Vacations

i have strange relationship with vacations and the word vacation. The word conjures up visions of white people all over the world having people of color serving them hand and foot like slaves. There is no greater example of white privilege than vacations and how they are constructed in my experience. Where women do what they would never do at home and almost always regret, and men get drunk and cheat on the women that love them. Somehow folks think the are Karmically exempt on vacations. Shopping in malls in every corner of the globe still is shopping and making rich white people richer. The Gap in milan is the same as the Gap in Seoul and in downtown madison, wi, usa. The excuse to spend wrecklesslly and treat the human body like a terrorist holding your child for ransom is obscene to me. So in that sense, i hate vacations. There are very few things in the world i hate- that definition of vacation is one of the select group.

OK, so what do i see as a vacation that is not despicable to me? Time off to meditate, walk, bike ride, camp, write, paint, sleep, sing, hike, snuggle, be with those i love, meet new people on adventures, push beyond my comfort zone, enter communities quietly and humbly, not as a tourist or vacationer. Help out a local organization while there. Drop by the local parks and visit with people who talk to you because you are a nice person, not because you paid them to be nice to you. Stay in a youth hostel, raizon, or a guest house. Be with real people with real lives. Walk gently and leave no foot print. Beaches are my favorite places for time away from home. Mountains are not far behind but it is still beaches when given the opportunity.

If never have tried it, traveling through Couch Surfing Project is my favorite way to travel. The CS project is an international community of over 600,000 folks who offer their homes and or time to help your stay in their community feel like home, a real home with real people who are nice because they are nice. There are no financial transactions made and i have made many great friends and companions that continue to be in my life.

Traveling by train is a ton of fun too. It is slow, calm, gentle and a continual sense of meditative peacefulness. Beats airports, airplanes, buses and cars by a long shot. And you get to see the sites without adding traffic or pollution to the communities that you pass through! They still get to live their lives while you can appreciate their environment.

I do not like having external commitments. That is the main function of vacations for me. I meditate when the Higher Self says it is time. I walk when the Higher Self says its time. Eating, sleeping, napping, playing and everything else follow that same blueprint. I enjoy meeting and watching new people in different places. I learn so much about me and us- our similarities and differences. We are such an interesting species. Visiting Temples Churches and Synagogues is my favorite part of most trips. I love learning how others relate to the Divine.

I rarely have the sense of "needing to get away". I like my life and what i do in it. In fact, vacations and weekends are almost identical, just vacations are in a different location without the comfort of sleeping and cooking in my space with my energy surrounding me. I usually miss home after a few days but enjoy the time experiencing different people, energies and environments.

All It Takes is The Courage to Step Out

I remember as a child hearing about all the protests and riots. It was the sixties, when young and old were inspired by the force of change. People were willing to risk their jobs, education, families and freedom to stand for what they believed in. I have vague memories of feeling that I too wanted to be part of The Movement, The Revolution.
By the time I was old enough, the voices had been silenced and I was swirling in Hurricane Cocaine. 



Tonight I watched the movie Walkout. WOW! I cried about every ten minutes, I was moved to the core by the force of the collective human spirit. It seems there is nothing we can't achieve together when inspired by the Higher Good. 


I was trembling with the illustrations of the suffering Chicano students in East L.A. during the sixties.

Why do we do this to each other?

Why is "Looking out for #1" such a way of life for us?

Have we had enough yet?

Several times during the movie, I reflected on how comfortable we have become as a culture in the last thirty years. Where has that collective human spirit gone?

Has taking care of our own, replaced taking care of each other?

Have we had enough yet?

This past January, I reformatted one of the programs I am involved with to include a Youth March on MLK Day. Four hundred or so, predominantly youth of color, put on their coats and bared eighteen-degree weather during a heavy snowstorm to march for youth education and rights, much like the Chicano students did in East L.A. If you have ever participated in any marches/protests, especially a youth lead rally, it reaches deep down inside in a way that few things in life can. 




Abraham Herschel once said something to the effect of, "Marching is praying with your feet". When was the last time you prayed with your feet?

Have we had enough yet?

Please watch Walkout. It is a powerful experience. I can't imagine what the real events must have been like for those high school students. 


Have we had enough yet?

There is More Work to be Done

Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo. I will eat at a Mexican restaurant here in Charlottesville, VA. So far, it seems like a great town and UV is really nice. The students all seem soft and friendly.

I’m sitting in my van in a mostly empty parking garage a little past midnight. I was at the library but it just closed. How does a library close at midnight on the Sunday night before finals week? I was online catching up on stuff, emailing couch surfers and one of my former supervisors at the Urban League Ed. Oh yeah, I applied for a job at Villa Julie U in Maryland in my shorts, t-shirt and sandals.

