I AM ME

I am catching myself in another daydream about losing my mind as I drive home on the freeway. It’s messed up, to have fantasies-almost wishing- for such a terrible illness, isn’t it? And yet… I do more often than most would admit. What does it all mean? As if I might try to “figure it all out” one day. Oh wait, its ironically coming back to me. Something to do with… yes that’s it, normalcy. But right now we are both asking ourselves, “What does that even mean?”

I am history. That’s what it means. For a long time now, I have been the center of my own universe. It blows my mind that as late as the eighteenth century a man in England was tried and put to death for arguing that we were not the center of the universe. I guess that sometimes old beliefs are hard to kill. But I didn’t always believe everything revolved around me. And neither did many of the civilizations that predated their ignorantly closed minded predecessors. It was a younger time for both me, and history.

I am now. And just as scientists rediscovered that the earth revolves around something larger, I begin to draw similar conclusions. So now what? I am still so young, and yet I am already caught up with the present. Do I have more living to do before I realize that’s not entirely true?

I am not alone in these realizations I am sure. This is precisely the point. “It’s all too normal,” is what my Grandma would probably say. “You will “grow out” of all this one of these days.” Perhaps that’s true. Will the future simply “grow out” of the present as well?

I am not sure. Maybe the only ones capable of grasping that answer are those we label insane. Is that the draw to these delusions? Or is it fear of normalcy? In the end I can only be sure of this:

I am me. And that’s all I can be, all I will ever be, all I want to be. So don’t tell me not to be… me.

This is my friend Andrea

I think I really offended her the first time we met. I can never remember what I said to her, but she’s always jogging my memory. She laughs with lingering amazement and reminds me, “All us first years were sitting in a van about to head to Cherry Creek and you and the other senior leaders were all headed to Abbo's. Your stuff was in our van and you walked over, threw open the door and looking at us with an intense stare, said "Any of you touch my stuff and I will kill you." I remember thinking, "who the hell is this guy?"

I swear, I don’t know what goes through my head when I first meet people. Things just come out without even thinking about it. But Andrea is a good sport, and I quickly realized that I would be a fool to let her pass along her way with out becoming her friend first. Andrea is so funny and it is so easy to feed off of her energy. She’s always talking with a different accent and down for an epic adventure. She circumnavigated Santa Cruz Island with me on my boat for a week. She taught me a lot about a lot of things on that trip. Right now she is riding bicycles around New Zealand with her husband Brian. It’s the first leg in their “around the world honey moon.”

When we first met, we were in Colorado for a week or so training for our summer trips to come. There are always so many amazing people in Colorado and we were all having a blast staying at my co-leader Nicole’s house in boulder. This house was anything but ordinary; nobody knew who lived there and who was just passing through. The door was always open and every time you walked in, there would be five new people nobody had ever seen before watching sex in the city on the tube. This was always on because there was no cable and the sex in the city series were the only DVDs in the house.

Six of us ventured out one night and we began to paint the town red. We were all separated amidst the chaos and shenanigans that ensued and that was pretty standard. I will never forget stumbling back through neighborhood after neighborhood at five in the morning with Andrea trying to find our temporary home. A Volkswagen van was stopped at a stop sign and we asked for a lift to the other side of town. It was a young couple and they obliged. We hopped in and sat in the back next to their three year old daughter. What they were doing driving around at five in the morning picking up hitchhikers with their daughter in the back would remain a mystery to us. The only thing we knew was that as weird as it was, it would save us about a forty-five minute walk. They dropped us off a block away. We thanked them again, and walked towards the dawn. As we approached the house, we saw four figures walking in the middle of the street towards us, dressed in bed sheets transformed in to togas! Our band was reunited again! We didn’t even ask how they ended up in togas, for anything can happen in Colorado.

Wednesday, what a day

I slid into the Jacuzzi alone as I did so many times when I lived at my father’s house in high school. The overwhelming heat brought back so many memories. Whitey tighties, bud light, and my old roommate Ernie. I also thought of the first time I stood on my feet after my accident. It was in a Jacuzzi with my grandfather, and it was so much harder than I had anticipated. I always thought I would forget that anything ever happened to my feet, as I seem to have forgotten so many other significant moments of my life. But of all of the things that I could think of on a daily basis, go figure it has to be my feet. Life is like that day with my grandfather sometimes; harder than I had anticipated.

