The Search for Meaning

A friend recently told me that now that she has all of the money she needs, and doesn't really need to work anymore, and she now finds herself struggling to find meaning in anything that she can do.  She told me that she didn't expect much sympathy, as this problem is not one that really plucks at most people's heart strings, but I knew EXACTLY what she was talking about.  A year after I moved to Costa, I felt the exact same thing.  While I didn't have much money, the world was open to me.  I could do anything at all.  And I was stuck.  What on Earth would be meaningful?  There seemed to be no reason to make one choice over another.

I asked myself if really I thought I might just move back to the States, get a job, and be just like everyone else in the world.  Disgusted with the thought, I packed my bags, and here I am. Just like everyone else around me.  Meaningless.

But last week, I realized something.  Six years ago, just post-Hoffman, I experienced a few months of clarity.  Openness to the world.  Happiness.  Love.  Freedom.  Detachment.  I've described it in detail, I'm sure.  But what I realized last week is that in that time of my life when I felt most me, most alive, most in touch with the universe, I didn't concern myself with meaning. 

And then it hit me.  When you are you - when you allow yourself to let God/the light/the Holy Spirit/your spirit drive you and all of your programming/patterns/habits/pain body are stripped away, you become meaningful.   You don't have to think about what you can do that would be meaningful, because what you do is meaningful.  Whatever it is.  At that point, trying to determine the purpose of your actions or of your being is, in fact, meaningless. 

And so I again set on my life's pursuit.  I'm no longer convinced it is to find the middle way.  It is to just be me.  At any cost. 

But to find the courage to make that leap...

I am again feeling that you can't ease into it.  You must make that leap.  But where that strength comes from...

The New Environment

I was in a discussion today with Kelli, and the homeless came up when talking about responsibility.  And I had a thought that I thought was worth sharing.

Those that don't want to live in society don't have a place to go. Society has replaced the environment with society.  It has robbed the fish from the rivers, the buffalo from the plain, and the fruit from the trees.  Society now is the environment.

Some choose to just live off of the environment.  Something that may be much closer to our nature as human beings.  It's sad for them that their environment is now our society, and instead of catching fish or gathering berries, they instead have to beg for money and live off of the government.  And they lose a sense of self worth - because they now have to beg, borrow, perhaps even steal to even just live.

And we judge them for it.  We judge them for taking what we 'made' or 'earned' without recognizing that we took the lush environment that would have supported them otherwise.

Sure, there are many that beg for booze or steal for drugs.  And that's sad and deserves perhaps even more compassion.  But to judge those that just want to live, and are forced to live off of this new environment because the old environment doesn't exist - that just seems like we're pointing the finger in the wrong direction.

Searching for the Middle Way

It occured to me today that a large portion of my earlier blogs tried to reconcile a spiritual existence with a human existence.  It seems that even one single attachment, one want, one desire - one single human element makes a spiritual existence impossible.  In fact, just one single human element starts a chain reaction that runs its course to a totally human existence, practically void of spirituality.  I won't get into the logic here, but my experience has shown that to be true for me. 

And in meditation today, as I opened my eyes, there sat a buddha statue in front of me, smiling at me.  And I realized that the Buddha went through the same experience.  He could not find his way to enlightenment from a human existence.  He had to totally give up his entire human existence in order to attain enlightenment.  Afterwards, he was able to look back and develop the middle way - a moderate path to enlightenment. 

I'm no Buddhist.  But I'm frustrated by the search for the happy middle ground - the ability to be spiritual and human at the same time.  Several years ago, I made a quick switch from 95% human to 90% spiritual.  That 10% humanity left in me has grown and grown for the past several years to 90%, and in the meantime, it feels like my spirituality has shrunk to the remaining 10%. 

What I seek is to survive within the human world - with all of its distractions - but remain fully spiritual - without want or attachments - filled with love.  I just don't know how those can possibly coexist. 

But that is my search.  To find my middle way.  And this must be my life's work.

It's Time

Three and a half years since my last blog.  I don't even know if this is still active, and if it is, why.  But I'm going to start writing again.  Honest, pure, alive.  May not be as many pictures.  But it's time I stop waiting for inspiration, and start writing as life is.  Today is my restart.  Tomorrow I'll find something to actually say.

Creation and Destruction

Background story: So, I began a quick email to Greg, a friend of mine with whom I attended college. You see, Greg and I had many very late night runs to the 7-11 across the street from my dorm on the way home from the bars, with only one purpose - to gorge ourselves on 7-11 nachos. And because of that, I started to write a quick email to Greg saying that I went to 7-11 late the other night, and got some nachos, and thought of him. But this is how the email turned out...

Last night I went and got WORD REDACTED with a friend in Arlington, and as we wandered around aimlessly in the entirely unfamiliar Clarendon area looking for our car that we misplaced somewhere in the middle of the evening, we happened upon a 7-11. Freezing cold, we became quickly distracted from our search by the comfort of the familiar orange and green sign - a 24 hour front porch light inviting us to come home. Upon entering our sterile, couchless living room through the knobless glass doors, we knew our destination without even having to discuss. A quick and painless conversation with a nervous Nepali housemate behind the counter pointed us in the direction of the most incredible home appliance known to man and the little plastic packages that sit next in anticipation of assistance.

As I ripped open the surprisingly strong outer wrapping, I smiled devilishly like a 9 year old boy with a water balloon as the cute girl slowly approaches from around the corner. But the true joy began as my friend and I together depressed the first of a series of two red buttons on the ingenious apparatus, and the not quite solid but not quite liquid earth-brown substance found its temporary home on the rolling hills of corn below, seemingly flipping the horizon in the miniature world I held in my hands.

But from the below which was now the above, a force of wonder was brewing. This phenomenon, millions of years in the making, was just one more finger press from being unleashed on the new inverted continental crust formed by the previous, almost perfect union. And like an earthquake that unveils a fault reaching to the depths of the core, the electronic signal following the depression of the second button shook the countertop steel appliance, and a flow of violent yellow lava was unleashed on the unsuspecting field below.

And as I stood in awe at the beauty of the creation of our little universe, I had the brief understanding of how God felt at the end of the third day. But my time of creation had ended. Inside of me the pre-determined shift to destruction had already begun. And while I gave myself a brief moment to admire what would soon no longer be, the devilish boy inside raised his water balloon with the target both in his sights and within striking distance.

Ecstasy.

As my friend and I used our fingers to finish the cycle of creation and destruction, completing the disappearing act with the last trickle of the now semi-cool lava, we knew this was but one cycle in the endless circle of life. While this cycle had come to a close, and we said our goodbyes to our new Nepali friend, we had no regrets and no lamentation. Instead, we left with a sense of belonging, a sense of meaning, a sense of purpose. For a brief moment, just before we re-entered the cold, car-less world outside, we knew the universe around us as we had known the universe we had just created and consumed, and we felt - peace. And I thought of Greg.

