However, if you are reasonably able bodied and wanting to learn the business, simply apply.   You will get hired.  It is then up to you to keep the job.  This is hard work that girls can do well. The trick is to be organized in some fashion.  Stoners and drunks will be weeded out in the first week of thinning, unable to keep up. There are musicians who use the thinning work to keep their fingers limber for the second job in music.
   Washington State is home to some of the richest farmland on the planet.  The prime area is Skagit Valley where the world's seeds are grown. There are many varieties of vegetables and grains.  This is one of the most remarkable farmlands because of the long days of sunshine in the growing season. This is a result of the tilt of the earth during the annual turn around the sun.  At the peak there are nearly 23 hours of sunlight enough to grow some mighty big vegetables like the Marble Squash of Eastern Washington. 

       These squash can reach an enormous size.  Some are big enough to fill a pickup truck.  Many times, there is simply too much to be harvested.. That's when the gleaners show up.  These are the very poor that have a subsistence lifestyle and depend on this excess to put them through the long winter months.  Baked squash is so sweet.  It warms the belly of the children of these families. 

      Life is hard and then you die.  It should not be that way on this planet.  There is enough to feed everyone. Just ask the farmers. Tonasket is just one of these places I got the chance to work in the apple orchards near the Canadian border.
         One day after hours, there was a confrontation. A woman saw the man who raped her.  From across the parking lot, she took aim and drilled the rapist right between the eyes with a .22 pistol. That was the best shot I ever saw.  She was determined to get the guy.  Killed him deader than a door nail. He was completely inebriated. He felt nothing except his lights going out.   Everyone cheered her courage and fortitude. The man was a drunk who had a bad rap with everyone including the Sheriff. No one even missed this criminal. Instant karma had its day in Tonasket. She was arrested and released once the cops heard the story from different people.  Sometimes, you have to take the law into your own hands.
       On one of my many trips to Eastern Washington, I was standing admiring the rock formations along the road. Its funny how simply staring at things turns into a vision. I was looking intently at the geologic formations. I began to see the rocks forming beautiful female bodies all randomly stacked together.  My realization was women formed the earth with their shapely beauty. They suffered to bring this planet to this fruition. Why I focused on this image is beyond my rationale but it has remained lodged in my mind for all these years. 

       Even now, I can't describe the full value of this vision. My respect for women increased four fold. I was wearing my monk's robe which had a Star of David and Sufi wings embroidered with the flying heart and golden halo. I had accepted the illio monastic way of life of the Love Family. They call it illio monastic intentional living. I call it a very nice way of life.
        The apple tree is interesting in itself. Without intensive cultivation the tree reverts to a crab apple. The fruit becomes crowded and stunted. The succeeding generations of trees decline further into crab appledom which is shameful to a farmer. Just visit abandoned homesteads and neglected fruit trees to see how fast this degradation takes place. A farmer can change this outcome by carefully nurturing the grove and tending the trees. It takes seasons of hard work to care for an orchard.  This nurturance is demanding....The pleasures are many.
        I was picked up by a New York school teacher. She was driving the whole way back to New York. I was hitching to the orchard I worked at. She pulled over and wanted me to have sex with her out of the blue. I practically never said no to sex especially, unattached women. We trundled off to a nearby apple orchard out of sight from the highway. We spread the blanket and had at it like dogs in heat.
    They move water to the orchards through irrigation ditches. Over the years, they released trout in these narrow and shallow canals. During my time off, I went fishing for these trout to supplement my protein poor diet.  I unraveled a sweater and found a safety pin. I located an earthworm and threaded him onto the pin. He barely hit the water before I had a 7 lb trout on. 

     I landed this fish on the thick grasses and removed the safety pin. This fish barked at me. Since we were vegetarians eating fish goes against pure vegetarianism. The fish barbecue was delicious.
    Jubilee Thanksgiving was learning the ropes of the orchard.  He was having a difficult time with ladder sets.  While climbing up to thin the little green apples one morning, he walked right off the top of the ladder and crashed to the ground.  The ground was sodden and broke his fall. World class gypsies are a tough lot. 

