Day 3 - 6/10/16 Templeton to Amherst, MA

A beautiful, flourishing oasis after having gone through small towns thay hardly have what you would call a 'center'.  It's good to be back here.  The last time that happened was with Vinny when he came back from Asia last July.  This town is just a special place, it only ever relaxes me.  The ride today was beautiful, so many big hills on the Daniel Shay Highway.  Winding up the hills, I couldn't wait to get to each turn to see if the top was in sight; most of the time it wasn't.  But once I got to the top, everything changed.  I knew the ride down would instantly cool me down.

It was like being on a ferris wheel that would bring me down underwater and then back up to the sun to simmer again.  As bad as it was going up those monsters, no feeling can compare with speeding down the other side.  I'm sure a lot of things in life are like that: a tough ride to the top but then it all pays off.  If only major accomplishments could be made in the short time it takes to go up a steep hill.

Day 2 - 6/9/16 Harvard to Templeton, MA

Feeling just as good tonight as I did last night, let's keep the streak going!  Lots of wind and lots of hills today.  I got a little discouraged at how tired I was after 15 miles– after a handful of big hills but, I took a break before going up another one, maybe even fell asleep for a bit, and when I got back to the hill, it didn't seem so big.  I just have to remember to take it slow.  If all my days start at 8:00am that means I have a solid 12 hours to tackle 3-5 hours of biking, it doesn't need to happen all at once.  

There are many nice places to stop and take breaks.  I'm really looking forward to a burrito and a couple donuts tomorrow.  Warm meals aren't easy when you have nothing to cook with.  That's fine though.  Peanut butter sandwiches and cold cans of beans is enough to keep me alive between real meals.  I stayed at home for too long, I only say this because I miss my family.  It's good to have some time apart though.  It will be amazing when I see them again, something to look forward to, right?

Day 1 - 6/8/16 Stoneham to Harvard, MA

It feels good to feel good at the end of the first day of travel.  Unlike when I tried to walk and my legs wanted to break off at the knees.  I rode my bike 38 miles to get where I am now: sitting next to some beautiful lake in Harvard.  I'm glad the rain only lasted a half hour or so.  Now it is an unbelievable evening– not too cool, a little windy, beautiful clouds turning purple as the sun has dipped below the treeline.

I've had a few visitors at my 'campsite': a mother and daughter scouting for the right town to live in; an Indian man and who I can guess were his parents; another man with a fishing rod; two women looking for a path that goes all the way around the lake (and did not find one); a small dog that came out of the woods who would not come any closer for me to read his tags; two teenage boys with their fishing rods and tackle box; and a teenage boy and girl who appear to be sitting and watching the sunset next to the boats at the dock. And here I am, waiting for night to come so I can set up my tent and go to sleep.  I hope no one comes by to bother me tonight. 

 

Why can't it be legal to sleep where you please as long as you leave no trace?  Maybe Massachusetts is the problem, maybe other places are laid back and care free and allow folks to spend the night outside next to a lake.  Maybe there isn't a problem and I just think this isn't ok.  I guess I'll have to see on this trip.  I'm already looking forward to day 2.

February 3rd

          It's all too familiar, sinking into the couch after the daily routine of riding around in big circles for a few hours, the euphoric feeling caused by the release of endorphins in the ol' brain, looking at the calendar, seeing my departure date getting closer and closer (again).  Being trapped in a fish bowl comes to mind but, I don't need to go into any more detail about that.  Boy, when I moved back home in January I did not intend on staying this long but, I can now confirm that I cannot predict the future, there's no point in trying.  However, the pattern is just as visible as it was a couple months ago when I first tried to embark on my journey on foot.  Life has begun to feel like Groundhog Day over here and I'm Phil Connors.

