Hate mail

Well my post about my lack of patriotism sure brought out the haters. I will not post their hate because they like to see themselves in print. I never mentioned anything about religion in the post but I guess the haters assume that lack of faith goes along with lack of patriotism. They were right in my case but it is still faulty logic. And I am not a communist or marxist either which was assumed by them as well. Why are the people that spend the most time trying to convince the world that they are the righteous also the most hate filled. Is the hate taught in their religion? I don't think so. Is it because they question their own faith and someone openly saying that they have no faith makes it harder for them to accept their faith? Personally I don't give a rats ass what religious beliefs anybody holds as long as they leave me to my personal choice also. I am not preaching against anyone. My anti patriotic feelings come from historical perspectives that clearly demonstrate the dangers of blind patriotism. "My country right or wrong" is one of the stupidest things I have ever heard. Then there is the "you are disrespecting the brave soldiers who sacrificed their lives for my freedom" thrown in there too. Excuse me but where is my freedom to not have any religion or patriotic feelings? I am not disrespecting any soldiers even though I have disagreed with the wars that they died in. The soldiers did not start the wars. They are victims of wars. The war to end all wars won't happen until the world is entirely blown to bits. War is inevitable and patriotic feelings contribute to the desire for war. Live and let live. Diversity is a good thing, celebrate it.

Memories of my travels

My last post brought me some hate mail. The fact that I consider myself a citizen of the world rather than a patriotic American brought out the hate in some people. No wonder there are so many wars with patriots like them around.

But I was asked a good question the other day, "What favorite memories do you have from all your travels?" I have lots of memories I have to admit. I can sit for days and rehash my travels. It has been a long time since I first started to travel in the late sixties until now so my memories have slipped somewhat. There are still a few moments that stand out in my memories and here are a few of them in brief descriptions and in no particular order.

The first day I landed in Scotland and I could not understand two young boys speaking to me in English with thick accents was probably the first memory seared into my brain. I was totally taken aback by the sounds of their voices and my inability to understand a single word they spoke. I ended up sitting down with them at the airport coffee shop drinking coffee and hot chocolate while they taught me to understand their English. That day I learned a lot about communicating with people without words that served me many more times around the world.

The next moment was Christmas eve in London when I came across a group of homeless men singing carols along to one of them playing the piano in a cafe. I was struck especially by the piano player, a large shaggy man wearing filthy clothes who played the piano entirely by ear never having had a music lesson in his entire life. He was so happy playing away with the rest of the men. His infectious enthusiastic personality was absorbed by the dirty looking street bums from young men to very old toothless ones singing their hearts out. I stopped and stared as I was walking by and was pulled into their group for the entire night of singing. The shop owner gave us all free coffee and some snacks as he and the staff all joined in with the singing. It was my favorite xmas ever.

On the island of Ibiza after taking the ferry there and spending the afternoon drinking wine and eating seafood with a group of locals and a couple tourists I walked up a twisting path to the top of the village and looked back at the village built on the hillside with the bright blue sea, anchored fishing boats, white rocky beach and bright blue cloudless sky contrasting the whitewashed buildings and I was in love with the day. I frequently think of that moment when I need to get away in my brain.

Morocco was the next time I experienced a similar moment. I stepped off the ferry and was rushed by all the little boys hustling to make a living. They spoke all the languages needed to get whatever edge would work for them to make a little money to keep them alive for another day or whatever. I tried to imagine my own younger brothers the same ages as these streetwise urchins doing the same thing and it was a moment of awesome awareness of the reality of living in different places that struck me. The easy life back home where people complain about the smallest things versus these kids enjoying their life and death struggle to survive. I saw this in other places as well but I always thought back to my first thoughts on the disparity of life around the world that began at that ferry landing.

The next time I experienced another moment was on my way to Timbuktu in Mali. I was camping alone in my tent along a sandy riverbank in after leaving Senegal the day before. The sun had just come up in the desert. I was sitting on the ground in front of my tent eating some oatmeal and drinking tea when a naked young black girl about twelve years old came running over the top of the sand dune near my tent. She was laughing loudly and smiling with a huge grin as some naked younger kids chased her around. When she saw me she stopped suddenly and stared at me frozen in time and space for a moment. The kids chasing her bumped up behind her and they all stood silently staring at me as I was at them. I tried to match her smile still frozen on her face as I looked up from my breakfast and then she continued running back in the direction she had come from with the other kids trailing behind her looking over their shoulders in my direction as they ran off. I stood up and looked over the rise to watch them going and I saw their mothers standing naked in or near the river washing clothes. The older girl told them about me and they stopped and looked off in my direction. Then the whole group walked over and stared at me as I took my tent down and packed my things to continue my journey. I realized at that moment as the naked girl stood in front of me that yes I was now in the black Africa that I had seen in so many National Geographic magazines. I kind of shuddered at the thought. Lots of things raced through my mind about the future dangers and pleasures ahead for me in Africa. It was only a brief moment but so many thoughts were crammed into that short span of time as the girl and I looked at each other for a few seconds that I find it hard to believe that time did not freeze while all the thoughts tumbled around in my head. This was probably the single moment in all of my memories that I go back to over and over again.