      We would start in the spring and early summer with the thinning process which must be done by hand.  Now, there are chemicals that can do that job. We would then take a break of a few days and move to another orchard that needed crews. One year, we started for Colorado and the great cherry harvest after an injury-free thinning season in Washington.
   Colorado was not easy to get to. By pooling our resources we managed to pay Veronica's gas to carry our group to a little town that held this proverbial harvest. We found housing easy enough because we were part of the economy now, being paid farm workers we were respected by the towns along the way.  Cherries are difficult to harvest. You must carefully lift the bunch to make sure you do not bust a cherry or strip a stem because that will cut into your wages significantly. All of us failed in that category.  Soon I was on our way back to Washington for the fall apple harvest.   Jubilee and I started North and soon found ourselves in Telluride. We climbed Bridal Veil Falls in the nude. Ah, the misspent days of summer.  The Telluride Jazz Festival was happening.  I remember it clearly.
   One night, I had the strangest dream.  I was standing out under the stars. My body was taken over by the Holy Spirit. My head was bent to the side so that a channel for energy was opened in my spine around the upper thoracic. It was a horrible position to be in. It seemed like a long time I was channeling pure energy through this portal. Time was speeding up.   It felt like I was moving the Earth to a safer area of the solar system to avoid a collision with some unknown object hurtling towards Earth. There was no one around. It was cold. I could see the stars moving in procession.  I know some astronomy and for this to happen in reality would be almost impossible or at least improbable.  Yet it did happen. The dream was that powerful.  It finally diminished and I was released back to normalcy.
     Ever interested in live music, we went to the Telluride Music Festival to see groups like Spirogyra. By now, I had enough of Jubilees' antics so while he was taking a dump with his pants around his ankles I said adios or AMF as the case may be.  

       Now, I had to hitch back to Washington practically broke. I arrived in Lake Chelan just in time for the harvest. They give you a front mounted sack with a release at the bottom so you can dump your apples in the bin and scramble back up your ladder to pick as fast as humanly possible. You get paid by the bin and if you are not careful with the fruit they won't pay you anything.  Golden Delicious are very fragile.  Try to start with the red delicious first.  That way you learn the tricks of releasing the bag carefully.  Reds are easier that Golds.  The trees are bending down from the weight of the apples. After picking the branches spring back in a display of relief much like a cow getting milked.  The relief is palpable.
       I had to go back to Bellingham and wait for school to start. At Fairhaven College you can start classes at any time. They'll take your money just as well as any other school. I spent another few semesters there until Mount St Helen's exploded in a fiery show of ash. I was camping on the hill next to the University when the thing blew its top.  At first, I thought the Russians had nuked Bangor which is the super secret sub base on Hood Canal.  I went to see my friends who told me the real story.  The ash covered Eastern Washington as well as the Columbia River Basin so thick it closed down many operations in the fields and farms.  Volcanic ash is really good for the soil so there was a silver lining to all the disruption. 

       It has never been the same.  The joy of apples is gone. The people you met have all vanished.  The kindness and the feeling of 'welcome stranger' quickly became the same old shoddy city of before.  Nothing ever changes,  just stays the same. It is your perceptions that change.
          My nerves were shot. So many were predicting the end times which I personally don't subscribe to since every turn of the century produces that prediction. The bible is mis interpeted.   For the rational man this is a no brainer. Any child would understand this clearly. God is not planning our demise. Never has and never will.  Yet something was happening. I needed to understand this from a new perspective.