          Oddly enough, I saw this movie for the first time very recently.  I actually put it on while I packed my bag the night before I left for Rockport back at the beginning of April.  It was a strange time to first see this flick because an unexpected six inches of snow fell the previous day, pushing my departure date back a little further just like the movie.  There's a quote from Phil that really struck me when I heard it: "What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same and nothing you did mattered?"  That just about sums up the feeling of day-to-day monotony I know many people have experienced.  I've been there, I feel like I'm here now but, that's mostly because I've been unemployed (retired, as I prefer to say) for over three months now.  Maybe if I didn't have 'travel across the country' at the top of my agenda I could focus on something else besides myself and things might feel a little different day after day.

          I'd be lying if I said it doesn't feel good to have no responsibilities.  I'm like a kid on the edge of summer vacation looking out on the seemingly endless reservoir of time in front of me; except, I'm 26 years old, I should be doing something more productive, shouldn't I? I feel like a bum some days but, I guess I could be even lazier and self-centered than I am.  And couldn't we all be doing a little more than what we're doing now? I'm not condemning anyone for not operating at 110% efficiency, I'm certianly not saving the planet over here.  Maybe we should all just be responsible for our own little slice of the world and make it the best it can be, much like Phil at the end of Groundhog Day, fixing flat tires, saving choking restaurant patrons, and catching that kid that falls out of the tree day after day without ever hearing a thank you.  Before he took the wellbeing of Punxsutawney into his own hands, Phil was spending his day(s?) stealing, overeating, drinking and killing himself over and over.  When people feel like they're stuck, like their lives make no difference (which is never true!), the tendency to pick up self-destructive habits is all too easy.

          After a more recent viewing of the film, a Ram Das quote came to mind as Phil makes his transformation from suicidal maniac to upstanding citizen.  "I can do nothing for you but work on myself and you can do nothing for me just work on yourself."  Isn't that great?  It may seem kind of self-centered to focus on your own situation but, self-improvement has a positive effect on how you interact with the world.  To hate yourself is to hate the world but to love yourself opens your heart to it.

          I'm really excited to leave for my trip (again) but it hasn't been totally agonizing being at home longer than planned.  I've been taught some valuable lessons while I've been feeling stuck.  Perhaps the most important being that nothing in life is guaranteed.  We can try as hard as we might to shape the future but life is just a series of events we need to react to, not attempt to control.  The other lesson is patience; how often we let that virtue slip our minds when we're stuck behind someone actually going the speed limit or when you're trying to get a four year old to eat her damn dinner.  Whatever you push always pushes back.  Ram Das and his adopted mantra come to mind again: "Be here now."  Be active in the present, don't worry about what has happened, what hasn't happened yet, or what you hope to happen.

          Phil Connors already knew everything that could and would happen on February 2nd, maybe he was left with no other choice than to be here now.  Or maybe he figured he killed himself so many times, woke up to Sonny and Cher's, 'I Got You Babe' day after day that he should focus his energy on the needs of others instead of his own misery.  Is this the key?  Should we all try to catch that falling kid from the tree even though we get no thanks again and again?  Try to be a little less selfish?  I guess it doesn't matter what kind of situation you're in or how you got there, it's what you do with your time and what you learn from it.

The End of Act I

          Right back where he started, the protagonist has encountered his first great obstacle: his body.  I drew this little picture of my home the night before I left, thinking this was the last time I'd be here for a while.  Little did I know I would be back the following morning.  So, here's what happened...

          On April 5th I was dropped off in Rockport and walked to Beverly.  By the end of the day, my knees were spent.  Upon waking up the next day, I was ready to walk again.  By the time I got to my front door in Stoneham, my knees were more than spent, they were in debt.  I had already planned to spend the next couple days at home so I rested my legs and said what I thought were my last goodbyes.  On sunday April 10th I felt 100% and walked to Concord.  Once I 

sat down on the shore of Walden Pond I didn't think I'd get back up again.  I spent the night anyway, stopped by Thoreau's cabin, or at least where it once was, drank some water from the pond and listened to the train that cuts through the woods every hour while I thought about what the Hell I'm going to do next.