The weightlessness of the water also made me think of Wednesday. Wednesday was pretty significant, and I have a feeling I won’t forget it for a long time. School was cancelled due to the fires, so I went to the beach. As I exited the freeway I pulled over to the side of the road. I stared in amazement. The world in front of me was engulfed in flame. After a minute or so, I continued on, parking where I usually park, and paddling out where I usually paddle out. The sky was raining a dry ash, and I felt like I was fleeing a war zone. The sky was dark; it had an air of seriousness to it. The water was iridescent; a thousand different shades of inviting blues and greens all at once. As I caught my first wave of the day I awoke to the dream that had rolled into reality. All I could see was red. The hillside was directly in front of me and it was so alive with fire that I almost couldn’t handle it. Picture the most amazing piece of art you have ever seen, along with all of the emotions that it stirred up in you. I saw that feeling in every direction; up, down, ahead of me, behind me, all around. It was an epic ride, to say the least.

After about an hour of total bewilderment and spectacular waves, it only got better. A pod of dolphins graced us with their presence. There were about fifty and they seemed to be in a jovial mood. I paddled towards them with innocence and curiosity. They responded with curiosity of their own, surrounding me for about five minutes. They would swim at me and dive at the last second, stopping below me to look at the bottom of my board. I could have reached out and touched them, if my own fear guised in the name of “respect for nature” hadn’t stopped me. The young were also intrigued, though their mothers kept them from getting too close. I paddled into a wave. They were right there with me, playing in the swell.

The colors of this majestic canvas dimmed to darkness and I spent my evening where I usually spend my Wednesday evenings; in LA on a bicycle. It was a good night filled with laughter and friendship. I am very excited to recognize individuals who also recognize me throughout my ride. Developing these relationships to ultimately gain understanding and appreciation is so important to me. This Wednesday was a good step in that direction.

The night ended with heartbreak while beautiful memories filled my head when I should have been sleeping. I am so grateful for so many experiences of my life, and the last eight months are no exception. I held on one last time to what I knew would soon be gone. It reminded me that, like that day in the Jacuzzi with my grand father, things can sometimes be so much harder than anticipated.

Going mechanico

It is so refreshing when you realize that you are able to do something that you always thought you couldn’t. I have recently broadened my mechanical skills and am pretty proud of the results. I just finished a complete restoration on one of my vespas, and have successfully installed two new cylinder kits on the zumas. These sorts of projects never go as smoothly as anticipated, and the most consistent thing you are working on is your patience. Is the end result worth it? I would have to say yes. Even if you break things, you come away with a little bit more knowledge for the next project that is called life. Some might say it’s just a scooter, but I think they missed the point.

My friend Jon

Jon Earle is one of the most natural leaders I have ever had the honor to know. For a man of few words, he knows how to make them count. More importantly, he does what he says, rather than says what he’s done. Jon leads by example and has amazing follow thru. When you look in his eyes, you know he’s the real deal, and if he says he’s going to do something, you know it will get done.

I met Jon in February of ’07 in British Columbia. I almost didn’t know he was there, as he blended into the crowd, trying to make some sense of our situation. We were there with 27 other amazing people from all over the world, trying to become members of a team that would travel the globe in hopes of making a positive impact. At first glance, I didn’t pay him much attention; he had a straight up mullet and a funny accent that told me he was from New Zealand. But as the days went by, I quickly realized that he understood the big picture and, more importantly, was helping to shape the outcome of the week, without even trying. His perspective was always inspiring, and his passion for putting what was best for the group first, moved me. I can not put into words the amount of respect I have for Jon. All I can say is thank you for being such an admirable role model.

Anniversaries are fun

Two years ago tonight changed my life. Some of the changes were good. Some were, well, you know. I woke up this morning with a mope, and I can’t seem to shake it. There’s no real reason for it, its just there, and this is relatively new for me (give or take two years…to the day). This mope is both the most important thing that came from this…anniversary, as well as the toughest side effect. It and it alone brought me to truly understand what empathy is. It’s a hard thing to admit that it took me so long, but it’s true. For this, I will always be grateful. It also curses me from time to time, with days like today. I guess these feelings that I can’t control and can no longer hide from are a small price to pay for such an important insight towards others… but that’s easier said than lived, we all know that. This picture was taken with a camera phone seconds before I fell two years ago tonight. Really brings back some memories for me.