Openness and Designed Encounters

I headed to the train station in Orange County to head north to LA during a torrential downpour about 10 days ago. The plan was to meet up with Greg, go get some dinner with him and Annette, and perhaps have a chance to see an adorable girl for an hour before she had to head to her graveyard shift at the clinic where she works. Of course, this is jumping into the middle of a larger story, which I'll share next.

But here's a great story within a story - the train never came. In fact, about 30 minutes before it was meant to arrive and take me to LA, the ticket agent told me she would have to refund my ticket fare because the train was stuck in San Diego due to flooding. Next train was almost three hours out. Ouch.

I scurried to find another way, but it was looking unlikely and dinner with Greg and Annette, and perhaps an hour with the adorable redhead, looked like it might have to be postponed. Until a sweet 45ish Latina woman walked through the front door, also quickly finding out that the northbound train isn't going to make it. "Fine, I'll just drive home then," she said. And of course, I overheard, or I wouldn't have written it here. "Excuse me, ma'am, umm, where exactly is home? Is it here in Orange County, or do you mean it's up in LA." "LA, why, do you need a ride?" "YES, please, that would be amazing, thank you so much." "Where are you headed?" "I don't know, but anywhere in LA would be great." "Hop in." Wow. WOW.

But here's the amazing part. I began to tell her about me, and the obvious question quickly came up. "What in the hell happened to you?" I don't think she actually used those words, but she would have if she wasn't being polite. And as I explained my spiritual transformation in March 2008 and the following dramatic changes in my personality and how that really led me to be in California right now on this pseudo-business trip, her eyes started to kinda well up, especially as I spoke about how angry I was beforehand and how (relatively) free I am of anger now. And she looked at me, and asked if I believed in God. I said sure, probably not in the way you believe, but I'm sure we're not that different.

And she said - "I've never really believed this before, but I think God brought us together today. I've been getting angrier and angrier every day. I can't get it out of me. I believe you are here to help me let it go."

And you know what? I think she's right. I shared my experience, and we talked about hers. I simply shared - forgiveness, giving up control, acceptance of yourself and others, watching your experience instead of identifying with it, love, laughter. And SHE shared - her work, her mother, her stuck life. And while I'll never know whether or not our hour conversation had a lasting impact on that wonderful woman, when I left the car I tried to give her some money for the trouble. And with a hug in her eyes, she said, "Absolutely not. You can't ever understand, but it is I who owes you."

And of course she doesn't. Because here's what's wonderful about it... It was free. It cost neither of us anything. Sure, she went a little out of her way to drop me off at the original train station I was headed for (which I actually arrived before the train would have if it hadn't been stuck in SD), but neither of us were really taxed. Instead, we JUST shared. Openly.

Openness. First mine in reaching out to ask a stranger for a favor. And then hers to offer a stranger a favor. Openness to the possibility that there's something out there looking out for us. Openness in sharing our feelings, experiences, problems, failures, guilt, shame, and love. Simply being open. That's all it took.

It's wonderful how much we can get for so little input if we just allow ourselves to be open to the world. Which, by the way, is actually a good segue into the larger story, which I'll write about, umm, tomorrow. Perhaps after I share a short meaningless metaphorical email I accidentally found myself writing to Greg the other day, the end result of I found quite amusing. Even amusing enough to share.

NYC NYE 2009/10

WOW.

Okay, it's now been two weeks since New Year's Eve weekend, so I've had some time to process (and sober up). Here's a brief recount (obviously, this is the online version of events - PG-13).

I've had a lot of fun with over the past several years. Awesome times like Ranch Party Weekends, Friendsgivings, Beer Golfs, Roadtrips in Costa, Night in Ecuador come to mind.

Ranch Party Weekend - circa 2006

And while each of those were absolutely amazing, and I mean AMAZING, New Year's Eve this year deserves to be on that list, and perhaps in a different list of its own.

You see, it's all about synergy. Yes, I used the word synergy there. Somehow there was a great collision on NYE of people from Oklahoma, from DC, from Virginia, from Jersey, and from New York. And with that collision came some sort of synergistic (yes, I used the word synergistic) explosion followed by a mass of such great density that it pulled in free-spirits from California, Indiana, Florida, Massachusetts, Puerto Rico, Ireland, Spain, and countless other communities from across the world. And what resulted was magical.

To add some quick highlights, it all started with, well, Doug. Maybe. And Brad. Doug and Brad were old friends - perhaps grew up together. And Doug at one point decided to visit Brad in DC, with the idea of going to visit Brad's cousin up in New York for NYE. Doug made the mistake of telling me, which was the final straw in my decision to move to DC in the first place. Doug was eventually joined by Jon, and the four of us embarked in the morning of the 31st to the Jersey Shore for Part 1: Awesome.

You see, by the time we even got to our hotel on NYE, before we had even had dinner or gone to a great club on the beach, we had had a successful NYE. In fact, we had already had an incredible NYE. Maybe the ride wasn't quite as awesome as the NYEs we used to spend in Aspen, but it definitely beat my last one with dengue in Costa. Just non-stop laughter, seat dancing, and roadside pee breaks. You see, we grabbed some 40's of Hurricane and some Mad Dog, and the fun began. And the laughter began. Oh, by the way, this is me before we even went out on NYE...

I just wrote a lot about that first night, and decided I was not going to do all this justice. I'll just enter some highlights for my own personal entertainment:

• Seven.
• Free entrance.
• No numbers.
• Five AM nachos with Doug and Brad in 7-11. IN 7-11.
• Doughnuts - in parking lot and as table in 7-11.
• Wake and run.
• Rally.

Skip skip skip. Brother Jimmy's on the East side, the start of Part 2: Awesomer: The Real Start. I'm showing this picture again, because this was the epitome. It leaves out three of the seven, but includes some of the most fun and loving people we had the pleasure of laughing with.

While we had met Danny the night before, it wasn't until Friday afternoon that the synergy really kicked in. With the introduction of Kevin, previously in the NFL, and Lauren, the coolest girl in NYC now that Alex has moved to Long Island, the crew was put together. Danny seemed to call the plays, Kevin led in running them, Jon ran in front wearing down the defense, Doug hammered the ball through the line, Lauren in the cheer section kept us all motivated, Brad took 'em by surprise with his sneak plays, and well, I just did my best to pick up fumbles and maybe fill in for one of the others on an as needed basis when he or she got lost in the cheers of the crowd. All time offense.

