Facing West

The Call of the West

Nineteenth century American author and newspaper editor Horace Greeley is attributed with the famous quotation of "Go West, young man". A line that is as a part of our lexicon today as is "From sea to shining sea" and "Gentleman start your engines". 

Actually the entire quote reads as:

                       Washington is not a place to live in. The rents are high, the food is bad, 

                       the dust is disgusting and the morals are deplorable. Go West, young 

                       man, go West and grow up with the country.

The Southwestern culture of the US has always appealed to me with its big wide skies and stark and rocky deserts. Areas teeming with life; cactus, sage brush, ocotillo and prickly pear, tan rocky mountain mesas and 40 mile vistas. I can't seem to get too far away. In my mind anyway that is. 

This past September I decided that I was ready for a journey to the places where my dreams reside. Because of certain circumstances, the time was right and I resolved that since I wasn't getting any younger, I got in my vehicle and pointed it West. This was not to be one such as where the only focus is the destination but, instead, the space between where I am here and where I wanted to be there. I planned to drive to Arizona from Georgia and enjoy and savor every mile. States covered going out were Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. The return was New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Georgia. 10 states all told. The road led the progress but the exits and sights called out to me. Time was my own and there were no clocks to beat. I'm not intending to lay out the whole itinerary here but, lets just say that it was a relaxed and refreshing trip that anyone should take, figuratively, at least once in their lifetime. Truth be told, the destination was in my soul all along and this travel was but an external illustration; a manifestation, of what I can see in my mind at any time I drift off and dream a little. 

When ever I see a sunset here I visualize it as illuminating the land far out over the western horizon. Golden skies with orange and gray-blue clouds as big as countries in the fading blue of the stratosphere. 

Entire storm systems can be seen at a distance from high thunderheads to rainy plains below. We don't get views like that here because of the lay of our land. Its that kind of place you go to wherein you feel as if you've really really been somewhere. 

It was enough for me to go and just be present and soak up the vibe and experience what the earth had to offer out there. No agendas or touristy bullshit wastes of time. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. I didn't see any reflections in any snow covered hills and the landslide surely didn't bring me down. The serenity gripped me however and I felt my inner self connect with life and remind me that there is so much more to come. Maybe this world out west here has room for even me. Broken and shot-out as I am. 

One day soon I will (I hope) return to where the land spreads out with nothing to hide before you. I do not possess an ability to translate the security I feel while in that place of complete openness and where the world seems laid bare all before you. Painted Deserts and Petrified Forests. Indian reservations with river canyons steeped in colored bands of geological times. Drives that elapse hours where there is only me, the gentle trees, the infinite sky and the road leading ahead. Time does not apply...

I'll be back.

- Hal

Boots of Spanish Leather

Spain...España. The country of Mediterranean coasts, Don Quixote and The Alhambra; Night life with dinner or La Cena never before 10PM; Flamenco and a modern-day foodie ground zero paradise of Tapas, Paella and Jamón de Trevelez. Running Bulls and decadent deserts; Cities and low sun-yellowed mountains with sage chaparral; Matador de Toros y corrida de toros. 

A lifetime would not be enough. 

I have been three times in my life to Spain. My memories are nothing short of fantastical and almost cinematic in their expanse of dream like settings of city and countryside. Desert meets low shrubs and terra cotta roofs; olive trees and steak restaurants at old ranches. Ancient cities with jigsaw streets and night-lit gothic cathedrals. Small neon bars with old men having jamón y huevos at midnight and drinking café con crema. Who needs Paris, London or Rome, even, when this is all there in the multi-cultural destination that is Spain?

I have a friend who is traveling to Spain today and he has asked me to drive him to the airport. Me being the friend I am said of course and we're even leaving early enough to grab a bite nearby before his check-in. I'm envious of his travels, if for nothing else than to just soak in the vibe and lifestyle that I found so many years ago while in the country. At a time while already living in the heart of the European continent, I found myself being dispatched to even more disparate and captivating places. I have always, when asked where I would want to return to, said first and foremost the Iberian peninsula. Words fail me to accurately describe the visual and sensory experience that was in my time there. I really envy my friend.  Did I mention that already? 

Crossing 5 time zones and the North Atlantic the flight route will take him over the islands of the Azores, landfall at Portugal and into Spain and finally down to Madrid. Roughly 9 hours total overnight travel time consisting of a light dinner, a movie, some snooze and a wakeup prior to approach into the Adolfo Suárez Madrid–Barajas Airport. All through the night. Amazing to think, by way of comparison, that when the first Spanish explorers of the new world in the 16th century set out 450 years ago to come this way and discover the west the journey took months at sea and survival against the elements. A good half or more of them didn't even make it and gave in to disease or weather. 450 years from now will we even still need to physically travel at all any more ?

