The digital journey continues

It seems the more I want to explore the world on foot, the more I find myself  sitting in front of a computer screen. Or maybe I want to explore more on foot precisely BECAUSE I am always in front of a computer screen. Some day this blog about my worldly walkabout will once again include walking about. But in the mean time I pursue my endeavors to document and save the world, and hopefully make a few bucks doing it.

So far, it is mostly none of the above.

The photo site is bursting with photos, with many more to add. There are two issues there. 1) There are about as man people who visit THAT blog as visit THIS one. And that person isn’t all that interested in buying photos. B) The software that allowed me to actually SELL my photos randomly stopped working. Good thing my fan doesn’t want to buy anything!

My Don Quixote complex is running strong. It doesn’t help matters that I actually made a good call recently, not only giving PAX Nation the illusion of exposure, but gaining a few new members, no doubt as crazy as I am. This has encouraged me to push harder, to the point that PAX Nation has now become my main focus. I still want to wander the world. I just might be tilting with all the windmills I encounter along the way.

I also continue to not write my books. By the time I write The Tao of Picnic, my memory of events might border on fiction … which may actually improve said events. Ironically, much of it is already written, since a lot of it will come directly from this blog. I just need to catch that disease called discipline. Unfortunately to catch something one needs to be exposed to it, and my social circle (which essentially includes me and Brown Dog), is severely lacking of infected folk.

I am not sure if I should be proud or ashamed that I managed to make an update for any interested in this blog into a commercial for some of my OTHER blogs. I may not be infected by discipline, but apparently the advertising bug has gotten into my system. Until the next time folks! Maybe I will have something more interesting to share!

A morality tale

Once upon a time there was this man who was feeling mighty lost. Unsure how to deal with the hollow feeling that was plaguing him, he locked himself in a nowhere room for a couple of nights … but found the company very lacking. Since hiding from … whatever it was he was hiding from … seemed ineffective, he decided to start walking. He put his bag on his back, left the nowhere room, and walked to the end of the street. Here, something told him to go right. He walked to the end of THAT street, and something told him to go left. He didn’t really know where he was going, just that forward motion was needed.

He walked. And walked. And walked. Then walked some more. As he walked, worlds were created and destroyed. Thoughts paraded in an endless stream, and then were no more. Sadness opened the floodgates, anger beat holes in the walls, and curiosity did its show and tell. And the man continued to walk.

Sometimes the little voice inside the man, the voice of wisdom … the voice of censure … the voice of creativity … the still small voice that should be heard but is so often ignored … spoke to him. It said that maybe he should ask for directions. The man answered his voice, “How can I ask directions when I don’t know where I am going?” The voice then said that there were people wondering where he was … maybe even concerned about him. Again the man flippantly answered, “I’d tell them where I was if I actually knew.”

In the midst of ugliness ... beauty. Or is it the other way around?

In the midst of ugliness … beauty. Or is it the other way around?

The man walked on.

The still small voice, not to be deterred, got wily. It appealed to the one thing the man rarely ignored … his hunger. With this backup, the man decided that he would stop walking … at least for the moment. He found the nearest place to sit and eat (at this point no longer so near), and stopped his feet for a bit. The still small voice took advantage of the pause, and finally got the lost man’s attention.

After eating, the man considered what the voice had been telling him. He also considered maybe actually picking a destination. As these thoughts bounced around the emptiness inside, a couple with a cute young girl came in to order some food. Shortly thereafter, a woman came in with an equally cute and young boy. As far as the man could tell, these people did not know each other.

This did not deter the young girl. She was so excited to see the young boy, that they were immediately friends. For several minutes they interacted on a level of pure joy, giggling and laughing. It was a pure, innocent moment. It made everyone there, including the lost man, smile with the simple love and happiness of the moment. The man thought to himself, “Yes, that’s it.” The still small voice agreed.