          My mom picked me up in the morning.  I hobbled back to the other side of Walden through the light drizzle of rain.  I wasn't alone at the pond, there was already a cluster of people shoving out into rowboats and fishing at seven in the morning.  All those lucky people, nowhere more important to be, doing exactly what they want on a Monday morning.  If I had my way I would've been on my way to Harvard, MA, continuing my trip out West but, I took the advice from a good friend and listened to what my body was telling me: go back home.

          So, now what?  I've already said goodbye to everyone (just pretend I'm not here, friends!).  I've been planning this trip out for a long time now, I can't just give up on it.  I've been resting my legs, they feel better now.  I went to the doctor and he said everything looked fine but walking might not be the best thing for my knees.  I can dig it but, I'm definitely a little discouraged.  I've been walking around wearing my backpack for months to get ready and when the time came to leave I only made it 45 miles before my body told me to turn back.

          It's amazing how many banana peels I saw in those 45 miles.  I felt like the universe was speaking to me, confirming my thought that life is too short, telling me I was doing the right thing at the right time in the right place.  I certainly couldn't pass these peels off as mere coincidence after getting my tattoo right before I left.  Maybe this was all supposed to happen.  Maybe just doing this on foot was the wrong idea.

          The thought of taking my bike has entered my mind.  Originally I didn't want to have the burden of the bike in case something broke and I needed to fix it but, at this point fixing a bike would be a whole lot easier than fixing my legs if I wore them down to nothing.  This trip was never about walking, it was just about heading out West and seeing the country from a different perspective than a car or a train.  The important thing is to not give up on this idea I've had in my 

head.  I got this little bag from my friends at the Zen center with the all-important message, 'Never Give Up' written on it.  This little token seems extra important now and it reminds me of something Joan said the night I stayed in Beverly.  She said, 'There's no such thing as failures, just new discoveries.'  Nothing can be known until we try; I'm glad I found out I need to do something differently while I was still close to home.  I know something will work out but, until then I'll just enjoy being home for a little longer.

First Night in the Zendo

         I arrived earlier than I expected.  Luckily, Kevin was there to open the door when I rang the bell.  "You must be Dan," he said.  I was expecting Joan, the woman I met once before when I visited last summer, who I had contacted a week before I showed up with my backpack and walking stick.  She owns and lives in the Marblehead Zen Center (located in Beverly, MA); a lovely home located one street over from the Atlantic Ocean.  I told her I was attempting to walk across the country and was hoping I could spend my first night at the center.  Her response in the email was, "absolutely!"

          Kevin invited me in and said I could put my things in the library.  He had so many questions about my trip but said he couldn't think of any now that I was there.  I told him to ask me anything when he remembered.  It was just before 5:00 in the afternoon.  After I changed out of my sweaty travel clothes, Jacqueline and Kevin were talking and laughing in the kitchen.  Jacqueline comes to the zen center a few days a week to do a yoga session for anyone interested; I was just in time.  Joan arrived shortly after and met us in the zendo for yoga.

      The next few hours were a blur.  Yoga lead right into meditation when we were joined by three others; one had been there before, the other two were newcomers to the center.  Joan spoke about the Zen meditation method, what the point of staring at the wall is.  "It's about leaving everything outside of the zendo; in here we have no roles, we are just conscious bodies being present, allowing ourselves to be vulnerable while being as unmoving as the wall."

          8:30 came around so quickly and I hadn't eaten dinner yet, I don't know how I was still standing.  Everyone was gone by this point except Kevin and me.  He has been living at the Zen center for a few months now and in a few months he'll be flying to California to stay in a monastery for an "indefinite amount of time".  He ate his vegetables and rice and I had a couple peanut butter sandwiches (he offered me his delicious food but I was content with the meal I will probably eating once or twice a day for the rest of the year) and we talked about the surreal situation we were both sitting in: staying in a house owned by an incredibly kind and caring woman, both of us just trying to figure out a way to live life that's different from the usual full-time job and starting a family and all the other distractions that don't appeal to either of us, both of us about to give in to some hefty commitments with no real plans for afterward.  Neither of us had roles, we were both just being present, almost like speaking to the wall and hearing the same words being echoed back.  