But somehow we were rockstars. Perhaps this perception is partially alcohol induced, but I've been inebriated before, and this was different. Something about the seven of us lit up the world around us. From the moment we walked in to a bar, people wanted to be part of us. Rooms full of immediate best friends. Everyone taking pictures, waitresses doing shots, guys raising glasses, barbacks working double-time to wash glasses, and bartenders celebrating. We were IT. From 30th and 3rd to Hoboken to Chelsea, we left in our wake a lasting image.

We could do anything. The amount of confidence grew and grew. And at no point did it become arrogance. There was never a better-than-thou attitude. No, instead, the more confidence we got, the more amazing everyone else seemed. We loved EVERYONE. Guys, girls, Americans, foreigners, outgoing, introverted, lovers, and even haters (I think there was only one, from Princeton, by the way).

It wasn't just about us, it was about EVERYONE.

Living on thousands of calories of alcohol, a couple hundred from the food we could stomach, and a few short hours of sleep a night, we ran the most inebriated weekend of my life. And it was glorious. And while Brother Jimmy's was incredible, it only picked up momentum from there. That place down the street from Danny's. That other place down the street from Danny's. That place that starts with Green. That place after the place that starts with Green.

That place in Chelsea near the Pink Elephant. The Pink Elephant. Flashes, shots, eyes, foggers, laughter, dancing, fist pumping, singing, hugging, more flashes, gloves, hair, plaid, tattoos, bouncers, credit cards, ATMs, more shots, phone numbers, a whirlwind of highs and highers, bottles, tables, thousands and thousands of dollars. More laughter. More laughter. And more laughter.

Love.

Part 3: Awesomeness. And in the end, more than just memories and amazing friends from coast to coast. More importantly, for me anyway, a change. A change in the way I view strangers. A change in the way I experience new friends. A new openness to people I've never had before. A new understanding of myself - an awareness of the love I can experience in any place in life, whether in a shack in Latin America or a club in New York City. So much of life exists, and I can love it all. I find myself chatting with the guy selling tickets for the IMax theatre. I find myself hugging a stranger at a bar, joining into groups that aren't mine in favor of the people I went with. I find myself - open. To the world.

Perhaps it seems superficial, and god knows it was. But in the end it left a deeper, meaningful impression. I feel like in spite of being a child for the weekend, I gained a little wisdom, a little maturity, and found just a little more of me. And for that, I am just thankful.

And I still can't stop laughing.

Pessimism and Courage

I'm reading a book given to me by a dear dear friend, Stumbling on Happiness.  That's the name of the book, not the friend.  It's brilliant and brilliantly written, I suggest it to everyone.  But I wanted to start with a passage that was particularly concerning - and exciting - to me last week.  It seems that the author at one point makes the argument that people tend to get actual happiness today from delayed gratification.  He points to a scientific study where people were told they won a free steak dinner, and then asked whether they would like the steak dinner right away, or whether they would prefer to wait for a bit.  Generally, people wanted to wait.  And he argues that this is because people literally get pleasure from thinking about the future.  And generally, people imagine the future to be filled with wonder and happiness.  Of course, not for all of us, but for most he says. 

And then it occurs to me - holy shit - it's NEVER that way for me.  And that's a frightening thought!  I can't remember the time I REALLY looked forward to something.  Sure, I look forward to eating when I'm hungry, or using the bathroom on road trips, but I couldn't remember a time that I was really excited about something in at LEAST the last year!  

No, instead, when something exciting comes up, I feel a rush of excitedness and eager anticipation, but by the time it actually comes around, somehow I've gone from "I can't wait" to "God I don't want to do this."  Even things that I should REALLY look forward to - like a first date or a roadtrip to NYC with some friends for New Year's Eve (we'll get there) - I actually start to dread as I get closer.  Instead of concentrating on the new experiences that await, or the fun I'm going to have hanging with my boys from Oklahoma in a wild new environment, I'm trying to figure out how and when would be most appropriate for me to come home.  

Yeah, and that's it.  My heart can't wait, and so I commit, and then my head takes over, basically says it's going to be miserable, and I wish that I can get out of it, and frequently come up with strategies to do so. 

But I don't.  Isn't THAT amazing?  I DON'T! In spite of my head telling me how miserable I am going to be trapped in South America with no money, no friends, and lackluster Spanish speaking skills, I GO!  And I cancel my return flight.  And I keep heading south on busses, further and further away from safety.  I go on the date, and I force myself into the Metro to go meet friends for the roadtrip north.  I fly out to San Francisco to see some of the most important people in my life.  

When I moved to Costa 15 months ago, a lot of people told me I had courage.  They were wrong.  I didn't overcome anything to move to Costa.  My mind had finally shut the hell up for a bit, and let me go.  I didn't fly down in the face of certain death, I flew down in the face of certain success!  How sweet that was!  For perhaps the first time in my life, I was doing things that I couldn't WAIT to do!  

But then something happened.  I went back.  Perhaps the misery of the first couple months when I became unexpectedly alone taught my mind a lesson.  Perhaps not.  But something happened.  The dark side returned.  And excitement - anticipation - for life vanished.  Somewhere.  Somehow.  

But I LOVE life!  I mean, I HATE the future, but the actual minutes of my life - I LOVE.  Ask me and I'll tell you!  I love today.  I love this minute.  I smile at freaking everything.  Even in pain, I love life.  Even when things have gone horribly wrong, like Saturday around mid-day, I laugh!  Even while vomiting in a public toilet at a restaurant across the street, I smile!  (Too much?) Yeah, as it turns out, I LOVE the present.  

But somehow I started dreading the future again.  I have to force myself to go to bed because the morning seems so treacherous.  Even on days when I have nothing but fun planned, I have trouble getting out of bed because of all the dire thoughts.  But I do.  Every day I walk through that door.  Every day I overcome.  For me, moving to Costa wasn't courageous, but I recognize now that, in spite of my dire outlook, I am ridiculously courageous.  No, BECAUSE of my dire outlook, I am FORCED to be ridiculously courageous.  EVERY DAY I walk through that door, in spite of the fact I have convinced myself there is a fire on the other side.  EVERY day.  And it's EXHAUSTING.  

But there's light.  I see now.  I can see what I'm doing to myself.  I can see that I'm imagining fire where there's nothing but water.  And, while it's only been a few days, perhaps there's even some improvement.  Perhaps this knowledge that I have LOVED life every time I thought I was sure to be miserable, I recognize that my future as I have seen it is FAR from reality.  And maybe again it won't take courage to walk out that front door.  Maybe I'll be giddy again for a first date.  Maybe I won't have to drag myself to Jersey kicking and screaming all the way.  

I just experienced the most fun I have ever had in a four day period.  Not the highest QUALITY four days, I guess, but in terms of purely outrageous, alcohol induced hedonistic FUN, this weekend won.  Hands down.  I'll probably give more details in the next post - when I can sort through and decide which pictures won't get me arrested.  The guys (and girl) we tore up the towns with, the girls (and, sure, guys) at the bars we set on fire (bars on fire, not girls), the drinks, the laughter, the PAIN in the mornings, the LAUGHTER, the confidence, the attraction, the dancing and singing and screaming and hugging and kissing and high fives and freaking Brad breakdancing!  I mean, SHIT!