Suddenly the persistent shadows; the enemies of innocence, came rushing into the room. It dawned on the man that his enjoyment of the moment would so easily mark him as something not to be trusted in this world gone mad. He was a nameless wanderer; a stranger. If ANYTHING happened to these children in the immediate future he would be the automatic scapegoat, the demon in the room.

The moment was made. The moment was lost.

Shortly after this stark and ugly thought, the little boy left, and the little girl slipped into a screaming tantrum. The man, always alert for lessons to be learned, wondered what the moral of THIS story was.

Even the still small voice has not answered him yet.

Another excerpt from the Tao of Picnic

My newest manuscript is unfolding moment by moment. I ony hope I have the skill to capture those moments and share them. I wrote this in my recent sojourn into Ohio, and it seems to ALMOST touch the reality of that particular moment, so I figured I would share it here. I hope it will help convince the masses that whatever my end product it will be worth the read.



“At that moment, I realized that I was actually LIVING a Hemingwayish novel. I also realized that I was using my glasses like an old man.”


Picnic looked up. Something had shifted. He felt it in the very center of his being. It was more than the obvious release of tension for everyone in the room, though that was part of it. It was also more than the influence of the salad of mind altering substances he had been exploring lately … though that too was part of it. It was more like he had suddenly left a dark smokey bar to find a brilliant scenic vista from a fantasy world. Blinding at first, but as the eyes adjusted focus became clearer and clearer, and with it both amazement and understanding. The back-up glasses he was now wearing were also playing a role, somehow acting as a filtering lens bringing it all into clarity.

Maybe he was just very stoned. Downright tripping. But he had explored altered consciousness enough throughout his life to sense that … this time … it was so much more than that. He knew without doubt that something significant was about to happen. It was as if his awareness was preparing to step into a whole new level. For the first time a quite a while, Picnic was truly excited for what was to come.

He looked about, taking in the details of the room around him. Sleeping forms, clothing scattered about, a room that was no stranger to the frenzy of high energy people. Dream Girl was a strung bow at full pull … just trying to find her target. The tension this time was far more excitement than stress. Finally! That too was adding to the sense of pending transformation. The Cowboy was coming to get her. Was she ready for him yet? This room, home for the last week, had a definite lived in look, with an atmosphere that was an odd mixture of hope and desperation. Son of Dream Girl and Girlfriend were limb entangled in peaceful slumber, while one of the Lost Boys was deciding what to do with himself for the moment.

Just as it was decided that Picnic, Dream Girl and Lost Boy were going to the store, the peaceful dreamers woke up … and so did the tension again. Healing would be long for this family, but his current level of awareness told Picnic that it WOULD happen. Plans shifted a little, and soon Picnic and Dream Girl were on their way to a little of her favorite stress relief. As soon as they stepped out of the hotel, Picnic’s awareness shifted again, almost splitting. Yet he felt no disorientation this time. The last time he found himself this open eyed he could barely walk a straight line.

I wish I had a way to record all this!” Picnic thought to himself. The writer in him was sure that if he could remember all the details he was now experiencing he could convert a simple few hours into a transcendental novel. The geekier side could totally envision them as an award winning independent movie that would alter lives. However the only truth that really mattered is that for this moment, Picnic had an understanding of What Is that went far beyond words, or even coherent thought. He simply got it. And wished that he cold keep it long enough to even have a remote chance of expressing it with that limited tool called words.

He was creator and observer all at once; the wandering statue; the frozen stream. He was a well flavored stew of emotions, though no specific spice overwhelmed another … all were needed to make it a nutritious meal for the soul. He was here and not here, everywhere and nowhere. Yet he was also simply Picnic, walking along the sparkling path that Dream Girl always left as a wake in her passage. Together they walked the short walk to Target; together they glided through a new doorway to What If.

It’s really going to get interesting now …” Picnic laughed to himself as he picked up his pace to try to catch up to Dream Girl.

Akron, Ohio

loading map - please wait...

Akron, Ohio 41.081445, -81.519005 An eye opening moment