Thank You

He took two or three minutes to formulate the words. It was important to him. I could see that, so I waited. He finally got it out, “thank you.” He meant it and I thought about it the rest of the night. He rambled on and on and I wished I could understand. I wished I could do more than the quick fix of a warm burrito. It was a hard night. Somebody asked why I did it. They figured it must be quite rewarding. On the contrary, it’s often draining. One can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed being out there. “I do it, because I think it’s important” was all I could reply, then rode into the night.

What a long strange trip its been

The trip had ended, but it didn’t seem over. All in all, it was pretty rough. I struggled with a language barrier that I had never experienced before. Half the group spoke French, and …well, I don’t. I don’t know what I would have done if it wasn’t for my co-leader Lindsay. She pulled me through with out even knowing it. This is us with a freaking futon on our roof rack. We slept up there every night of the trip, rain or snow (it didn’t snow). We had some great laughs, some heartfelt cries, and saw some awesome sights over the last month, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. I look forward to the long drive from San Francisco to Denver and then back to LA this week. More importantly, toward the opportunity to see some amazing people along the way. I have a feeling the long lonely drive will bring the necessary closure to the summer, and I will arrive back in California refreshed and ready for the next adventure which is most commonly referred to as life.

It’s so simple that sometimes it seems impossible

I go outside because it calms me. I notice more, and at the same time, I notice less. If that sounds funny, is it because it’s so simple? Sometimes I don’t know if it’s a gift or a problem to oversimplify things. All I know is that when I am surrounded by nature, it’s not about me simplifying things at all. It’s simply about noticing them. Sometimes the smallest things, the ones that some don’t notice at all, are what amaze me the most. The light that makes it to the forest floor, the way the wind blows the leaves off a tree, or the reflection in a puddle.

Sometimes I notice other things, like the bugs that are flying around me, the weight of my backpack pulling me in to the ground, or the pain of each step that I take. All these things are present, and in the end it is my choice alone to decide what to notice. It’s when I choose to notice the positive things that I am really appreciating life and how lucky I am.

We came to this lake and it started to rain, hard. There was a lot to notice, but all I saw was water bouncing off of water. It was so beautiful, and everything else left my mind for a short time. Nature is able to help do this for me from time to time and that is why I love it, but I know it’s not for everyone. That is ok because that is not what is important. What is important is finding what helps you to empty your mind of all the distractions that are keeping you from noticing whatever it is that brings you happiness.

Looking at the future

I am staring at the future while it stares over a two thousand foot cliff, and all it can do is ask when we are going to go shopping. It is so brilliant now, although I can’t quite grasp it in the moment. They say you can learn allot from the youth. This is true and I believe it. But they don’t say what you learn; that’s the tricky part. Do you learn about life with a cynics view, or -by sometimes turning a blind eye- hope for the future? If you learn about yourself from youth, are you learning about your flaws, who you think you are, or who you want to be? You would think that these choices are yours to make, but they are not. They are the choices of the youth you surround yourself with, and they don’t even know it. They don’t even realize that they are the future yet, and that’s ok. They will understand one day, we all will.

Shaking in my...

I was scared to climb. Scared of the pain it would bring, scared of the feeling I get around a rope. Scared of being scared. The first ten feet were fine. The next twenty were even easier. And eighty feet above the ground never felt so good. My feet didn’t hurt as bad as I had anticipated, and I truly felt free. It was fun, and I want to climb more. Thank you for second chances… and taking them.

Bold West

We picked up the group in Vegas. It was hot. Its going to be an interesting summer.

Eleven houndred miles is too far inside a car

The drive was long, and I was alone, which made it even longer. Driving alone is a special time that, just like drinking, should not be done when you are in the wrong frame of mind. In fact I was in the perfect frame of mind for this drive; I had my music, and my recent adventures in Colorado to reflect on… not to mention the beautiful scenery of interstate 70. I made the best of 1036 miles of highway, arriving at 2:00 am, the evening stars becoming a blur. I was home, whatever that meant, even if it was only for a day.

