion between his world and the world outside of him.” The world is more tangible and intricately intertwined in my life than ever, and maybe this is a "grand confusion", since I do not exactly know what “home” means, but feel content as a world citizen and comfortable everywhere.
As I expected, people have been asking me what the best part of my trip was. I cannot say, because I do not want to take apart THE DREAM. It is whole, and if any part were missing it would not be complete. All the parts belong to each other and are inter-twined . . . and this is the way life weaves its tapestry.
Santa Barbara is beautiful and the weather is superb. Flowers continue blooming here year around. I have been enjoying standing amidst the roses in my mother’s garden and simply absorbing the pleasure. In a few days I return to Santa Fe where it is cold, and I do not have winter coat with me!

Fresh Air And Dancing Winds

Summer in New Zealand is wonderful. It barely gets hot, there is plenty of fresh air, and dancing winds carry the scent of sea, forest and field. Moreover, well kept highways meander across beautiful and changing landscapes, and the sea is never far away.
Driving north from Queenstown on the South Island, I had my first and only “accident” on my world tour. I pulled off the highway to investigate a waterfall and fell down an embankment in the woods, landing with my head against a rock and momentarily knocked unconscious. Some Germans who had pulled off the road at the same spot helped me bandage a deep wound on my arm and suggested I needed stitches. My camera lens got smashed. As I drove north toward Greymouth on the coast, I realized it was my only serious accident and it had happened on Naomi’s birthday. Something similar happened a couple years ago when I had an automobile accident on her birthday. It seems something comes over me, and I blank out momentarily—then crash. Now that this has occurred more than once, I will have to watch out next January 11. My stitches were done at no cost in a hospital. The next day, I made the inter-island ferry with only two minutes to spare.

The drive north on the North Island took me through Rotorua, a place on the edge of a grand lake with outdoor activities of every kind. I soaked in hot springs, and then took off for Whangamata to stay nearby a beautiful beach. Salt water is good for wounds, and I relished the sun, surf and sand.
Now I am at the Auckland airport, waiting to board my plane at 7:30 PM to fly to Los Angeles, California. After flying overnight, I will catch another flight to Santa Barbara where I began my journey almost one year ago, and visit with my family for few days before heading on to Santa Fe.

Standing On The Threshold

When I arrived in Auckland, New Zealand, a native told me, “Ah, you saved the best for last!” No doubt New Zealand, with its sparse population, is among the very best places in the world for natural scenic beauty that has not been spoiled by man. For lovers of wilderness and the great outdoors—from volcanoes and glaciers, to fjords and endless coastlines, this is paradise, offering just about every open-air activity. Now, while it is summer and so far south of the equator, it is especially wonderful because the sun barely goes down before it rises again. Light comes before 6 AM (06:00) and does not completely vanish until after 10:30 PM (22:30).








I have rented a car for the two weeks I am here, and for the first time in my travel, have been staying in hostels. I get a room of my own, and usually share a bathroom and other facilities, such as a kitchen. It is cheap and for the most part has worked out, except for some lack of privacy. I mix in with a mostly young, international, set of fellow travelers.

New Zealand is comprised of the North Island and the South Island. Starting from the far north, in Auckland, I have driven south, following the western coast and stopping along the way at nearly deserted black sand beaches to walk and dive into slightly chilly surf to be invigorated. From Wellington, the capital, I took a three-hour ferry with my car to the South Island. Now I am in Queenstown in the far south, a major city that is a jumping off place to spectacular mountains, forests, lakes, streams, rivers, alpine meadows, lush pastures, and especially Milford Sound and the fjordlands.

I have been driving more than I expected, but at least I am close to the ground and can witness the changing scenery. Also, if I see something interesting, I stop. By the time I finish with my car, I will have driven perhaps 3,800 kilometres (2105 miles). Despite seeing so much, I feel a bit rushed and realize that two weeks is not enough time—rather, a year would be about right to get an intimate and insightful impression of the manifest and hidden wonders of New Zealand.

Strange, but when I arrived in New Zealand I had mixed feelings. I have seen and experienced so many places, and now, I am at the last step, standing on the threshold of returning home to the United States. I have some remorse and wonder how I will adjust to being “home.” My solace is that THE DREAM keeps going.

Summertime

This is the first time in my life that I celebrated New Year day in the middle of summer. For the people living in Australia and the rest of the southern hemisphere of our world, it is summertime. When I arrived, I rented a car at the airport, and set out to find a hotel. Easier said than done! Everywhere along the ocean, from high-rise to motel, the rooms were all taken. It is holiday time and Gold Coast is a premiere beach area, and now is the warmest time of year. After an hour of looking and finding only an oversize room at an exorbitant rate, I said a prayer for assistance, and then pulled into a motel along the ocean, despite the sign out front that said “No Vacancy”. To my surprise, I got a room for five nights at a reasonable rate.
Usually I like to explore surroundings, but now that I am at the ocean on a nice beach, I have been content to stay put, even though I have a car. I have barely gone anywhere, but everyday, walk on the ocean shore and dive into the frothy surf. The experience is captivating and I know why people become “surf bums.” To be at an ocean is to stand at the verge of something huge, primeval, and unfathomable. The sound of waves crashing and rushing onto sand is distinct and unstoppable. To walk into the ocean is to be challenged because it can easily swallow anything that dares venture into it. Waves crash and churn into a froth of tiny, bursting bubbles that buffet and caress, constantly moving.
Today, the surf is fierce compared to yesterday. It rained a little, the sky is overcast, and strong winds encourage bigger waves. I have been one of the few to venture in the water, along with some surfers. Immediately, I felt a strong push and pull, and realized I could easily be sucked out to sea and never heard from again. But the feeling is so magical to be in the swirling, crashing, frothing water, playing in it, feeling the swell and going under, being hit by waves and bursting through, falling and then getting up . . . being washed in salty lather, over and over again.
As usual, I have made friends. The second night here, I went to a Baha’i gathering and of course, felt at home among family. Tonight I am going dancing with a lady I met who owns a café along the beach.
Tomorrow, bright and early, my flight leaves for New Zealand, the last country I will visit on my world tour. There, it is three hours earlier than Australia, so, if I call Santa Fe, New Mexico in the United States at 9 AM (09:00) on Sunday, January 4, it will be 1 PM (13:00) Saturday, January 3.
I have almost completely gone around the world.