I was walking though the jungles along a narrow trail heading toward East Africa one day when I heard a loud drum like thumping sound. I followed the sounds to a small thatched mud hut in a small clearing of trees. A mother and her daughters were standing in a circle around a heavy wooden base which was a large mortar and pestle. They had the large wooden pestles, that looked like giant baseball bats, in their hands and were taking turns pounding down on whatever it was they were grinding up. They worked as a well oiled machine taking turns so that there was a constant stream of hits pounding into that mortar. The sounds echoed through the jungle. I stood there unseen by them and watched as they worked away. I could not hear them talking but I could see that they were as they chatted and laughed as they never stopped pounding away. I finally walked further along the path until they could see me and they stopped pounding and stared at me. I am not sure if they were afraid of me or not but they stared at me motionless before they again started talking and laughing as they resumed their work. As I got closer I realized that they were singing not talking and I stopped to listen for a minute. I was reminded of railroad workers singing blues songs as they worked. I walked on past the scene and continued my journey but the sight and sounds of them has stuck with me ever since.

I had lived in India for almost a year by the time I got to Calcutta. We had taken a very crowded train up from the south. The words very crowded do not begin to describe just how overcrowded this train was. We arrived at the station in Calcutta in the early morning hours and we were struggling through the mass of humanity packed into the station. The crowd was literally moving us so strongly that it would have been impossible to stop. We were flowing toward the exits to the overcrowded streets caught up in a pedestrian traffic jam so to speak. Then in the station near the exit I notice the people in front of me glancing down at the ground so I looked down as I got to that spot and there was a dead body on the ground. People were just continuing their push behind us and in a second we stepped over the body and were pushed into the street. The image of the thin ragged body on the floor stuck with me. It epitomized how hard and calloused I had become by the year spent in the poverty of India. Later that night as I tried to sleep I was struck by that realization and I broke down in tears for a couple of hours. A few weeks later as I was taking off out of Calcutta in a jet for Burma I again broke down thinking about the dead body and just how hard life had been over the last year in India. I saw starving people, twisted deformed beggars, sick stick like children with bloated bellies and more. Although to survive while I was still in India I had acquired a thick skin, the moment I stepped over that body I started to soften again until on that plane where my tears again returned me to the reality of what I had witnessed in India.

There were lots more moments in my travels but these stand out in my memory for various reasons. I relive these snapshots frequently. My mind has probably reshaped them somewhat over all this time as well. But they are why I love to travel. I can't wait to get back on the road again.

Some feedback response

I have been getting some feedback about some of my posts. One topic that keeps coming up is I am accused of being anti-American and less than patriotic. I agree with that feedback to a large extent. I am not patriotic and I don't want to be patriotic because I do not believe in patriotism as being a good thing. Sorry all you flag wavers but there has been way to much harm done to humankind through patriotism so I do not support it. I don't support any other country either for that matter. I prefer to be a citizen of the world sans label. If that makes me un-American than so be it. I am critical of a lot of American things because I live here and know them well. One thing all my travels have taught me is the difference between culture and human behavior. Lots of quote American patriotic things are simple cultural icons and not intrinsic human truths but many Americans (and other nationalities also) seem to think their way is the only way. I have seen lots of different ways for lots of different things. I try to accept the differences without bias.

I also do not believe the U.S. should be trying to force feed their cultural ideology on the rest of the world. Lots of wars this country has been engaged in were all about money and not about saving the world which is how they are always sold by the American government. I am very opposed to this type of warfare and I am vocal about it. I do not support the my country right or wrong philosophy rah rah wave your red white and blue. Hitler is a good enough example of patriotism gone bad. Most of the wars have been about money and nothing else despite all the patriotic rhetoric used to sell these wars.

Afghanistan is a classic example of a war all about money and nothing else. It is a fruitless waste of soldier's lives that is impossible to win. What would constitute a win there? KFC and Big Macs on every corner? They have a right to live their lives the way they want to lead them without Americans interfering, even if Americans do not like their culture. I know lots of Americans were furious after 911 went down and think the wars since have been justified to stop those mad terrorists but in fact the main target is already dead and all the wars are just creating even more anti-American animosity which just breeds more terrorism in the future not less. There are no talks going on anywhere to try to solve this "dispute" with words. Why is that?

The other thing that keeps coming up is the veracity of my posts. I am constantly accused of making all this up. I do not care if people think that way. I have been writing for myself not to impress anybody. If you don't believe it then go away. I do not care if anybody at all reads this. What is truth anyway but one person's view from their point of view. Any number of people can watch something happen and each will see their own truth. Cada cabesa esta un mundo or in English, each person's head is a world. This is my head and my world.