To be or not tubing

We were making a mockery of them and their contest without even trying. They, with their thousand dollar carbon fiber kayaks. Us, with our four-ninety-nine inflatable pool toys; highly personalized with names on them like, “the purple people eater” and “the sea monkey.” They moved threw the water as if it was their business. We floundered and flailed, throwing caution to the wind. They scowled while we smiled. If there was a contest for who had the most fun… well there would have been no contest at all.

Reaching out can get blurry sometimes

Driving into the hills and I couldn’t feel it yet. But I knew it was coming. The place had become a legend in my own mind, and I really didn’t know anything about it. People always said how amazing Red Rocks Amphitheater was, and it was starting to hit me as we walked up the smooth red steps in the cool, cool night. Michael Franti was about to come on and at fifty-one dollars, it was the most expensive show I had ever gone to. But that meant nothing to me now, as I looked around and straight into the souls of thousands upon thousands of people. It was easy, the crowd inviting itself to become better aquatinted as a variety of items were passed amongst each other. Hungrily I ate up everything that came my way, often with no regard- or idea- to what it was. Every time I looked over to my friend Greg, he had a new snack and was eager to share, from red vines to hot dogs, to chewy cookies that somebody somewhere made. It was exciting, and I was surrounded by so many amazing people. The music echoed off the natural landscape and was truly alive. Fireworks lit up the Denver skyline as a full moon rose and the beat dug deep into our heads. The message was simple and timeless, relevant and natural. It felt good to be there, as there was a mood of hope.

There were other moods too. Some were there to escape, some to explore, some just to dance. But as the night went on, the crowd grew together as the mood took on a natural progression through all emotions.

Driving away we were all drained. My head was out the window letting the warm breeze relax me. I noticed a simple memorial, to Vietnam- the war- those that are gone. Hanging on the fence like a six year old, waiting for his friends to come out to play, was a tired old man. A veteran no doubt. You could see it in his eyes, the way he stared at the bronze M-16 standing upright out of the ground with a helmet balanced on top of the barrel. He was so alone. I wanted to reach out and hug him. Tell him that I had no idea what he had been through, but that I wanted to try to understand. But the car moved on and the moment passed. No one else saw him, and then he was gone. As I fell asleep I thought of him, and of my long drive out west.

This home is a castle

We sat around for a while and then we sat some more. The scene was boring, with the TV muffled in the background. The three of us were turning into vegetables before each others eyes up in the attic, but we were far from bored. This castle was our home for the week, a haven for sleep and preparation for the adventures soon to come. Jenny had to work during the day, while Jordan and I quickly developed a sibling bond based around our blogs. The time reminds me how lucky we are to have such a precious thing as perspective.

life is just a ride

Being ridiculed for my lifestyle choices is something I have grown accustomed to. Which is why the last week in June has been so refreshing for me year after year. A gathering of like minded souls reminds me that I am not alone. In fact, I am not that far out on the spectrum at all. As we fill each other in on our adventures over the past year, I hear stories from friends with masters’ degrees in science taking a year off to be a lift operator at a ski resort, or working in Antarctica for six months, and then taking some down time in India and Nepal. Being around so many inspirational leaders that are so comfortable with the way they live (i.e. wandering) lets me catapult into my true self, embracing my dreams and appreciating that life does not have to be how the mainstream dictates.

doesn't change a thing

The heat stung my nostrils, so I breathed in thru my mouth. That tickled my lungs; it was time to get out. I thanked the wrinkled old man for his story and stepped out of the little wooden room, rinsed off, and jumped into the pool. I was late for the training, but the old man in the sauna intrigued me, and I had a feeling I didn’t miss much. I dove under the water and retrieved a rubber boy. After administering CPR to the disturbingly lifeless, life size doll, I was told I was now a lifeguard…again. Boggles the mind.

delayed arrival

Denver welcomed me with a cold Tecate and good friends. The drive from Moab was hot and lonely. I got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. Part of the jack was missing. Twenty minutes later, a car pulled up. It wasn't AAA. Instead, my long time friend Becki Kirby, her son Brayden, and Ethan, aka 'the six nippled man' happened to be driving back to Vail and gave me a hand. After words... we enjoyed cheeseburgers and milkshakes. What a small world indeed.

