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.

Humanity Is One

THE DREAM is my home and I am content in it. Wherever I am in the world THE DREAM is providing me all I need. I have no longing for a physical home, and the fewer possessions I have the more freedom I feel. In a Kris Kristofferson song called Me and Bobby McGee, the blues singer Janis Joplin sang, “Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.” It is profound to have nothing to lose, since then, there is everything to gain. On the other hand, the more possessions a person has, the more they risk losing. This causes a certain amount of fear. I am aware that since I began buying goods in India, Thailand and Vietnam, I have felt less free. Now, there are loans to repay, and I often feel responsibility for all the items—their safe arrival in the USA, storage, and eventual sale and repaying of debt. I feel obliged to return to Santa Fe soon, and so I have ticket on January 15 from Auckland, New Zealand to Santa Barbara, California where my parents live. By January 20 I will be in Santa Fe. Certainly, THE DREAM will not end with my traveling, since it is the fabric of my consciousness.

The International Baha’i conference in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia included communities from Korea, Singapore, Myanmar, and Malaysia. The main language was English, with translations in Malaysian, Timor and Mandarin. About 3000 people attended, and the main focus of the gathering was discussing the progress of consolidating, and teaching the Baha’i Faith to the greater world at large.

Tomorrow, I leave for Australia. I will arrive at Gold Coast, an area famous for it’s fine beaches and upscale development. On January 4, I fly to Auckland, New Zealand, my last country before I return to the USA on January 15. I say “home”, but really, THE DREAM is my home.

More than ever before, I feel the truth of Baha’u’llah's words: “The world is one country, and mankind is its citizens.” Ábdúl Bahá said, “Wars are caused by purely imaginary racial differences; for humanity is one kind, one race and progeny inhabiting the same globe. In the creative plan there is no racial distinction and separation such as Frenchman, Englishman, American, German, Italian or Spaniard; all belong to one household. These boundaries and distinctions are human and artificial, not natural and original. All mankind are the fruits of one tree, flowers of the same garden, waves of one sea. In the animal kingdom no such distinction and separation are observed. The sheep of the East and the sheep of the West would associate peacefully. The oriental flock would not look surprised as if saying, "These are sheep of the Occident; they do not belong to our country." All would gather in harmony and enjoy the same pasture without evidence of local or racial distinction. The birds of different countries mingle in friendliness. We find these virtues in the animal kingdom. Shall man deprive himself of these virtues? Man is endowed with superior reasoning power and the faculty of perception; he is the manifestation of divine bestowals. Shall racial ideas prevail and obscure the creative purpose of unity in his kingdom? Shall he say, "I am a German," "I am a Frenchman," or an "Englishman" and declare war because of this imaginary and human distinction? God forbid! This earth is one household and the nativity of all humanity; therefore the human race should ignore distinctions and boundaries which are artificial and conducive to disagreement and hostility. We have come from the East. Praise be to God! we find this continent prosperous, the climate salubrious and delightful, the inhabitants genial and courteous, the government equable and just. Shall we entertain any other thought and feeling than that of love for you? Shall we say, "This is not our native land, therefore everything is objectionable?" This would be gross ignorance to which man must not subject himself. Man is endowed with powers to investigate reality, and the reality is that humanity is one in kind and equal in the creative plan. Therefore false distinctions of race and nativity which are factors and causes of warfare must be abandoned.” Ábdúl Bahá, from Foundations of World Unity

Time And Space In Dream

What happens to time and space in dreams? For me, it seems youthfulness exists in dreaming because events occur that are not bound by physical law. All sorts of fantastic actions occur in dreams, and the occurrences are effortlessly woven together into a symphony of experience.
THE DREAM has provided me with a symphony of experiences that make me feel I have stepped beyond the ordinary into magic. Within a day of arriving in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, I found myself living on a Chinese junk, a flat-bottomed sail boat, with 10 other international travelers and five crew, touring Halong Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The boat cruised very quietly and with hardly a stir over placid water in a bay among dense clusters of 1,969 limestone monolithic islands, each topped with thick jungle vegetation. The islands rise spectacularly from the ocean and several are hollow, with enormous caves that we explored. My sleeping cabin was all wood, and cozy, and meals were served on white linen with delicious food. I felt transported by the beauty of my surroundings. Then it was back to bustling Hanoi, which actually intimidated me with its liveliness. The streets are small and teem with life. Often, sidewalks are impassable because they are being repaired with new stone, or are crammed with parked motorbikes, or street vendors are cooking food and customers are sprawled about, sitting at stools and eating. Traffic is ceaseless and whirls by; mostly people on motorbikes, frequently tooting horns. Small shops, eateries and hotels of every description are crammed together wall-to-wall, and often someone is out front, begging passersby to come inside. I became lost several times and could not understand the Vietnamese street names. In the end, I bought some artwork and became an ingredient in the big bubbling-over pot that is Hanoi.

Next, I flew to Danang, mid-way on the eastern coast of Vietnam and then took a one-hour taxi ride to Hoi An, a well preserved and quaint town of about 80,000 inhabitants that is famous for custom manufactured clothing. Incredibly, over 500 tailor shops thrive here. I have never seen anything like it. I have had two suits and 7 shirts made. Shopkeepers take measurements one day, and the next day, your custom ordered clothing arrives. It is all expertly handled with a wide assortment fine materials to choose from. The prices are so low, and quality so good that everyone is smiling in the end. Hoi An is relaxed and scenic as well. I have strolled around for hours, photographing and making friends with locals. Yesterday, a friend and I went swimming at a marvelous beach in DaNang. Hardly anyone was there except for some surfers and a handful of locals selling small things along the shore. We visited Marble Mountain, where generations of sculptors have been making carvings from marble. The quality is excellent and again, I ended up buying artwork for investment and resale in the USA. My friend helped me get the best prices.
Tomorrow, I return to Saigon for three days, and then I am off to an international Baha’i conference in Kuala Lampur, Malaysia.