On this weekend, I think I started to turn a page.  Maybe not even this weekend, but something feels different TODAY.  Something seems to be missing.  Some voice of dread seems like it's not there.  Maybe it was just the alcohol killing what little ability I have left to reason, or maybe this is real.  Maybe, just maybe, I can start to enjoy the future again.  Maybe I can love the unexpected tomorrow.  Maybe.  

I'm already looking forward to seeing if I can, which is a damn fine start. 

Right Now - 26/12/09 4:26 PM

I'm sitting on my bed, if you can call it that, on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. And just now, I decided to start writing again.  I've decided not to advertise that I am writing, but instead let people find it, if they do, and if not, that's okay too.  But for now, this blog is for me.  It's my private diary, in a way, made public.  It's me being as honest as I can to myself, but keeping myself in check, still diving into reasons I might not share.  This is my life, again, as best as I can record it, in only the ways I want it recorded.  This time it will be for me.  

I've been reading a book about "Buddhist Psychology" given to me by Margo, my ex-girlfriend's mother, after finishing Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol yesterday.  I chose to spend this Christmas alone, and believe me, it's lonely.  I think, in the end, I'm fundamentally lonely.  I question why I've done so much separation lately, and I think it's because I don't feel like I fit in and I feel weak.  With the combination of the two, I don't follow myself, but instead lose myself and follow others.  

I think I did a good job of that in Costa Rica, eventually being too distant from myself to even enjoy the sunset without thinking about what people were thinking about me at that time.  I drank more and more, surfed more and more, and frankly had a great time - but didn't connect with myself.  

And I started waiting.  I sat by idly, positive that the next "it" would come along and sweep me off of my feet.  But it didn't.  

And so I waited.  I kept options open.  I came back to Oklahoma for the wedding, and brought all of my stuff, but left Jake.  I wanted to be ready when "it" came.  I kept moving - horseback riding in Moab and Aspen; hanging with Kris in Denver; a weekend trip to see my beloved friends in San Francisco.  But it didn't come.  

In San Francisco I finally decided to move back to Costa.  It had been far too long since I had seen Jake, and the states were getting colder.  I wasn't welcome anymore where I had been staying, rightfully so.  I hadn't started working.  And damnit, I missed the surf.  I missed my Costa Rican family.  At the very least, in Costa people don't judge.  They are generally all just wonderful and supportive.  And as long as I was waiting for "it," I might as well be surrounded by love and waves.  

But something was missing.  I'd been waiting at this point for perhaps five months, and nothing.  Now, I had had some amazing adventures: Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Colorado, California, Oklahoma - mountains and beaches, snow and surf.  But it was all just killing time.  It was all just waiting until it came around.  And in the meantime, waiting for Hazel to be born, and for Christmas to come around.  All waiting.  

And then Megan found out I had planned on moving back to Costa.  Before I could buy my return ticket, she forced me in the car to go to Doug's office so she could sign some papers.  It took the two of them in Doug's conference room for me to realize - I found it.  

It was right here.  It is right here.  I had just been to blind to see!  My purpose, my meaning in life, my everything was right here before my eyes!  So simple!  It is...

Wait... Taking a step back, the biggest part of my problem was not that I was lazy - certainly my life's adventures showed I was willing to get up off of my ass.  No, my biggest "problem" was that I could find no reason to do anything.  In a way, my journey had taken away all purpose, all meaningfulness.  I now no longer saw "good" and "bad" - I just saw things as they were.  I definitely saw suffering, but it was far beyond me how I could alleviate it, and if I could, whether that was a worthwhile endeavor.  I knew I had found nothing worth teaching, because what I had actually found was just that - nothing.  

And so I had become, well, dormant.  Nothing mattered, so why should I do anything?

But then it hit me.  When faced with no meaning in life, when faced with no purpose, there are two roads.  The first, which I had been on, is to despair.  To sit idly and stare at the world.  Wait.  Which was horrible.  But in that little office, it hit me.  In a way, what I had been waiting for came.  It.  

Purpose.  Meaning.  Life.  It.  

So simple!  And here it is. Without it, there can be no other purpose, no other meaning, no other reason for living than to search for it.  It, for me, right now, simply put, is the search for it.  

Oh, but don't think for a second I need to find it!  Because I already have.  I don't need to find anything, because it's right here.  But what I do need to do is search.  Because the search is my purpose.  

Perhaps some day that purpose will change.  Perhaps I will find another it in this search.  And when I do, this it will become the it of the past.  Perhaps not.  Perhaps I will confine myself to the search for it for the rest of my life.  And that will be wonderful too.  

And so I sit.  Alone.  On this unmade bed with Jake on the floor by my side.  Many have asked if I have found it yet on my search.  They ask whether working for "the man" in Washington is part of it.  They ask whether closing down Nova with Doug is the it I was waiting for.  How much people want me to be something other than who I am.  My answer is "yes."  I have found it.  Yes, working here in Washington is part of it.  Yes, having ridiculous, sinful fun is part of it.  Christmas alone.  Pain, pleasure.  Happiness, sadness.  It's all part of it.  Learning thai, relearning SPSS, talking politics with fascists, sweeping the floor, throwing snowballs at Jake.  

Am I satisfied?  Not really.  But at least I have found purpose again.  Am I following it at all costs?  Absolutely not.  And I'm not any happier.  In fact, I'm probably sadder.  I'm practicing.  I'm warming up.  I'm stretching.  

It's all part of it.  

Last Post

This will be my final post, at least for some time.  I find that blogging limits my freedom to be authentic, and so I'm going to stop it.  

Free Will

Don't read this if you are really interested in seeing Angels and Demons or reading the book.  This doesn't spoil the ending, but I describe a scene at the end which may ruin it for some of you.  

I finished watching the movie Angels and Demons the other day, which I downloaded from the internet to my computer and watched on this beautiful afternoon from a hammock on my porch here in Costa Rica.  At the very end, the cardinal that was in charge of the enclave says, "Thanks be to God for sending you to save our church."  Dr. Langdon replies, "You know I don't believe that he sent me."  And the cardinal says, "Oh my son, of course he did."  The newly elected pope is then shown giving Dr. Langdon a nod and before being presented to the awaiting public.  

I think what got me more than anything is the lack of appreciation shown directly to Dr. Langdon.  He was given a small gift by the cardinal, and only a nod by the new pope.  It's as if it awakened a part of me that I had lost in the past few months.  The cardinal and pope did not thank Dr. Langdon because they do not believe Dr. Langdon had a choice in the matter.  Dr. Langdon was just doing as God had determined.  And interestingly, I feel the same way - or at least have felt the same way, but have recently forgotten.  