          Sleep never came so easily.  I wish I could've looked at some of the books in the library but, I couldn't keep my eyes open longer than I had to.  In the morning after meditation, Joan and Kevin and Mark (another member of the center) sent me off by chanting the Jizo Dharani, a sort of mantra recited to grant extra protection to travelers.  What more could you possibly want from your hosts?  Breakfast?  Well, they took care of that too after the chanting; oatmeal, apple sauce, toast and tea filled me up before heading out into the sunshine.

          Upon stepping out through the back door and onto the porch I was confronted by this sign: 'great is the matter / of birth and death / life is fleeting, gone GONE / awake, awake each one! / do not waste this life'.  Just like life, my stay at the zendo was brief and fleeting and I am gone, off to make something out of life!

The Unthinkable

          Not long ago I walked by a cemetery and saw an old woman standing in front of a grave.  She wasn't crying or saying anything outloud, just standing quietly, looking down at whoever was buried there.  It could've been anyone, her lover, her son, her own mother.  Death doesn't discriminate; you don't have to be old to die.  I wonder what she was silently saying to this person in the ground.  It might've been nothing, maybe she was just staring into the unknown, wondering.

          Death is a mystery.  Life is a mystery, too, although at times we think we've got it figured out and then death happens and life gets flipped upside-down.  I like to think it's all an illusion, smoke and mirrors, some combination of misinformation and misperception that makes us forget death is part of life, and out of death comes new life.  The metaphors are all around us: the birth and death of the day, the changing seasons, the brief and beautiful cycle of plants blooming each Spring.  For some reason, a lot of people have trouble seeing this cycle in terms of human life.  To many, death seems like an abrupt apathetic end to a beautiful performance that only happens once.

          Yesterday I was walking in the woods with a friend.  It was one of the windiest days I had seen in a while.  We were walking towards the edge of a lake when we came across this man and his dog standing next to a fallen tree in the middle of the path.  His dog was was picking up smaller branches and running around all excited.  The man was pretty excited, too.  He said the tree had fallen less than two minutes before we showed up.  He heard a tremendous crack in the midst of a strong gust of wind.  He looked up to see where the noise came from and was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the falling tree just in time for him and his dog to move out of the way.  When my friend and I arrived the smell of fresh pine hung in the air.  The tree looked like it had exploded, there were pine needles and splinters all over the path.  My friend and I could've stumbled upon this man crushed underneath the massive tree amongst all the debris but, today was not his day to die (or his dog's).  Tragedy was avoided and the man's near-death experience became a funny story for all of us and his dog was quite happy to play with all the broken branches from the fallen tree.

 

      

          Plenty of people are worried about me going on this trip – very excited but, also worried.  For my mom, it's almost like I'm going off to war.  She had me get a set of dog tags with my identity and emergency contact information on them. She even suggested I write up something so my money and possessions can be divvied up if the unthinkable happens; for lack of a better term, my last will and testament.  I joked with her and said I'd leave it all to our dog just like that Jimmy Buffet song but, she didn't laugh as hard as me.  I'm not poking fun at you, mom (I know you're reading this), it's just funny to think of walking across America as going into war.  Really, anything can happen at anytime, though.  You can get crushed by a tree on a windy day or you could slip on a banana peel and break your neck.  These shouldn't be reasons to be afraid, they should be reasons to embrace each day in this lifetime.

          I suppose I'm putting myself in a vulnerable situation, attempting to walk 3,300 miles with 35 pounds on my back like some slow-moving turtle.  But, there's a fine line between being excessively foolish and overly cautious and I think going for a walk is literally walking this line.  The adventure is worth the risk to me.  If America turns out to be a warzone and I end up getting killed in action then so it goes.  I sure hope I don't die out there but, that's something that's just out of my control.  If I die, I will die trying to live.