Oh the places you'll go

Water is everything that has ever mattered. Especially when you’re on the river. We put in at the west water ranger station, and surrendered ourselves to the current for a couple of days. It was beautiful and inspiring. It reminded me of sailing; one minute can be so peaceful and relaxing, while the next can transform into a life threatening rollercoaster where every decision is a critical one. A boat flipped and lost its oars. Everyone was alright, but it took about an hour of separation and confusion to figure it all out. It’s weird when you are expecting to see a raft come around the bend, but instead all you see is an empty milk jug.

Desert Solitaire

This is the reason I drive instead of fly places. Nothing else needs to be said.

This journey has begun

I went wake-boarding this morning before I drove the roads of four states. The water was cold; the kind of cold that when you put your head under, you cant help but smile and you don't know why. Its a special feeling, to be so humbled and have so much fun at the same time, that it is saved for those rare occasions when you are ready to fathom such a thing. I drove away from the mountain both sore, and refreshed.
I lied down in the grass at the park across the street from my friends' Anna and Nate's' house when I had finished my long, hellacious drive thru the desert. I felt the breeze that I heard in the leaves of the old oak that stood over me. It was so peaceful as I overheard one of my favorite Modest Mouse songs being sung by some kid with a guitar. Bankrupt on Selling is what it is called. I looked up at twilight, and watched it fade into night.

Last night there were skinheads on my lawn

Last night there were skinheads on my lawn. No wait, I was on a skinhead’s lawn last night. It was the worst possible time for the ipod to select Camper Van Beethoven’s “take the skinheads bowling” on shuffle, which is exactly what happened. The timing was-appropriate.

Wait; let me back up a little. I didn’t know the skinhead, Todd, until after the music was silenced from the glove box of my 1962 vespa and the awkward stare went away.

Actually; I should back up to the start. It’s important to understand that I don’t usually fraternize with skinheads. Last night was an exception. It was the first night of Orange Crush 13, an annual scooter rally for vespas and lambrettas. There was a mood in the air that matched the mood inside me, so I decided to ride. The freeway was my route of choice and nothing forces you to appreciate everything you should in life like ten inch tires at 70 mph. It’s the sort of appreciation that leaves your entire body sore, and I recommend it in small doses.

There are traditionally two groups of people that are associated with vintage scooters; Mods and Skinheads. I don’t fit in to either of these groups, and it was obvious when I pulled up to the scene. But something was different than usual. As scooters have gotten older and harder to come by, it has driven out the younger, hooliganesk crowd, and left behind the “has-been’s” and the “hardcores” like Todd the skinhead. Finding conversation would be hard here, but I didn’t come to talk. I came to ride. To enjoy the unspoken comradery that naturally develops on the open road. It didn’t matter who these people were, it was about that raw feeling you revert to when you run with the pack.

The ride started in Costa Mesa , and we made are way to the Balboa Ferry. There were about forty of us and we barely fit on the boat. The captain looked at us in wonder, and announced that it would be a hundred dollars for all of us. Someone revved their engine, and negotiations began. His next offer was fifty dollars. More engines revved. An unspoken arrangement had been made. We rode off the ferry without having to exchange a dime. This was our night.

We raced around the Back Bay down roads I didn’t recognize. We didn’t stop till we got to Santa Ana , and parked on a skinhead’s lawn.

Todd introduced himself a few minutes after I turned off the music, and offered me a cold can of Coors light. I took it and drank as he lit a fire in his backyard. Surreal to say the least. Some awkward time passed. I thanked him for his hospitality and looked forward to the long, cold ride home alone.

my hero cried

My Aunt Lanie is the strongest person I know. I have only seen her cry twice and tonight was one of them. She commands so much presence that you can’t help but cry with her. She had just put her dog Fritzee to sleep, and I know it broke her precious heart. This was the reason I began to cry.