Part of my spiritual transformation has been giving up the sense of control.  At the retreat I went to in Northern California, they have a saying that "everyone is at fault, but nobody is to blame."  Basically, it's an understanding that because a person is made up of his experiences, genetics, education, one can not give blame to that individual for any action.  Any negativity in the world is caused by something we have learned, some reaction that is not of our own making but instead some process or pattern that lives inside of us, but is not us.  If I get angry because you are late, I am at fault for my anger, but I am not to blame for my anger because it is a pattern I learned perhaps from my parents as a child when I witnessed my mother getting angry at my father for being tardy.  I was not in control in that reaction, but instead that pattern that lives in me was in control, and therefore I can not accept the blame.  

So, that's a concept that's relatively easy for me to grasp.  But can we then take credit for positives?  The cardinal and the pope both seemed to believe a human can not take credit for even extraordinary actions.  Our lives are in the hands of God, and we can not take credit for something over which we have no control.  And I agree!  I believe we are all acting as humans, through learned responses over which we don't have control, or on behalf of our spirits, which I don't see as separate or individualized.  Really, I feel our differences are human, but are spirits are all one.  Individually, therefore, we actually have no control, and therefore no blame or credit.  Blame for negativity can be given to the collective human experience, and credit for positivity can be given to the collective spirit.  

Really, this is a discussion of an individual's free will, and it also touches on responsibility, I guess.  I tend to believe that things happen the only way that they can, but I still believe in free will.  When looking backwards, it's easy to see that there was only one way possible, because the past can not be changed.  It happened in just the one way it could have.  But when looking at the present, I still have the feeling of free will.  Very strange.  

But because I look at the past and recognize that things happened the only way that they could, and tend to believe nobody is to blame or deserves credit, I find it very easy to forgive (I never really even have to as I don't really assign blame) and I have gratitude not to individuals but to the universe as a whole.  

For everyone, that is, except for myself.  I find it a lot easier to take blame and credit away from others than I find it to take away from myself.  I am struggling with decisions right now that seem enormously important, and I act as if my choice will be judged at some point in the future as good or bad - and I too will be judged based upon my choices.  And I'm pretty sure I know who that judge will be - because I have had feelings overwhelming guilt lately - judging my past actions as if they could have somehow been different than they were.  Hating myself despite the fact that I was blind.  Acting as if I know good and bad - acting like I can see clearly now.  Pain instead of compassion.  Hate instead of love.  

I guess it's time to find my way back to love. 

I'm the voice of one crying in the wilderness...

This blog started as a "Right Now," so hence the picture.  Please forgive me.  

Ahh, Sunday.  Much like Saturday.  And Friday.  All the days seem to be just the same right about now.  Surfing, reading, watching.  I feel like I'm waiting, but don't have anything to wait for.  

I've thought a lot about writing some of the things I've found interesting in the New Testament.  There's so much, though, and I certainly don't want to make this blog too much about religion or Jesus.  I'm now almost done with the four gospels.  I would say that if there are three things I have found in the Bible so far, that are that:

1. The accounts of Jesus don't show someone that is all love, forgiveness, and hope.  In fact, Jesus is frequently vengeful.  He's quoted as saying "If you're not with me, you're against me."  (Obviously I'm not quoting directly, because old English is silly, kinda like England English today.  Just silly.)  He tells his disciples at one point to shake the dust off of their shoes when leaving towns that don't accept them as a sign for Jesus to send them to hell when he returns.  In a couple of the gospels, he's quoted as saying "How long must I suffer thee?"  Another - "I come not to send peace, but a sword."  Sheesh!  Throughout all of the gospels, people fear Jesus and God, even when he has saved a life or cured blindness.  Don't get me wrong, I am sure that he is far more compassionate than the vast majority in his time (in John they try to stone him at least twice without any type of trial).  He has some wonderful loving things to say.  But he still preaches fear and hatred as a stick behind the carrot of heaven.  "But those mine enemies, which would not that I should reign over them, bring hither, and slay them before me."  Of course, followed a few pages later with "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."  Confusing, right?  
2. It's incredibly inconsistent.  Not just between gospels, but actually within them.  For example, in just Luke, Jesus is quoted as saying both "If you're not with me, you're against me" AND "If you're not against me, you're with me."  Two totally different positions, one far more compassionate and inclusive than the other.  When Jesus dies on the cross, it's written that he either cries out asking God why God has forsaken him (yeah, amazing, right?), or instead cries out asking God to take him.  I think one can find some good morals of the story in the gospels, but I find it really hard to base one's life morality on such contradictions.   
3. Jesus has some really bad parables.  Some are REALLY bad.  He says he uses parables so that the blind can see.  While his disciples may be able to understand his direct speech, parables help those who don't have the ability to understand like his disciples.  I actually dig this - it's as if they're meant to get around the intellect and into the subconscious.  Oddly, though, after almost every parable, Jesus has to explain the parable to his disciples.  And some of them flat out don't make sense.  On the other hand, one in particular struck me - A householder hires some men, and agrees to pay them a penny for a day's work.  Throughout the day, he continues to hire men, still agreeing to pay them a penny to work for that day.  At the end of the day, the people hired first in the morning are upset because the people that were hired later in the day received the same amount of compensation despite not working as long as those that started in the morning.  The householder's response is perfect: "Is thine eye evil, because I am good?" It definitely beats the parable about throwing seeds to the wayside, on a rock, in thorns, and on good ground, which doesn't help illustrate a point at all and makes you wonder why he didn't just say what he meant in the first place.   

Wow, I find myself going back and adding more and more.  Maybe I should dedicate a blog to the Bible.  Or write a book about it.  Nobody's ever done that.  I guess what I am finding is that Jesus was far from perfect.  He was a man, whether the son of God or not.  That's one of the things my mom loves about Jesus, and I guess we all have to accept.  In the end, I guess we're all human.  

In the end, there are some wonderful parts of the Bible.  John has definitely been my favorite of the gospel writers, as he has a very poetic way of following the story, and he also shows a more human side of Jesus in his friendship with Lazarus, Martha, and Mary.  He's also got a great sense of humor, like when one future disciple asks "Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?" when he first hears that the Son of God has come from Nazareth.  I feel the same about Texas.  Jesus even jokes around with Nathanael when Nathanael first believes Jesus is the Son of God simply because Jesus saw Nathanael under a fig tree at one point.  There are some beautiful quotes, such as: 

• "No prophet is accepted in his own country."
  
