Let’s Rule the World Together, But Without Those Who Disagree With Us
How far can we go? Civilization and capitalism made another huge stride on June 1st, 2011 and November 9th, 2011. The approval of the Belo Monte Dam project and beginning of construction proves that we can overcome any obstacle to increase the number in a computer which represents who we are and our value as “people” (“Corporations are people my friend!” – Mitt Romney).
Our conscious was probably the biggest obstacle we had to overcome, but it was also the easiest considering we have none. Eradicating hundreds of species unique to the area, displacing over 20,000 native individuals from their life long homes, and destroying their livelihoods is a small price to pay for bigger numbers in computers. Well… They’re not actually much bigger, but when we use this VICTORY to construct even more dams on the Xingu river, that number will become much bigger. And when we use those VICTORIES to continue conquering the rivers of South America the numbers in our computer will grow even larger! Those people, who’s lives we are destroying, probably don’t even realize that we’re helping them either. They say the plants, animals, land, and river in the area are their friends. HAH! Clearly they need an education. We won’t provide it for them, but by forcing them to COMPETE for economic resources, now that we will be taking their current way of life from them, we will clearly be making their lives better! They might even get to use Facebook.
It is becoming more and more apparent that overcoming obstacles like the above is actually quite easy. All we must do is increase the numbers in other government’s, individual’s, and “people’s” computers. We could take over the whole world this way!
And we will.
Sincerely,
Western Civilization
Chief Raoni weeps after hearing that the Belo Monte dam will be built. (Photo courtesy of the Support Chief Raoni Facepook page)
Running with the Bulls
I found a video of the day that I ran with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain. If you look closely at 3:04 to 3:06 you see me and my grey leg bandanna, which I wore to identify myself at the suggestion at the hospitaleras at my albergue, at the back of the group to the right of the bulls as they round the corner. Quite the experience. I figured this would be appropriate since I just posted pictures from that day earlier. Enjoy!
This City Dreams
Lets run through these streets. The water is still fresh in the gutters, and the cobbled stones are glistening with the cities sweat, mirroring our bodies gliding over them. Only a dream could be this real. Sleep beckons but we both know we will never have this moment again. Lets slip through the alleyways, where truths untold and unwanted lie waiting, or hidden beauty beckons undiscovered. I know this has to end, but it doesn’t have to end just yet. Lets find the city’s dreams, they can’t be far. I can feel them steaming up through the grates. I can smell them on the air. We can find them, and make them our dreams. Secret dreams that only we will ever know, for who else could believe that this city dreams, or of what it longs for. Empty streets scream of potential, the silence pregnant with the future. Standing still is impossible, for we are compelled to taste, to see, to smell, to feel, to hear, and to remember what this city gives up from its depths. We have to search deep, for the best is never a gift given lightly, or to an undeserving subject. The only request this city asks of us for all the gifts it gives is that we refrain from waking it. Let it dream, let it wait, and never give up it’s secrets, lest we are forced to wake as well.
The Story of Thyme
This is a true story, for whatever that kind of thing is worth. The heat of the sun is unhindered by clouds, and the ground looks as if the last time water has graced its surface was in a time forgotten by man. Or perhaps that is simply the way I am imagining things as I drag my feet for the last few kilometers into the town half way between Zamora and Riego del Camino (Spain), which is our stopping point for the night. I buy myself a coffee and a coke at the only open bar (can’t have to much caffeine on these journeys) and stumble back to the table where I remove my shoes and proceed to massage my ruined feet. I debate in my mind whether I should just call it quits for the day and stay in this town, but when I’m asked if I’m “OK” and can make it, the words that come out of my mouth do not betray this questioning of my capabilities.
“Sure, I’ll be fine!” I hear myself say. I think I may have sounded a bit more convincing than I meant to, because after refilling my water bottles in the bathroom we are suddenly on the road again. My mind is focused completely on my own pain, despite the beautiful views across a small lake that greet my weary eyes, and my attention continues to focus on my own selfish pains until it becomes apparent that my friend is experiencing far more pain than I am. I slow to talk to her and see if there’s anything I can do, not that I have anything to offer but my company. When her pain finally begins to ease away (possibly due to the high grade pain killers a doctor handed over a few days prior) we start walking along and talking about many different things. My mind is slowly distracted from what seemed to be unbearable pain just moments before, replaced by laughter and words of encouragement. Before long we find we are far behind anyone we know, but are making good progress considering our plight.
