Enough To Fill Volumes

At the Banteay Srey Butterfly Centre, near Siem Reap, Cambodia

I had not intended to leave the United States in mid-September and travel around the world, but this is what happened. Yes, for certain I knew I would go to live in Venice, Italy where I stayed five weeks, and maybe visit India and Thailand.
On November 2, I was in Varanasi, India and by the end of the month living in Chiang Mai, Thailand. In Thailand I realized I could only legally stay 30 days and began imagining where my footsteps might wander next. I chose the neighboring country of Cambodia and a visit to the famous Angkor Wat Temples. I only stayed one wonderful week, and circumstances brought me to Bali, Indonesia. By then I knew I would continue circling the globe east back to the USA. From Bali I went to New Zealand—and then my mother died and I hurried back to attend her memorial in Santa Barbara, California.

Over the course of 119 days, I made 25 paintings, shot thousands of photographs, wrote 17 blogs and made scores of journal entries, traveled by boat, train, car, rickshaw, bus, airplane and foot. The experiences are enough to fill volumes and will be woven into my future like so many brightly colored and various threads woven into a composition of exceptional fabric.

Now, my traveling is inward, into stillness, psychology, spirit.

Turn Around

New Zealand wild beauty

Here I am, back in the United States of America for the first time since September 12 of last year. Following the scenario that seems sketched out for my life, THE DREAM has surprised me again and put me on a stage with a strange set and I have to improvise my part.

In New Zealand I had spent ten days on the south island and was preparing to go to the north island and explore further, making paintings, writing, and producing photographs when my mother died suddenly. I had been feeling strange for about week—bewilderment and tinges of grief after being adrift for so long, and then the news arrived to complicate my inner life further. Perhaps I had been unconsciously anticipating the death, knowing it would happen soon. My mother and I always affirmed our bond with each other by ending our conversations with statements of love and affection.

I felt better after determining to go back for the memorial. Yes, I would not be visiting the spectacular north island and doing what I had planned, but I would be going “home” and getting closure, bonding and celebrating with others my mother's life.

The home of my parents in Santa Barbara, California, USA

I have been alone in the home of my parents for several days. My sister arrived last night and a brother is to arrive today. Another brother is already living in Santa Barbara, and one brother is not coming—he lives in New York state. I have had continued feelings of being adrift and not knowing the future or being excited about it. But I am working at improving. There are reasons for everything that I feel, going back over the years and now with the loss of my mother. But yesterday I realized I could turn around the feelings of grief that are associated with loss. It takes willpower but I am doing it consciously—celebrating instead of grieving.

An "angel" cloud that formed over the house, the second night

That Night She Died

Chloris Boone, about 21 years old

I hope she does not die while I am in foreign lands. This thought occurred several times before leaving the United States last September. My mother had escaped death before, astonishing even seasoned workers in the hospice field. At one point I had been called to her side by both her caregivers who were certain she was dying, and after flying from New Mexico to California and arriving at her side, that evening she beat me at a game of cards. My brother and sister who live nearby shook their heads at her turn around but did not put it past her. I stayed another seven days, waiting for her to die, but she was phenomenal. Her neighbor arrived with a fresh bag of books from the library, which she finished in no time, (with speed-reading skill), and we watched music videos together and listened to her favorite rock groups—The Eagles, and The Band. When I left, I swore I would not be jumping on an airplane every several months when an alarm went off.

About the time I arrived in New Zealand from Bali, Indonesia, I was four months into travel and began having morbid feelings but could not decipher them. Perhaps I had become too unsettled from travel around the globe. Maybe I was not prepared to go home and start hustling for income. Had I not resolved the hurt from divorce a year earlier? 
 

With her five children

New Zealand's beauty and majesty entranced me and I threw myself into it, yet could not shake feelings of sadness. Then came a message from one of the caretakers that Mom's heart was failing and to please call. I spoke with my mother and she sounded far away and muffled. She wanted to know where I was. The next day I called again and she sounded much better, even accusing me of being narcissistic like my father and reminding me of the fable of the young man who fell in love with his image reflected in a pond. After I took exception and remarked I am quite aware of my flaws, she apologized and asked when would I go home to people who love me and want to see me. That night she died.

Her body has already been cremated. I am cutting short my time in New Zealand to go to Santa Barbara where my siblings have scheduled a memorial. I feel better now. My last ticket is to go home—not to mine, but to where my father and mother lived contentedly for 35 years.

More writing about Chloris and her home:

Private Sanctuary Of Love 

The Jig  

Created With Loving Care  

 

Chloris Boone,  08/26/1932 - 01/21/2016

New Zealand, South Island

Awakenings and Little Deaths

Since September of last year, I have traveled eastward through nineteen time zones. In New Zealand, I am 21 hours ahead of myself were I to be at home in the USA. When I communicate with people there, they are in yesterday and I am in tomorrow.

After so many exotic sights and sounds, foreign experiences, awakenings and little deaths, I am transformed and don't know how I will pick up where I left off once home. I want to continue sharing what I have seen and experienced. Fortunately, all the paintings I have sent back to the USA arrived safely from Italy, India and Thailand, and I have with me the others made in Cambodia and Bali. The photos I have spent countless hours creating are on my laptop and backed up on an extra hard drive. So far so good.

After densely populated Bali, there is more solitude in New Zealand, even though it is summer tourist season. Nature has greater contrasts here and it is more of a struggle for inhabitants to exist year around. Days are gorgeous now, easy to enjoy, and the sun does not set until two hours before midnight. In the winter, days can be seven hours shorter. New Zealand has glaciers, as well as volcanoes.

Today I hiked to the foot of a glacier and was lucky to hear and see an avalanche. Flowers bloomed and made a carpet at my feet, the mountains capped with snow and ice soared above and waterfalls cascaded off shear rock cliffs. Wisps of clouds gathered to play around the peaks. I took off layers of clothes along the way . . . but never ended up as naked as in Bali!

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.