• "For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, and lose himself."
• Oh, this isn't really a great quote, but I find it really funny.  Any time someone seeks revenge on someone else, regret of that person comes in the form of "weeping and gnashing teeth."  It's all over the gospels.  
• "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
• "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness."  AWESOME, right?  Obviously that's from John.  I want to write a book and entitle it that.  I am going to go move to a cabin in the woods somewhere and do that now.  MAN, I love that quote.  
• "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is everyone that is born of the Spirit."  

I just wrote a long paragraph about being directionless and still searching for meaning, but erased it.  I am just using words that make it seem like I am lost, and so I'm believing I am lost. Really, I'm just not inclined to move in a certain direction today.  Here is just fine.  My mind is trying to figure shit out.  It's trying to figure out what is best for me, when it doesn't have any way of every knowing.  It needs to chill.  I'm missing home (the Oklahoma one) a lot.  I'm missing Kris a lot.  And those emotions are making it harder on my mind to step back and concern itself with the execution, not with the policy.  I need to chill.  Pressure certainly won't get me anywhere.  I hear the sound, but can't tell from where it comes, or where it goes.  

In any event, I'm excited as hell to go home in a couple of weeks.  I can't wait to see Megan with her big ole belly.  I'm really looking forward to seeing Ryan and spending more time with him while he still looks like a peanut (does he?).  Family, friends, even Neil.  I'm a little nervous about seeing Kris, too, who I guess I'll see at the wedding.  Actually, I'm really excited about it.  Not sure if she'll want to chat or even say hi, but I hope so.  If not, that's okay too.  I guess.  I'm looking forward to taking Aaron on in Golden Tee.  And having a scotch with Terry.  And maybe dinner at Mamasita's with Douggie.  Wonder if I'll get the chance to watch the Sooners with sooner fans for the first time in, geez, a year?  

And then?  Who knows.  Maybe I'll head off to the wilderness for a month or many and write a book, or just watch my thoughts.  Maybe I'll find a way to travel to Africa.  Maybe I'll come back to my family in Costa.  Maybe I'll find that it's time for the mountains.  Or maybe it's time to spend some time at home and suck on some candy canes in December.  

For now though, I'm loving the waves on the longest vacation of my life.  It's hard to feel sorry for myself when I'm surrounded by such beauty - flowers, sun, beach, ocean, amazing people, Jake, sunsets.  It's all wonderful.  

Weeping and gnashing teeth.  Ha!

10 Days in Review

As my mom has probably noticed (and Kent too, who I haven't heard from in YEARS), I haven't blogged in a while.  So, like cheesy 80's movies - such as Rocky - I am going to do a montage to catch us all up.  

Okay, got home.  Check.  

Interlude - the loudest cricket EVER is doing his thing right now.  Seriously, it's deafening.  Sorry, you're probably not interested.  

Right, so got home.  Nothing happened.  I found myself surfing, reading the Bible, and watching US Open tennis.  I'm living with a guy who seems to always be watching tennis.  And so when I am not surfing or reading, I find myself watching tennis.  And I get into it sometimes.  There's a really cute girl who's name starts with W that is doing well.  That's my US Open tennis update.  

Okay, the Full Moon Party happened.  My friend, Lee, who watches tennis, DJ'd the party, and was absolutely awesome.  Had oldschool turntables, played a very eclectic mix ranging from funk to, well, something a long way away from funk.  It was super fun.  And I don't want to tell on the town or anything, but someone showed up with a bunch of mushroom tea, and a good portion of the town had a least a few gulps.  Of course, I didn't.  But, I did end up in a pink wig, wearing a dress, going commando, while dancing behind (and on - yeah) the bar.  But I repeat, I did not have any mushroom tea.  Here's a pic of Jenny spinning some fire, one of three roommates at the turntables, and a picture for your enjoyment and future blackmail or extortion if I decide to run for office. 

Okay, other things: Scott, Randall, Sean, Shilka, and I watched Costa Rica lose to freaking some team in blue the other day in the World Cup qualifiers.  While the game doesn't mean a whole lot to me personally, and I generally don't like watching a lot of soccer, we had an absolute blast (at least until the freaking blue team scored in the 90th minute).  It's fun when you decide to just go all out in cheering.  Here's a pic of us having fun.  

Jeni's gone again.  That's sad for me, but she'll be back in a few months.  It's kinda strange just not having her around, as she was kinda my go to friend to do pretty much anything.  I'm very much getting used to people coming and going.  There are actually very few people in town these days.  

I bought a new board!  Down to a 6'4"!  Which is strange, because I am actually considering going back to Oklahoma for an extended period to regroup.  We'll see.  

There's a great surf tournament going on in Oeste this weekend!  Gilbert Brown, Jason Torres, and our hometown hero Cali are all competing, as are some good amateur friends that are just enjoying the waves and surfing with these guys that you have probably never heard of.  Today was absolutely beautiful.  Jake and I spent most of the day watching the competition, hoping to catch some waves late, but never got around to it.  

Oh, yesterday though, Jake beat the break and swam around our boards for an hour as Pat, Brett, and I surfed some nice waves out front.  Every 20 minutes or so I invited Jake to take a break and climb on my board with me (I borrowed a longboard).  I'll need a special board, but Jake will surf within the next two weeks.  Mark my words.  Here's a picture of Jake at the tournament today, so you all know he's still alive.  

I'm ridiculously tan.  Nobody has ever been tanner than me.  All of the ticos look yellow next to me.  Two months of vacation in Costa Rica does this to people.  Oh, and I don't think I have swine flu.  It seems it's just a coincidence.  Or is it?

Okay, that's all I got now.  There's some US Open tennis on that requires my attention.  Has anyone seen my razor?  

Do I Have Swine Flu?

Umm, so, the President of Costa Rica got swine flu just before I left for Colombia.  The President of Colombia got swine flu just before I left Colombia.  And NOW, after just leaving Ecuador, the Head of Security for the President of Ecuador has died of H1N1.  

Sheesh.

Relying on Intuition

A friend of mine, Erik, who went to the same retreat as I several years before me writes a daily quote on his facebook account from his home in Aspen.  They pop up on my wall, and I read them from time to time.  Anyway, today's I really liked.  It's the concept I have been trying to express for the past year and a half since I decided to start making decisions not from an intellectual position, but instead from my spirit.  Anyway, here's the quote:

 "Whenever we need to make a very important decision, it is best to trust to impulse, to passion, because reason usually tries to remove us from our dream, saying that the time is not yet right. Reason is afraid of defeat, but intuition enjoys life and its challenges." - Paulo Coelho

Coelho, of course, wrote The Alchemist, which is a book I have written about here several times.  How much easier it seems for us to make intellectual decisions than face our fears and make intuitive decisions that may at first seem irrational.  If you are unable to trust your intuition, and need a rational reason to do so, read Blink.  Our intuition is so much smarter than our intellect, and takes into account so much more than our conscious minds ever could.  Use your intellect, body, and emotions to gather all of the information you can before making a decision, but then rely on your intuition to make the decision, and your use your intellect only to execute.    

