Day 1 - May 16, 2010 - Walk with me a while.

Walk with me



“Few people know how to take a walk. The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good speech, good silence, and nothing too much.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

These shoes aren’t particularly old. They’re not expensive and flashy either. I purchased them on sale at Payless for about $11. I’m sure that within a few months they’ll look a lot more worn out than they currently do. I’m pretty rough on shoes, and all my clothes for that matter. I expect these shoes to accompany my feet through city streets, around my college campus, along sandy beaches, into subway trains, onto playgrounds, through forests, over fields, and off the beaten path. When I see a pair of shoes, I wonder where they’ve been. Where did they have to go to get to the place they are today? Who wore them? What was the journey of the wearer?

Journeys may be difficult and tiresome, but they are always rewarding. In fact, the journey itself is often worth more than the end result. Perhaps good silence is worth its weight in gold in a world filled with unending noise. Maybe plain clothes and old shoes will take you farther in life than Gucci and Prada. Maybe a genuine spirit lives more deeply than one surrounded by extravagance and pretense.

Well, let’s get to walking!

Humming a Tune.

I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument, while the song I came to sing remains unsung. ~Tagore

365 Days to Sing.

Today, I became a college senior and in 365 days, I will graduate.

I’ve decided to start a 365 Day project because I want to do more than string and unstring my instrument over the next year. I want to live life singing boldly.

Music is for everyone, and it is a part of the human experience. We do not ask our friends, “Do you like music?” We know the answer. Rather, we ask, “What kind of music do you enjoy?”

All of us make music throughout our lives. When we’re young, we drum on pots and pans while playing on the kitchen floor. As we age, we sing in the shower and hum popular tunes we’ve heard on the radio while we work. Some people learn to play instruments or join choirs, while others simply sing in the car while driving to the super market.

Whether you consider yourself a skilled performance artist or an amateur karaoke star, you can claim the title of musician. So what if you can’t carry a tune? You’re making music every day. Life is a tune. You’re making it up as you go. We only fail to create beautiful songs when we stop trying or when we forget to try.

For the next year, I want to track the melody I’m creating through pictures and words. I will try to post as consistently as possible. I will not pose, edit, or craft images with photo shop. I will record reality. I will capture what i see in front of me and write what I feel.

That’s about it. Back to singing. Back to living.

Moments of Revelation

(Written aboard the MV explorer in February. Shared now because it gains new relevance for me as the new year approaches)

Surely, years have passed by now. I must be 24, 25, 26… or older still. Perhaps my hair is slowly turning into a river of silver; my face creased with lines of emotion and wisdom. Certainly I have been adrift for decades, memories of far off places floating wearily through my subconscious.

Bright colored lanterns, bold smelling spices, and flowing symphonies of sound are all flitting around before my conciousness simultaneously. My senses must be failing me, indeed; sights twist into smells as touch turns into taste. The laughter of children morphs into splayed sunlight trickling down from the heavens onto mountainous peaks; I can feel it spilling warmly down my arms, dripping from my fingertips. It hits the ground like rainwater, reminiscent of a bubbling stream. Moving like energy across my skin, it creeps into my thoughts. Light flows into darkness; stars bursting forth brilliantly as the sun. Sands fly through the air like snowflakes; sands of time, colder than ice.

Senility must be overtaking my aging mind; how can these sensations exist? Perhaps I am drifting through a dream, but I have yet to decide whether it is pleasant or frightening. An illusion that’s simply fascinating, like a secret long withheld from the hearer. It must be, for how can it be real? How can a world of paradox hold any shape at all?

Mind flows into mind as heart flows into heart. We are not so different: a band of terrestrial beings struggling for life and vitality; for understanding. We form a body that feels and breaths. Each entity is no stronger than any other. We are beautifully and wonderfully crafted creatures.

Beauty gives way to decay. Youth flees from age. Intelligence stands dumbfounded in the face of eternity. My thoughts race towards some unforeseen revelation. Months melt into years as the world spins beneath my feet. Perhaps I am not so old; perhaps the child within me has finally come of age. Weariness is setting in as years of youth fade into the distance.

Life can never be the same as the seconds inch slowly by. Time crawls as minutes fracture into moments. Moments freeze. Truth reveals itself. Then time liquefies once more.

Years have not passed; just moments of revelation.