It’s kind of confusing when you see someone so strong cry. It reminds you that they are still human just like everyone else. From time to time I’ve had my doubts about Aunt Lanie being mortal. She is a solid 88 years and doesn’t miss a beat. She shows no weakness.

As I walked up to the door, I heard her playing the piano and just listened for a few minutes before knocking. She told me the news with a longer hug in the doorway than usual, then it was back to business as usual as she pulled out two decks of cards and we began to play double solitaire as we have so many times before. Her deck must be thirty years old, with numbers and suits faded, and an old picture of half dome on the back. My deck is newer, and lacks in character as far as a deck of cards is concerned when I lay them down next to hers.

There is so much to learn from a woman like this. Fritzee meant more to her than anything else in the whole world, and I know she misses him so much. But she accepts it, knowing that she can’t change anything or anyone but herself. “The show must go on” she chuckles as she wipes away a tear, and beats me again at cards.

Humbled..yet again

It sounds like my head is inside a jet engine while I wait for what seems to be inevitable. Sure enough it hits me in the gut, forcing what little air I was storing in my mouth to bleed out, one bubble at a time. I really could have used that air, considering I have no idea how long I will be down here. My body relaxes, and I let the ocean lead me in the violently rhythmic dance of drowning. It would be pointless to fight it, as I don’t know which way is up. I just have to wait, all the while remembering that this isn’t really how I go.

Right as rain, I eventually reach the surface and it has never been so difficult to do such a simple thing. I open my mouth and tell myself, “gasp dam it, quick.” As oxygen reenters my lungs I have never felt so alive. I embrace my board. I know I am about to hear the sound of the jet engine again.

I love to surf because I am not very good at it. I don’t have much style and there is so much room for personal progression. It is constantly humbling me and it reminds me that- just like life- I have so much to learn. These experiences combined with the indescribable feeling you get when you catch that one perfect wave are what keep me paddling out to sea.

growing ...pains ...me

This hat used to fit me. It was a good time. A time of confidence, and a time of seemingly all- knowing capabilities. How do you go from knowing soo much, to so little? This hat is too small now. Or is my head too big? I don’t want to fix what I don’t understand. I just want to be … a cowboy. Do I? What do you want?

Lifes a...beach

Its hot, down here. I think that's why people don't wear as much clothing; I hope so. If you're walking, there's a new beat every thirty seconds or so. I like that allot because its all live. Everyone seems alive down here. Every-ones moving, swaying, like they're under water. The music is the current and we are all anemone's (dot) (dot) (dot)

Or maybe I still have my sea legs from the boat-sorry, its a ship...

Or maybe they are just drunk. After all, I am in Fort Lauder-dale during spring break.

I am officially in a constant state of amazement,

I am dan

Almost out of snow

It snowed a couple of weeks ago. I decided to treat myself. I came into work early and headed up in a snow cat to pack the new snow on the jumps and dig out the rails. I finished early and was all alone with the mountain. I quickly came to the conclusion that many in my situation might come to realize. And then I did it. I …commandeered/ borrowed the mountain managers personal snowmobile and headed to the top of the mountain, snowboard attached.

I hid the snowmobile behind some bushes, strapped in, and then it happened. For about five minutes, I had transcended into heaven. The entire mountain was mine for the taking, a foot of fresh snow from top to bottom, without a single track- let alone another person- to be seen. By the time I got to the bottom they had started warming up the lifts. Before the mountain had even opened, I got four of the best runs of my life, without even seeing another person.

It was a good day for me, whats one of yours?

So...Canada eh?

As I crossed back into California the clouds lifted, and I was able to unroll my window for the first time in a few weeks. All in all it was 4200 miles and change thru Utah , Colorado , Idaho , Oregon , Washington , and good old British Colombia. A lot happened in that time and I feel like a different person than when I left. The trip was justified because I was attending a selection camp for an expedition that will eventually go from the South Pole to the North Pole. There were 30 of us in all, and together we chose an international team of 7 for the journey. Although I was not chosen, the trip and its challenges- both emotionally and physically- were well worth it. I came away with a new understanding of what I am capable of as well as learning the importance of listening to my body. It’s all about balance and the more I learn, the more I realize how much room there is for growth. I saw some great people along the way and was reminded how lucky I am to know so many amazing people.