Before us lies a beautiful lake begging for someone to enter it. The path, marked by yellow arrows and large blocks of marble which we have been following for weeks, veers away from it. Across this delicious sight lies the ruins of a castle which her guide book claims was built in the 11th century. The decision is made before the question even leaves our lips. We are going to that castle, and, come prickly plants or slimy lake monsters, we are swimming in that lake!
So off we go, enthusiastically in spite of the ancient yellow arrows more recently crossed out by red spray paint pointing in this direction. It takes us some time to find a spot on the side of the lake where we feel safe getting in. In fact we are half way around it by this time, and have already seen a boat or two we have entertained commandeering. But we find a spot that is, if not perfect, as close to perfect as we are going to get. Stripping down to the essentials and slipping into the water is as natural and easy as anything I’ve ever done. The water is refreshingly cool, and I feel the pain and exhaustion literally evacuating my body with each kick of my legs. I suddenly feel freedom. Not the knowledge that I have the right to certain things, or that I won’t be killed for doing certain other things, but true and total freedom. I know that I am alive, and I know that everything I have ever done has led to this moment, and I know that this is good.
Reluctantly we exit the lake and strap on our packs, which are entirely to heavy. To remedy this we eat a few snacks we keep stored away for just such times. There is a spring in my step now. The pain is, if not completely gone, at least bearable. I feel refreshed, awake, and there is still the promise of adventure and ancient ruins before us.
We quickly discover why very few people opt to circumnavigate the lake. The terrain is very rocky, and more difficult than a large portion of the usual walkers on the Via de la Plata would really enjoy. The smell of thyme burns itself into my memory though, as it is littered generously around the edges of the lake. It is an intoxicating smell, full of promise. Promises of love, of loss, of the pure, and of the vivid. I know that every single time I smell thyme, from this moment until my death, I will remember today. I drink in the smell and urge her to do the same, not just because I crave that scent, but because I never want to forget it.
Finally, we stumble over the rocks to the bottom of the “cliffs” that support the walls of some ancient village. We find a perfect seat in the form of a large stone shaded by some kind of leafless bush. It is like a natural cave, perfect for a break to decide what we are going to do. It isn’t really a question that needs to be asked, but we ask it anyway.
“Should we go in and take a look?” the question echoes through the air. I start walking almost before there is even time for an answer.
What greets my eyes within the mysterious city’s dilapidated walls almost evades description. There is nothing where I come from which can compare. There are no structures remaining which human hands constructed nearly 1000 years ago at home, but here before me lies the stuff of legends. My imagination is alive with what this place must have been like way back when. The streets are bustling with merchants selling their wares, a bell rings in the castle announcing something everyone should be aware of. My knowledge of the time is to weak for me to know what these things might mean, but they are there. The veil of time is thin here. Other’s stories reverberate through the stone, the land, and the air here mixing themselves with my own story. Stories of romance, of joy, of sadness, pain, death, love, hate, victory, defeat. Stories of lives lived, lives lost, and lives just begging to be heard. If I take a wrong step I feel almost sure I will find myself in another world, another time, seated upon the same landscape but alive in a time when many feet tread this ground, and people, much like myself, lived in the structures these ancient stone walls were once part of.
Scrapes and cuts are acquired as we work our way deeper into what was once a fortress. Some claim later that they were granted by tigers hungry for human blood. Only two know the truth. Some stories are greater than the truth. Some stories transcend it. Some are just silly. Sometimes being silly is better than any medicine.
Finally, we reach the castle itself, and despite the jokes about finding lovers behind those castle walls, the atmosphere is deadly serious. At the head of the castle lies a cliff leading down to the lake below. The view is majestic. The castle itself is untouched by tourism and I am thankful for this because I know that some experiences, views, and places should not be touched by the corrupting hand of money. I take some hasty pictures, but I know that no images will ever do this moment justice, so I just sit back, take a breath, relax, smile, and am happy.
My Pilgrimage Song
I‘m starting a new series of posts here at The Mindful Pilgrim based around songs which were important to me while traveling and WHY they were important to me. Some songs I will post along with a story, some with an explanation of what they mean to me. To get the ball rolling here is a band from New Jersey called Saves The Day with This is Not an Exit
Every single day I felt as if the plugs were coming out of my dam. I welcomed the undertow grabbing at my heels. I urged those plugs loose.
I was perpetually letting go.
As I walked across the landscapes of Spain, I breathed in the air, let the past be flushed away and simply flowed with the river of experience through ups and downs. Every step led on, and I often felt like I was caught in a river, but I loved that feeling and never looked back.
To breath in the air was the only thing that I needed.
