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.
To see some of the items I collected, click, Steven Boone’s World Bazaar.

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.