Then the last thing I hear is that I hurt people or make them look bad in my posts which makes me mean. My response to that is again the same as before I am writing this for me not for them. My intentions are not to hurt anybody but things have happened that I talk about that are not always flattering to those involved. My extended family all seem to be angry at me for things I have said about my father or my exwives or whatever. Such is life. I will continue to say whatever I want to in my writing. I say lots of things that make me look bad also. I am open about my "vices" and I talk about my own mistakes as much as I talk about others. If I did not then the veracity would be diminished. Bad things happen in the world and we all make mistakes. This writing reflects me and if somebody read it all they would know much more about who I am and how I got to be who I am today.

So keep reading or not, that is your choice. My choice is to do just like I am doing and write whatever I feel like. Enjoy life while you still can. PURAVIDA

Such is life

So about thirty seconds after I finished my last post about how good I felt and how I was feeling better there was a loud knock on my door and I was greeted by the police to be evicted from my house. The landlord was behind on payments and did not inform me of the problems. So I now have a thirty day notice and I will lose my last month's rent and the security deposit. Isn't life just grand...

A Bit of Respite

Well for over a week now my pain level has been very low. I have actually regained a bit of a life. Over the last week I have gone out and been social, even so far as to have a couple of dates finally. I can laugh and play. My mind is much sharper again and my wit has returned to some extent. Some of my friends asked me what came over me to make me so much more fun all of a sudden. Being social, laughing and enjoying people are all things that I am incapable of doing when my pain is high and controlling my entire mind/body experience. Being social, even basic small stuff is next to impossible with high pain. Very few people seem to understand this. I try to go through the motions of being social even when my pain is high but I come out stiff and cold as well as dull and boring. I try to be social all the time even when I have high pain. I pretend that the pain is not there and don't talk about it or anything but I can not hide the fact that my brain is elsewhere making me appear to be cold and aloof.

It has been almost two years since my last respite like this. For two very long years I have been focused on nothing but surviving my pain warped life on an hour to hour and sometimes minute to minute scale. I still have limited mobility due to nerve damage and loss of motor control in my leg but the pain is way more controlling than the loss of mobility. I could have a good life even out of a wheelchair but the acute pain sucks life right out of me. Later today I am going river tubing with some friends. I would not be able to do that with high pain. The high heat here in Bakersfield has a lot to do with my feeling better all of a sudden. It has been over a hundred degrees everyday for going on two weeks now. When it is this hot my pain melts away.

But one day the pain will return...probably very suddenly too. When it returns is when I am most at risk of losing this battle. All I can hope for is for this respite to last long enough to rebuild some small reservoir of hope that will keep me going until the next respite. Meanwhile I am going to go for the gusto and live life like it should be led, enjoying myself. I hope you are enjoying life too. PURAVIDA

Some like it hot

So for more than a year I have had constant relentless high pain and almost eighteen years of pain problems. I left the San Francisco Bay Area to go to Bakersfield Ca to warm up to try to get a handle on my pain which tends to go up in cold weather and down in hot weather. It worked. The temperature here in Bakersfield has been about 104 degrees lately. My pain has gone down by the day until now where I am almost pain free. The first respite in over a year. I love it. There is no complaining on my part of how hot it is. Everyday I hear people complaining about the heat and all I can do is smile at them as I drip in sweat. I would much rather be hot and sweating than be in pain. Pain is very destructive to the human brain. Heat and sweat are just irritating not destructive.

I am very thankful for the respite but I dread the return of the pain. My mood these days is very high but when the pain returns I will crash big time. I dread that day. No amount of drugs will protect me from the return of the pain and the resulting crash. All I can do is wait and enjoy my days right now. When the pain returns I will lose it big time. There is nothing I can do to protect myself from the crash. It is like a light switch, when the pain returns my mood plummets. Period. No question about it. I may or may not survive the crash. I wish I could control the response but it is so strong that there is nothing I can do to prevent the inevitable crash. Does that mean I am weak? Am I helpless? Well I am not helpless or weak but the truth is that the pain is more in control of me than I am and I am aware of that fact. Knowledge is power in most cases but here in this situation the wave of response to the pain returning is actually out of my control. I am trying to avert disaster by acknowledging the situation but through many years of experience I now know that I am just a puppet on a string. I know other people have experienced this type of fault but not many people will actually admit the helplessness of the situation. I am not a fatalist in any manner. I seriously try to protect myself with positive thinking and all sorts of other methods but it is all a fallacy. I will lose the battle not because I am weak but because the response to pain has rewired my brain and that is merely the way it is. You people out there that are judging me as you read this have never experienced the devastation of chronic pain. Twenty years of the brain rewiring itself is just flat out impossible to fight. Maybe if I could get a long enough respite I might be able to build up some defenses but I am not counting on that. What happens happens and that is just the way it goes sometimes. Such is life. Enjoy it while you are still able to.