      I invited Jeff Lonstaff. to come with me to the Love Family Ranch for the Christmas break..  I knew Morning Song was looking to hook up with me again for I saw her in a vision. This was not to be. Once is enough for that lesson to be learned.   I still value her but I just can't be there for her.  She has other friends.
       Jeff is the son of a Belgian diplomat. He was so taken by the warmth and security the family represented he took the name of Imagination. I made it clear to him there was already someone by that virtuous name in the Family.    He chose to go his own way using it anyway.  Jeff was a gangling college boy with long blond hair and a beautiful girlfriend who was just as eccentric as he was. He was grinding apples to make hard cider pushing the apples into the grinder by hand.  The machine suddenly stopped. He nearly lost a finger in the grinder.  His cries were intense.  His blood was mixing with the apple juice.  He took the rest of the week off to heal. You never heal from such an injury.
     His girlfriend had a pet burro. She used this animal to help her sell roses during the holidays all the way to Valentines' Day.  She would stand on a busy street corner with the long stemmed roses in the side packs on the burro. It was quite a sight for young lovers and party goers who willingly gave her $20 bucks for a bunch of roses.  Sometimes they would only get 1 rose.  Always, it was the same price. She practically supported the Outback Farm Project single handed. She loved to listen to me play the blues with Andy.  Her only comment was that I got her wet. At least I was good at something. Females never really developed any real interest in me.  No money was the reason I suspected,  It could be my craziness too.
    Life was strange at the Outback. All sorts of girls wanted to sleep with me, though.  Katherine had a beautiful body. I was tired and needed to sleep. One night she crawled over and offered herself in the loft after a hard day of work.   I was on that work study program managed by the government. I just could not have such reckless sex with someone I did not know the history of.    I knew the risks of being promiscuous.  I was already in sort of a committed relationship with someone else with a better rack. Why would I jeopardize that for a quickie in the loft?   Never say no to sex is the lesson I learned that night.  Katherine was hostile to me ever since.
     Since my major was Communications, I was offered a chance to videotape the great Bangor protest for posterity. They gave me a video camera and a microphone to interview the different perspectives of students, farmers and soldiers.   In short, anyone who wanted to appear on camera was fair game. I was ruthless in the pursuit of the truth about this nuclear submarine base right in our backyard. I met sailors stationed there with low ranking.  The only words they seemed to know were vile and unrepeatable.
      KUGS radio took up much of my time while I was at WWU.   It was part of my work study program. The more hours I signed up for the better was the payoff so I practically lived there. I had such a knack for developing radio shows that they let me have as much air time as I wanted. My favorite was Saturday morning when the Golden Bear Air Show took flight.  This was a Children's experimental radio show. I thought by teaching children through music and reading to them it would give them more experiences to draw on as they developed themselves into adults. Teachers from all over the county would bring their classes to my radio shows and take the tour of the campus. These were very young kids who were getting the first taste of college life and what it offered.  What they learned would be useful in the future. Their teacher even asked me out in that feminine way by indicating she was impressed and wanted to know more about me.  Never saw that young lady again but it was intiguing to think she would have sex with me..
   I had other shows such as the new jazz and the live sound stage on Friday nights. I practically forced the campus electrician to put a connecting jack into the big study area next to our tiny radio station.   I could do whatever I pleased with these venues. Things change and people go about their lives of quiet desperation, poetically spoken but not by me.  Nothing ever came of all this endeavor.  I was on the way to Nowhere Soon.                The islands were looming in the distance. I could just make out Mt Constitution through the mists.  I began to have other troubles with the communists who ran Fairhaven College.  Soon I was taking that road that leads to Nowhere soon.

      This is why you never go in the wilderness without checking with someone and planning ahead for ALL contingencies.  We spent the night in Hanalei grateful to be alive and well,.It was quite a birthday for Patrice. Just another day in paradise.
     The Na Pali coast has the most interesting foot trails in the world. On one hand you have the roaring Pacific Ocean with so much life that the sea birds take their vacations here just for the free buffet. On the left is the most exotic of jungle rain forests ever seen by mankind. You are caught between two fabulous worlds while negotiating the most treacherous of trails.   If you fall you will die somewhat happy.

         As the knot came undone Charlie plummeted to the deck below breaking his back and severing his spinal cord. He lay there all night unable to even call out. No one would have heard him anyway.  When this sort of thing happens not even Krsna himself can change it.  Not even a time machine would solve this one. The night watchman of the docks passed by early in the morning and saw the crumpled body lying on the cabin roof.  The call was made and the ambulance arrived. They loaded him in and took him to The Queens' Medical Center. After a few months of therapy they gave him a wheelchair but with no feeling in his legs he needed constant care. Luckily his girlfriend served Prabupada when he came back to the Temple. She made all the difference for him.   At least he could rely on her care now. It left me incredibly sad.
    When I showed up at a Sunday Feast to relive old times, Charlie was there.  His attitude was not good.  He said things like 'better luck next time' referring to reincarnation of which the devotees believed whole halfheartedly in. Such was the summer bummer I faced with the devotees. I was on my way again to nowhere soon
        Charlie once told me this story about taking a schooner to Tahiti. They arrived at a small anchorage on one of the islands. They threw the hook over and went ashore for some R &R.  Upon returning, they found the schooner beached and laying on her side. What a shock. They spent the time in Tahiti getting her afloat again. Crazy things happen when you least expect it.