By the way, another quote from Erik's wall:

"Surrender is faith that the power of love can accomplish anything... even when you can not foresee the outcome." - Deepak Chopra

Vago

WARNING: THIS GETS PREACHY.  

So, I had an interesting conversation with a friend a few days ago in Peru.  I just like saying that.  A few days ago, in Peru, I was talking to this friend... Anyway, Marion accused me of being lazy.  And, of course, I am.  So she's spot on.  But it got me thinking about this term that we use, and the ways in which we use it.  

Dictionary.com defines lazy as "adverse or disinclined to work, activity, or exertion."  Don't you love the word "disinclined," by the way?  But back to lazy.  Marion was accusing me of being lazy because I don't want to get a job.  I would prefer to not have a job.  Which isn't really true, though.  I would love to have someone pay me - it's really just that I don't want to do things outside of what I want to do to make that money.  And so, really, I just don't want to do things that I don't want to do.  When Marion met me, I was actually doing a lot!  I was traveling throughout South America.  In the days we spent together I went for several swims, I played a lot of ping pong, I got up one morning at 6:30 to catch some early waves and have a two session day, I ate ceviche for breakfast and bought fruits I'd never had to make juice, I had new and unique conversations with perfect strangers about laziness.  And yet I was being accused of being lazy because I don't have a job!  

And I've noticed this everywhere, really.  If you're not doing something you don't want to do - you're lazy!  How backwards are we?  Instead of aspiring to do only what we want to do, and commending those that have reached that stage for whatever reason, we use a derogatory term to refer to those that get to do what they want to do, and we compliment those that neglect themselves in order to make money or keep their status quo.  

So, as I sit here in beautiful Costa Rica, jobless, eating some canned pork and beans for breakfast, thinking about going for a late morning surf session after I make some travel arrangements to fly back to my home state to see the most wonderful people in the world (not you Neil), I have decided to change our use of the word lazy.  From now on, anyone who is disinclined to follow what they really want to do because they are too afraid of getting outside of their comfortable little work-sleep box I will call lazy.  And for those of you that are out there, doing the things that they have always wanted to do, taking opportunities and truly seizing the day, I will commend you.  Stop reading other people's blogs, following news stories about other people, or facebook stalking an ex-boyfriend.  Go live your life!  

I don't mean that you're lazy if you get paid - of course not!  You're not even lazy if you get paid doing something you don't want to do.  But you're a lazy SOB if you are neglecting yourself because you don't want to exert the energy after work to find a sailboat for a sunset cruise, or if you're too afraid of what your friends would think if you got up to dance, or if you're too afraid of rejection to even introduce yourself to that guy at the other end of the bar.  Snap out of it.  Don't turn on that TV tonight.  Go home and make a delicious dinner for you and your wife.  And pick up some flowers on the way.  When you feel like you should do something, do it.  Stop procrastinating.  Just go do it.  Pick up some paint and throw it on a wall or on a canvass.  Stop waiting to live your life.  Live it now.    

That got a little preachy for a Tuesday morning.  I think I'll put on some pants and make myself a smoothie to wash down those beans.  That's what I really want to do right now.  

Las Lajas

So, the virgin Mary appeared on a sheer rock canyon face a couple hundred feet above the river below near the town of Ipiales, Colombia.  And the Catholic church decided to commemorate the apparition with an absolutely beautiful church, built right on the sheer rock wall.  And they called it Las Lajas, which literally translated means The Lajas.  

The place is stunning.  Breathtaking, really.  I visited it while waiting for the bus in Ipiales (it's only about 10km away).  A particularly interesting part of the church is that the rock faces surrounding the church are filled with hundred of plaques giving thanks to Mary from families all around Colombia and Ecuador.  I took a lot of pictures at first, but then just went in and, well, prayed.  Not really to anyone, but just did a check in, and kinda talked to myself.  And I actually felt very peaceful.  And here's where I get strange - so brace yourself. 

At the retreat I went to in Northern California, we did a lot of visualizations.  In many of our visualizations, we visualize a certain previously unknown person who is our "spiritual guide," who helps us stay on our spiritual paths.  Each person visualizes his spiritual guide differently, and nobody actively chooses how to visualize his spiritual guide.  The guide just kinda comes to us.  It's been over a year and a half since the retreat, and so I know how strange this sounds to people, but this visioning helps enormously in my ability myself and be authentic.  My spiritual guide, for example, is named Emily, and looks a lot like the Liv Tyler playing the elven princess in the Lord of the Rings.  Again, I didn't choose this, she's just who came.  In my visualizations, I frequently ask her questions, ask for her help, or just listen to her and what she has to say.  I bet Liv would find that strange.  I think I may have just lost a lot of friends by sharing this, but anyway... 

While in the Lajas cathedral, I went into a visualization, and to my surprise, my spiritual guide came to me appearing as Mary.  And it was really interesting to me how similar Mary was to Emily.  Almost identical, actually.  Now, I don't believe in the Christian god, nor do I believe Jesus was any more a son of god than I am.  But there was something very soothing about Mary.  In her appearance to me, and in the images of her throughout the world, Mary is very much the personification of love.  In the statues around the church and the painting above the alter, Mary always has the look of compassion, understanding, and acceptance.  The same that has been provided to me by Emily.  And I felt at peace, there in the church dedicated to Mary, as Mary approached in place of my spiritual guide. 

Doesn't she kind resemble the virgin Mary?

And I now better understand the thousands of plaques giving thanks to Mary.  I guess to millions of Christians around the world, Mary is much like my Emily - a source of unconditional love and a guide to stay on that path of love.  And for me, Mary's very much become the same - her image now serving as a reminder to me of that compassion and acceptance which I so often lose connection with.  

Thank God only my mother reads this blog. 

Looks Like I'll Make It

I ran into a little problem on the border between Ecuador and Colombia, and thought I just might not make it.  Turns out that when I went to Immigration at the Ecuadorian border, the Ecuadorian side did not stamp my passport nor register that I was back in the country.  Which made me illegal.  Which means against the law.  On the Peruvian border, the immigration officer told me I didn't need another one, because I still have time on my old stamp.  It seemed strange, sure, but it was the middle of the night, I was mostly asleep, and I was trying to deal at the same time with an Israeli who didn't get an exit from Peru and desperately needed my help with translation.  

SO, today, when I showed up to check out of Ecuador, they said that they had to turn me in for being in the country illegally.  And that it costs a lot to get out of a situation like that.  They said $200.  

So, the negotiation starts at $200.  But here's the deal - as you may have seen in my last post, I ain't got no $200.  I don't have $2.  Or do I?