Odd, But True

My visa in Vietnam has been extended, so now I am not under time constrictions for my visit. This afternoon I fly from Nha Trang to Hanoi. I am told the weather there is colder and it has been raining. Okay, it is all part of THE DREAM, which is giving me everything I need. So is the chest-cold I contracted in Saigon and have had all the time I have been in Nha Trang. And this was just after I bragged to my friend Hang (who had a chest cold) that I could not catch a cold because I never get sick. Here in Nha Trang, Trinh got me an appointment with a Vietnamese doctor who speaks English who prescribed some medicines and now I am recovering. For the most part, this week I have been lying low in my hotel. I have been around on the motorbike I rented and bought more silk items. The beaches are beautiful, and if not for my cold, I would have gone swimming in the ocean. I have been to Trinh’s family’s home several times for socializing and lavish meals that her mother prepared. The food is virtually fat free and delicious. Last night, a big pot sat on a hotplate in the middle of the table and we first cooked and ate fresh squid, then jumbo shrimp, and last, beef and broccoli with steamed rice. Always, there are tasty sauces to dip into. Chopsticks are normal, except with soups, but knife and fork are offered. A big reason the people in Asia are attractive is that everyone is trim. They look healthy and show good figures. (As for me, I am now pulling back four notches further on my belt since I left the USA.) I have also been enjoying the broad faces with high cheekbones, black hair, slanted eyes, broad noses and full lips. Especialy beautiful when all this is combined with a beaming smile.

I have to say a few words about my trustworthy travel gear. For over ten months I have been traveling with two suitcases and nothing else. I have lost things, stuff has worn out and been thrown away, and things have broken or been abandoned. The best is still with me: my Clark shoes which I have owned for about four years have probably walked around the earth by now and still feel comfortable. They have been in marble-floored museums and also stuck in jungle mud, but they keep serving me. In Santa Fe, before I left, I bought an Eagle Creek suitcase that has wheels, is rugged, can be worn on my back, and comes apart into two pieces so I can use the smaller section as a backpack. It fits in the overhead bin of the airplanes and has endured quite well. My other standard suitcase, a Samsonite, has been on many trips besides this world tour and has taken an extreme beating but continues to be durable. The handle extends and contracts, it has not ripped or torn, the zippers work and nothing is broken. My Nikon D200 camera has been bounced around and in all kinds of weather but continues functioning well. My only problem has been specks of dust that sometimes get inside, but I have been able to get it cleaned. Last, but not least, my Apple MacBook Pro laptop computer, which is essential for my websites, E-mails, online bookings, bookkeeping, personal records, music, photography . . . so many things, is excellent. It has stayed with me on airplanes and boats, in hotels and on Safari, been jostled and violently shaken, subjected to many temperatures, turned on for days at a time, and dropped on a hard airport floor and bent so the CD player does not work, but it keeps doing what I need, for which I am very grateful.
I must say that it is funny seeing so many plastic Christmas trees and holiday decorations at shops in Vietnam. The same with Thailand. These are not Christian nations and Vietnam is socialist. Often too, familiar Christmas carols are being played in the background. Odd, but true.
Let us see what Hanoi is like.

Beauty And Adventure

The day I left Thailand, its high court decided to make the prime minister step down, and banned him and his cronies from politics for five years. This is what the 50,000 protestors occupying the Bangkok airport wanted, and they celebrated, announcing the re-opening of normal activities. Meanwhile, I negotiated through the troublesome situation and managed to arrive in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon), only a day late.
Immediately I began finding friends. The evening I arrived, two young security guards at my hotel caught sight of me in my safari hat and one called out to me with a big smile, saying “hey cowboy!” They beckoned me to sit between them and one put his hand on my knee while the other massaged my back and we talked. The next day I found myself on a motorcycle behind Hang, a woman who sells handmade items in street markets. THE DREAM brought us together to become friends. She has acted as my agent while I bought lacquered boxes, silk clothing and carved wooden objects for resale in the USA. Since then, we have spent hours each day together, shared meals, gone dancing several times and one day, she posed in traditional Vietnamese silk dresses while I photographed.
People for the most part are eager for contact, and at least in the cities, speak some English. Many people are street vendors or tourist industry employees and must communicate, at least enough to say, “Hey mister, what are you looking for?” Mostly, street stalls are worked by women and often the younger ones are quite forward. I have had my arm grabbed and been pulled into stalls by smiling ladies who want me to buy something or other.

Vietnam is one of the few socialistic nations on earth but you would not know it. A raging free market thrives everywhere. The Viatnamese currency is in dong. One dollar is worth 16,750 dong. So, at an atm machine I can be dispensed two milion dong at once. It is tricky, especialy since I do not see perfectly well without reading glasses, and several times I have given over a big note, not reading all the zero's. In a restaurant, when the bill was 40,000 dong, I gave a 500,000 dong note, thinking it was 50,000. Fortunately, the correct change came back, but I was surprised. This has happened more than once and now I am very careful.
It seems there is no lack of commerce or business. I have never been anywhere that had so many motorcycles in the streets. Actually, it is good since fuel is saved and streets are less crowded with cars.
My brother Wade lives in the Washington DC area with his Vietnamese wife of three years, Huong, and their one year old son. Today I am going from Saigon to Nha Trang, a city of 500,000, famous for beautiful beaches on a gorgeous bay. I will visit with Huong’s family, especially Trinh, a young woman who speaks fluent English.
I need to extend my visa which expires December 19. Vietnam is full of beauty and adventure, and I want more time here. Places in the north, like Hanoi, Hoi An, Halong Bay and Saba beckon.