  I did have a few visitors though, from the Baba Hari Das sect who organized the Healing Gatherings after the Apple harvest. This was just a brief moment in my multiple hospitalizations because of jaudice   Those Healing Gatherings were special.  One day, a devotee of Hari Das asked me for help doing the washing at the local laundromat. She was  washing all that cash her team collected in the washer,    She explained that to cleanse cash would remove the karma that money brings with it. I was going to guard her.  No one has better try to steal this cash.  One of the most profound memories of these gatherings was watching 10 K tumble dry in the laundromat.  How do you explain this to the authorities?

     The Healing Gatherings coincicide with the Barter Fair in the fall after the apple harvest. It is worth every minute to get a free medical education from professional healers.

     Back in the day when you could mail a written letter and confidently get it there.  I wrote to Mark asking him to write back.  No letter ever appeared. That's how I knew Mark Frank had passed away. What a good friend to lose.  He followed me to Orcas and tried to buy the 'Migrant' a Friendship Sloop. They sold it to David since it was costing them plenty to have the thing. I wanted that boat so bad but David had the trust fund for his daughter, Melissa, which financed the buyout. Debra returned to New York City since her family is in the warehouse business.
      Mark introduced me to Deborah my muse. She is a beautiful girl with glasses that had been married before.  We lasted a few months which was longer than most relationships I've had.   I almost married her except for the blackouts and mental illness she suffered, I would have. We got along swell. Vegetarianism does not work for unhealthy people. Protein is one of those essential components for modern man.  At least eat a hamburger once in a while.    B 12 can't be found anywhere else except red meat. You will feel better for it. Any weight gain can be easily lost.
      Mark was an advisor about all things boats. One day he met up with me to survey another ship that had been salvaged. It came to naught since they were asking for my left nut. I volunteered Mark's left nut since he had bigger balls than I.   The search for happiness continued on this way for many years. Mark passed away.  He had whats called a scarcoma on the top of his head.  It kept getting larger and larger.  I told him many times to have it looked after by a doctor.  His stubborn nature killed him.  I heard from other folks of his passing. Death is never a pleasant experience.  It is important to prepare yourself for that eventuality.  No one gets off this planet alive.  No one.
       While on Orcas I was learning the violin by my lonesome, I had a strange occurrence that can only be admired not explained.  It was one of those waking dreams I am so famous for.  This historic figure of a European 17th century violinist all dressed in a velvet vest and frilly white shirt and curls came to me. He demonstrated such techniques that included how to hold the violin and bow when at ease. Not only did he inspire me to continue in my quiet quest for perfection in music but also reassured me that whatever I played would be accepted and not criticized.
       I went to Israel after graduation from the University of Hawaii and a short stint in Rochester working at nothing all day.   I found the address of Magen David Adom in a Chicago phone book by divine province. I happened to be thumbing through the Chicago phone book in the downtown library when plain as day, almost underlined by the hand of God jumping from the page was Magen David Adom advertising for workers in Israel. It so happened, I sent a letter to this Chapter in Chicago looking for a job. 

      They hooked me up with Canadian Air that does life flights into Ben Gurion Airport. The round trip was less than bus fare to Chicago. By some chance, I had been led to Israel.   Fortune was smiling again upon me.  I booked the ticket. For this was the 50th anniversary of the formation of Israel which was in the year of my birth 1949.  Miracles do occur and the hand of God is ever present. I worked for MDA for three months stabilizing patients. I made a few Schekels at a restaurant kitchen cleaning up after the cooks at night.  These were really messy cooks.  I wanted a violin from Tel Aviv that had been lovingly crafted in the old world style.  Knowing practically nothing about how to recognize a fine instrument, I was dependent upon the shopkeeper of Arab descent. After spending my hard earned money, I later found out this was a cheap Chinese knockoff that had no voice or depth of character. This was my introduction to the deceptive world of the middle east.   I had been interested in going to Israel after hearing how the Israelis were making the desert bloom. I wanted to work on a kibbutz since this is where it was happening.
    I met this single Mom who was raising her son alone. She showed me her heels all cracked and bleeding.  I was her best hope.  I told her to soak her feet in Epsom Salt. Then wrap them up in an old towel and slowly let them dry.  Then very carefully rub the feet with healing oils.  In three days she came back and showed me the healing process had begun in earnest.  I continued to tell her to stay off her feet as much as she could and keep them elevated so there is good blood return. There are  valves in the blood vessels that help with the return of blood from the extremities.  As you age these one way values lose their integrity so the pressure goes up forcing the blood back to the heart.  She only heard the rest part.  Eventually she tried to sew the fissures closed with needle and thread I provided.  That does not work.
    I played guitar for some of the hostelers one evening.  They instantly recognized the 12 bar blues I gathered from my days in the South.  I was quite the phenomena for a while.  There is absolutely no money in music anywhere in the world.  Those big names got there by hook and crook.
      During my 3 month stay I managed to go to old Jerusalem. I walked the Via de la Rosa stopped at each and every Station of the Cross.  There is a small hole drilled into the wall for each station just big enough for two fingers fit in.  These holes are completely black now because of all the hands of the Pilgrims that have touched this area.   I was just one in many millions. 