The world is certainly a smaller place than once was.

How far do you have to travel these days to feel like you've "been somewhere"? Leaving my hometown I can drive for at least 5 hours in any direction of the compass rose and with the exception of some low mountains or oceans it all remains relatively the same. Main St USA and all your favorite stores on every corner. How far before the change really comes and starts to appear? Where is that elusive line of "there" and no longer "here"? 

I digress.

Spain has long evoked images and thoughts of a distant and foreign land to poets and writers and dreamers alike with its vast cultural landscapes and warm climate escapist lifestyles. I choose to believe that when Bob Dylan wrote his song of unrequited love and the longings of the heart for one who has travelled away from life and presence, that he turned his thoughts to distant yet romantic Spain as the destination. All the mournful subject of the song ever wanted was for her to "return unspoiled" or unchanged by her travels and remain as who she was before. When he realizes that she isn't likely to return after all he settles for some boots made of fine Spanish leather instead to possibly walk in and move on towards whats next for him. Thats my interpretation anyway. 

Take a listen to the link below and as you hear him sing the story see if you can imagine someone you long for strolling the far away alleyways and market shops of old Madrid; the Tubes of Zaragoza; the hills of Catalonia; the sunny coastal surf of Valencia and the halls of the Alhambra while they remember, only somewhat, of the life that was left behind. 

One day that might just be me sailing away. 

https://vimeo.com/20204690

Hal 

So - Writing....

Day 1 (or 2) but who's counting?

Hurray for this 30 day challenge which is off to its blazing and much celebrated start; on day 2(!) I might add. Due to a longer than planned, albeit great New Years Eve / Day in Savannah I am now here and present, prepared to pour out any and all which may find itself in need of being written of; described in depth and story shared. That said let us see what awaits here at the start of a new year. Begun with renewed hopes; (re)commitments and several pounds to go, the first step is thus taken. Or stumbled. In my case, at times, face-planted in an attempt to march boldly into my new year with all things being recreated in the fresh light of hopes and dreams. Then I get up and shake off the short lived euphoria of some magical, appointed moment based on an antiquated Roman calendar system and I see that life is waiting right where I had left it. Back there at the curb, with the engine running. The driver, Reality, says to me "Ok, you've had your moment, can we now move it along?" 

The reality I awake to is best described with a quote from Death Cab For Cutie (The New Year):

                    So this is the new year

                    And I don't feel any different

                    The clanking of crystal

                    Explosions off in the distance

                    

                    So this is the new year

                    And I have no resolutions

                    For self assigned penance

                    For problems with easy solutions

Life moves on in the direction it wills. 

Truth be told, reader, this is as much (if not more) an ambition for me as it may be for you. I've committed to writing daily (with some others) for a period of 30 days as an exercise in free-form expression. This invitation stands for anyone who feels the inner call to express or create. Why do this you may ask? Because, for me, whether it is through music, visual arts or written word - to express is to live. No matter what is said here, it is an open door into my soul; a light shined into a dark and packed closet wherein lies things I've long since forgotten about. Maybe some things that are best left where they are. We all have our things like that don't we? The time is here now to clear away some of these notions, ramblings and hear-says and discover what's behind that door in the unused room down the end of the hall. 

I open with this. The first picture of 2019 (above) taken by me as I walked from a marshy area back to civilization just after midnight NYE. What does this image seem to want to say to me?  It is not full frame and there is a reason for why. Maybe you can deduce that one for yourself. The road ahead calls; ever open to head out upon. A limitless destination says "here I am, do you have the guts to come my way?" Staggering through life I often fall like the lame hurdler who always crashes yet gets back up and, paying no heed to the other runners that fly like graceful gazelles, continues the run to face the next hurdle ahead with confidence.  This is my way. Never in a straight line as it were. 

So...I see that the new year begins here with a single step into this dark yet beckoning road. I am not so brazen as to plan, and to expect, that it leads where I may desire it. It is its own blank page that I am merely a contributor to and an observer thereof. Sure, I make plans but we all know where even the best made of those usually winds up. Paving some other road it seems.

From this road I can traverse to all others and find, or lose, whatever it is that I've been looking for or needing to purge myself of. It is an invitation to move beyond the present and a promise of a future to be had, not without peril or cliffs to fall from mind you. But a road nonetheless. Blindly imploring you to take that next corner or turn without a clue in the world as to what it may hold. The not knowing is the part that keeps me alive and ever growing. Like Bono once said, "I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and that holds true for me as well reader. Maybe I never will. Maybe a part of me never wants to. 

What is there to be found down that road off in the light and under the Spanish moss hanging from the trees in the solemn, quiet hour with the marsh frogs singing? Only one way to find out and know for sure. 

Stumbling onward -

Hal