Today was my second travel day after leaving Danbury. Somehow my door fixed itself enough for me to be able to open and close my door to get I and out but more importantly- push the switch that opens my gas lid on the outside of the van. I stuck a small mirror that I bought to be a temporary replacement for the driver’s side mirror, which was crushed. Not the best situation but it works till I get it all fixed. I guess I need to stay somewhere long enough in order for that to happen.

I emailed a bunch of couch surfers earlier this evening but both that responded that they were too busy with exams to host tonight; I will sleep in my van. After I finish writing, I will search for a place for me to hide and rest without being bothering or being bothered by others. This being a college town, I need to be more attentive. It was warm today here, so I will not have to worry about the temperature tonight.

Last night I couch surfed with a young woman who rents a loft out in the country on a horse farm about 30-40 miles from Baltimore and a little further form D.C. She was nice, friendly and accommodating but we really never hit it off. We are different in too many critical ways. A few are pace/speed of life, need for control/freedom and general ease with life. We went to an old town named Ellicott Coty this afternoon. That went better but our variance in walking speed was a little uncomfortable. She lives alone and has no friends in the rural area she lives in. This affected her social skills and need for connection I think.

While being tourists, we visited historic “Colored School” that was restored. The history and feel of the place were re-assuring to me. Somehow I felt hope form being there and seeing and feeling the courage that was necessary for them to have such a school. I take schooling and so many other privileges for granted. This was subtle ad heartfelt reminder of the struggles that many folks have endured and still do. There is more work to be done. We are not free yet.

I have experienced what Reiki students go through that I had not personally felt in a real long time. It is the fall-off in intensity, focus and rhythm after a group intensive. The separation from the Teacher and the group energy has demonstrated that I have just begun this new process with new meditations. What we feel in the force, depth and connection to the energy deceases significantly when we are by ourselves in the world again. I already miss the intensive and the group. There is more work to be done.

Old Bricks

I love the way old bricks feel under my bare feet in the summer. They have many seemingly contradictory but actually contrasting textures; smooth and rough, soft and hard, natural and manufactured. I cam feel some of the cracks on the ball of my foot letting me know they are real. This is especially true when the bricks are old, and time, water and footsteps have created a surface with out any sharp edges. These reed bricks are aged well into greens and browns as well. The William and Mary campus only has red bricks like these on al their walkways.

Leaning back against a short brick wall of three layers equally about eight inches, I feel at home here. The steps, eight in number lead to and from the Sunken Gardens. I still do not know why they are called “gardens” since it is just a grass field, one that I enjoy but still just a field surrounded by a dozen sets of brick steps with a lining of the shrubs on the horizontal sides and trees on the ends. The trees appeal to me more then the shrubs. Shrubs usually look too manicured and un-natural to me, these are no exception. Trees, well they’re tress and tell me great stories, sometimes I can hear them. They tell us where we came from and who we are and our greatness.

There is a white male sunbathing at the far end. He brought a folding chair with him but he is now lying face down on a blanket, no correct that, face up. It is not as easy to tell which is which with a man at a distance as it is for a woman. Women’s sunbathing attire is drastically different front and back, not men's. Why do white people sunbathe? Why do they not like their natural skin color? It s interesting to me that many of the folks who sunbathe are prejudice and discriminate against people of color but spend hours ad days sunbathing every summer trying to get darker. And then they pay to go in microwave-type machines in the winter to further avoid looking like themselves. What is wrong with their skin that they need to try to change races to appear sexy? Why does they attach healthiness to tanning? For people like me, it is not a matter of health or anything else. My skin gets darker even when bike riding in the snow of winter.

If one knows the history of “tanning”, they know that before passenger planes were invented, having a “tan” meant you were a low-income, uneducated outside worker. Those with money and wealth would go to great lengths to not be exposed to the sun to not be confused with “the servants” who had “tanned” during the summer. The came passenger planes and vacations to Florid and other southern USA beach destinations. The cultural climate changes because now having a “tan” in the winter demonstrated wealth. Even “the servants” were not “tan” in the winter like them. Then came the bikini, the supermodel and finally “tanning salons”/microwave ovens for humans. Why do white people want top change their skin color, hair color, nail color, lip color and now with fake colored contact lenses, their eye color so much? If “white is right” then why are they are trying so hard not to be white?

Of course, this is just one example of us humans not accepting ourselves for who we are. White peoples obsession with looking different is not ht beginning nor the most glaring example of lacking self-acceptance. For me personally, this takes many shapes and forms. As an Italian male like many others similar to me, I have a lot of body hair. Depending on the day and my feelings about myself on that day, will determine whether I will be wearing a tank top on the beach or shirtless. Ironically, two of the women that I have been serious partners of mine, partially chose me because they like men with thick dark body hair. But this did nothing to ease my insecurities.

The red bricks are still here. After sitting ion them for a while, my butt is starting to hurt. What felt pleasurable then, now feels rough and stiff on the heals of my feet. Time to go. I say goodbye to a good friend at dinner tonight. I will miss her even though I am the one leaving. I will miss these Sunken Gardens without a garden. Time to go…