My past might not be the prettiest, and I might not have made all the best choices I could have in my life, but there’s nothing I can change about that. I’m letting life take me now, but never forgetting that I can determine where I end up. No point worrying about the past though. It’s gone, but that’s actually a beautiful thing.
So I’m just going to sail with my belly up towards the clouds, let the rocks scrape my back.
To breathe in the air will be the only thing that I have or need.
My love will be warm nights with pockets of moonlight spotlighting me as I drift.
I may just be an actor in this play, but as I walk across the stage to take my bow I know I’ll hear applause as the curtain falls. I’ll know I did it all the best I knew how.
So all I can do is smile because I know I lived well, and I know I lived exactly as I wanted to live.
A Journey by Photograph
The images from my travels over the past 6 months have been a long time coming. I’ve been promising that they would become available to you week after week. Only now am I able to actually deliver on those promises!
I have decided that I will be releasing a small batch of photos every single day for the next few weeks. For starters, I will be releasing 3 stages of The Via de la Plata each day. So keep checking that page for more and more pictures! Please note that I took over 4000 pictures, and not ALL of them will be making it to the internet, but many will!
Also, please subscribe to The Mindful Pilgrim by entering your email address on the right, or through your RSS reader. If more and more people subscribe to the blog I will begin releasing more pictures each day! So get your friends to sign up! All you will receive from me is a short email or RSS update when something new is posted on the blog. I WILL NOT be sending out ads or begging for money or anything like that, you can rest assured.
Here are the goals I’m setting:
100 Subscribers: 4 stages per day
200 Subscribers: 5 stages per day
500 Subscribers: 6 stages per day and a story for 1 image or song every day posted to the blog
1000 Subscribers: All Camino images at once, and the remaining images over the following 2 days
These goals are certainly ambitious, but possible, so tell your friends about the blog if YOU enjoy it!
Anyway, without further adieu, you can go directly to the photo albums, or you can go to the Via de la Plata page to link to individual albums for each stage!
I hope you can get even a fraction of the enjoyment I got from taking them while viewing them.
Cheers!
Pull Up a Chair, I Have Stories to Tell
I don’t even know where to begin, but if there ever was a good place to do so I guess it would be the beginning. So I’m going to start at the end.
I just returned from a six and a half month long adventure through much of mainland Europe, the UK, and Ireland. If I were to be honest, and considering I’m only talking to a computer screen, I suppose it would be silly not to be honest, even after only one night back in the USA I’m finding it hard to believe that I ever actually left the country. Perhaps it was just a hallucination. One long and wonderful dream which I thought would never end. But end it did, and here I am sitting in front of a computer screen which is far to big for its own good, and all that line of thought leads to is that I still don’t know where to begin. Perhaps I should go back to the beginning after all.
Queue writing music, stretch fingers, get comfortable. Here come words. So many words. Will I ever be able to use something as primitive as words (and primitive they are) to describe something as REAL as my experiences. I suppose if I am successful I should consider doing it more often. But I digress.
One hundred and ninty something days ago I got into a big metal tube with a friend of mine and found myself being launched across the Atlantic ocean to the far off mythical land of Spain. To my utter amazement I stepped out of that metal tube in one piece and found myself in a land far from mythical, but which was soon to become, at the very least, the stuff of legend.
But wait, that’s not actually the beginning. I could keep saying that until I reached the beginning of time as we know it, but even then I would probably be wrong. The beginning I’ll start at then is the moment three or four years ago when I first discovered that other people had my dream of traveling all over the world for long periods of time. I not only discovered that they had the same dream, but that they were living that dream. Shocking stuff! In that moment, while I was reading solbeam.com‘s “before you travel, read this” section, I vowed that I would find myself slingshotting around the world as soon as possible. As soon as possible was three or four years later I suppose.
What came next in this story of stories was me handing in my letter of resignation to a brand new supervisor/manager, who I had barely had the chance to speak with (my last supervisor/manager having recently changed departments), nerves at their extreme limit, and at the close a feeling of impending total freedom becoming more and more real by the second. These moments correspond to the feelings of a person who has never ridden a roller coaster finally deciding that they are going to, then standing in the line to get on that roller coaster (I skipped the part where I bought the ticket, got my friends to agree to come with me, etc). That feeling of impending freedom was kind of like the feeling you might feel as you ascend the first climb on your first roller coaster ride ever. It was terrifying. It was liberating. I had never felt so alive.
The stories that came next were better than I ever allowed myself to imagine, and made MY first roller coaster ride pale in comparison. Will my words ever do the experiences justice? I have my doubts, but I suppose the reader will have to be the judge.
Thus, stay tuned. The Mindful Pilgrim is about to get a bit more active.