I pleaded.  I begged in spanish, and I said again and again how I didn't have any money.  I told them I had just enough to get to Cali and pay my exit tax.  I told them how I couldn't even afford a place to stay tonight, or I wouldn't be able to get out of Colombia.  And I BEGGED.  

But it didn't work.  They held my passport.  They wouldn't return it.  So finally, I said to the guy, okay.  He took me to the back room.  There, I told him that I could part with $10, and that's it.  Really that's it.  I haven't eaten in the past 36 hours because of my stomach, which has saved me some cash.  And so $10 I could actually afford.  And he agreed that it was enough to pay my fine.  Note: It absolutely was to pay a legitimate fine, and was in no way a bribe.  At no time have I ever or will I ever offer bribes to government officials in any country, nor would the fine people at the Ecuadorian migration office accept one.  

Bastards.    

And so he gave me my passport.  And he gave me an exit stamp (which will be interesting to see what happens next time I go to Ecuador with two exits and only one entrance).  

BUT, I'm on my way.  I'm back in Colombia, the place of my birth.  I'm hanging out in the border town of Ipiales for a couple of hours, waiting for a late enough bus to get me into Cali in at least some daylight.  I just ate a quarter chicken - my first meal in 36 hours.  It was awesome, and my stomach seems like it might handle it.  I also haven't had any water.  I had to be on busses for 7 hours or so, with no toilets, so I didn't want to upset and potential balance I had in my belly.  And I made it.  I'm getting on another bus in an hour or so, and should be in Cali as the sun rises.  I'm legal, I've got enough cash to get out of the country, and I've got a ticket that will get me damn close to the airport.  All of these things were weighing on my mind as I left Quito (those and the little stomach problems I was having) - and now I can just relax, get some water, and enjoy the cruise north.  

REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK TO COSTA!

Right Now - 29/8/09 3:47 PM

Right, well, I guess I didn't learn my lesson about the food.  Or maybe it was taking a shot of scorpion infused firewater.  Or maybe it is just life.  But I'm sick again.  This time no fever yet, but man my stomach is messed up.  But I look pretty tough with this bruise/gash on my face from two nights ago.  I look like I could mess you up.  But I can't.  Not with these dainty wrists.  

I'm in Quito.  I got here at 4:00 AM this morning.  I'm sick of getting places in the middle of the night, really.  I got here, not feeling great, and I was a bit stressed.  I took city busses all the way from the South end of Quito to the airport in the north.  I still didn't have a return flight, and the phone was difficult for two reasons: 1) I don't have the money to both make the phone calls AND make it to the flight; and 2) Copa airlines is retarded.  Maybe they're drunk.  

Anyway, after passing the airport, and then coming back to it, I finally determined that the central office of Copa, in downtown Quito, is the only office that can help me.  AND - they don't open until Monday.  So, I decided to make my way back to old town on some busses to try to find a place to rest, and perhaps find some internet so I can call Copa in the US for free on Skype.  

Right, well, after stealing another $50 from mom's credit card without her permission, I got a flight (thanks Mom) from the phone here at my hostel (Secret Garden in Old Quito).  And I don't have to go all the way to Bogota, which I can't tell you how good that is.  Here's the situation - I don't have the money to BOTH go to Bogota AND pay my departure tax.  I've done some studying online to tell me what my departure tax is, and while the answer varies widely, it seems like it's about $30.  I've got $50 and about $50 in pesos (Colombian variety).  The pesos should get me to Cali and leave approximately $25.  That leaves $5 I have to pay from my US cash.  I'll have to pay $8 to get to Colombia.  I'll have to pay $20 for lodging tonight, dinner tonight, and breakfast this morning and tomorrow morning.  Four meals between breakfast tomorrow and my flight (assuming two meals a day), each at $4, is $16.  That leaves me with - wait for it - $1.  $1 when I get on the plane.  Wow.  WOW.  Wow.  Wow.  Let's hope the tax isn't $32.  Maybe I can make it without dinner tonight. 

Regardless, in spite of my stomach and my absolutely horrendous money planning - both worldly concerns, I know - I'm in good spirits.  Mom, I got some pedialyte at the pharmacy, so I'll get all my electrolytes back.  I'm going to go lay down and watch a movie.  Haven't done that in a while.  

OH!  On the stairs between the first and second floors is a quote from Einstein, which I felt was right in line with Steve's comment the other day.  I never think about the future - it comes soon enough.  

Montanita - Meaning: Awesome

So, I guess what I really needed was just to get silly drunk.  And by silly drunk, I mean stupid drunk.  And by stupid drunk, I mean retarded drunk.  Awesome.  Let’s see some highlights:

• Rum and cokes to start at the hostel with the leftover rum from Alausi that has crossed the Peruvian border – twice. 
  
• Pizza and beer dinner with three Canadians and four German girls. 
  
• “Flaming Ecuador” shots with the gang.  The bartender rewarded me with a shot from a bottle filled with aguardiente and, get this, scorpions.  Not kidding you.  Oh, he set it on fire for me too. 
  

Morning after with the bottle of scorpions.  

• A serious danceoff – shirtless – with a local black guy for the affection of three Ecuadorian women. 

• I won.  

• Girls giving me lots of drinks - they drank free so they kept putting their straws to my mouth.  In spite of David's warning, I consumed.  And upon waking up - I still have my corneas.  No lesson learned there.  
• Mostly naked (all male) swimming with the Canadians in a pool at the bar.  Nobody joined us.  My boxer shorts have huge holes in them.  Locals took note.
  

• A dog fight in the bar, followed by an “I got this,”  and me joining the dog fight in an attempt to bite them back.
  
• Another dance off, this time involving the “worm” and a kick to my face - seriously.  And this time on stage.  And this time soaking wet after our swim.  This is when I became legendary, I think.
  

• Bloody face from the kick, and a bloody lip from an Ecuadorian girl with a biting fetish. 
  
• How does one lose a SOCK at a bar?  And just one!  
• Awesomeness.  

 

I’m on the bus on the way to Puerto Lopez, and it’s absolutely beautiful loking over the beaches from up on this small mountain. 

 

I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun in one night.  I think it was Fred’s party with the pink boa back in Marchish.  I had a blast with the Germans and the Canadians, and felt like life-long friends.  This afternoon, as I was heading to the bus stop, a local  that I did not know at all saw me passing and said, “Brian! Estas saliendo? Puedes quedar aqui!”  In other words, people know me.  I’m kind of a big deal. 

 

So, that was fun.  It’s hard leaving all the time though.  But now I’m heading to Quito if I can.  I still don’t have a flight home (that’s a long story), but I think I’ll try just going to the airport in Quito and seeing if they can help me there.  If not, I’ll head on to Colombia I guess, and figure it out there.  

Oh, I'm ridiculously low on money.  Maybe I can sell this Bible.