       The Church of the Holy Sepulcher is another important pilgrimage site for Christians. The church houses the exact spot of the crucifixion as well as many artifacts of early Christian devotion. The Skull of Adam spoken of in the Bible is both figurative speech and reality.  At the foot of the cross location there is a rock shaped like a skull.
      I tried to circumnavigate all of old Jerusalem outside the wall. I made it but with much difficulty. The story goes at the second coming Jesus will enter Jerusalem through the eastern Gate. However, this is still controlled by the Muslims. They have sealed the gate so well that not even a small child could get through. The only possibility is the bowman slots which are high above ground and not easily reached. They read our Bible as well we do.  There are many bullet holes scarring the outside of this gate from the many gunfights with the Arabs.
     After that amazing experience in Israel, I boarded a plane to Ireland which is my family homeland. I was bent on learning Irish jigs and reels on this violin with no voice. The signed bow was some consolation. I arrived at Heathrow Airport. I caught the tube to Buckingham Palace and stayed close to the Queen for a couple of nights. I was waiting for an invitation to come for high tea but she must have been preoccupied. So I settled to having high tea AT THE SAME TIME as the good Queen which technically, is having tea with the Queen.   Life is what happens to you when making other plans.   John Lennon had that insight. I soon caught the ferry to Ireland.
      On that ferry to Ireland, I came across a man having chest pains.   I had him lie down as I searched out the medical officer.  We slipped a nitro under his tongue. Soon he was feeling better.  However he was cautioned to seek medical advice very soon.
      Pub life is another world. When you sit down to your first glass of Guinness Dark drawn in the manner of the ages you begin to relax. The nightly rounds of live music and dancing left me exhausted yet fulfilled.  The pubs were crowded to overflowing.  There was no chance to even move or dance.  I was soon headed for the Cliffs of Mohr and more Irish music. I stopped in Galway for a couple of days and visited music stores and bought songbooks and music.   It was so cold.   All of this took time and my inclination to party on was failing me.  No amount of cajoling could break me free enough to perform with these veterans of music. I was there to learn not perform. I enjoyed going off somewhere quiet and playing softly to myself tunes I've heard before by carefully picking out the notes until I could play the entire tune like a pro.
      The beach coves are very revealing. Standing on the shore looking out towards the Aral Islands gave me a feeling of being home at last.   My journey to find home starts with the recognition of your birthright. Walking in the streets of Dublin I came across a street sign with my family name on it. That also created feelings of home even though things change they remain the same.  During the Potato Famine when my ancestral family left Ireland for America, there was a feeling that it could only get better somewhere else. That holds true foe me as I've done my duty to myself and my genetic heritage colonizing new lands for the people of the earth. The Irish are special people.
  Climbing down to the little cove, I discovered many interesting artifacts awash in the tidal ebb.  I found antique medicine bottles that were common in the 18th Century. As I looked further, I could see history revealed on these beaches.  One should always take some time to look when at the beach.  No telling what the sea will reveal while you are there.

     The hotel was a thriving, bug filled, organic scene if there ever was one.  The people were happy. The sea breeze at night drove away the stench that festered in the place as well as the hordes of mosquitoes.  The smell of burning mosquito coils placed under the beds to protect the sleepers were everywhere.  These coils are dangerous.  The smell of marijuana pervaded the air masking the smells of fish frying with chili peppers making for an interesting sensation.

     The huge trees with the sprawling canopies on the other side of the road belied the past filled with jungles and wild parrots. There was even a monument built with dolphins spouting water nearby which added to the ambiance of clutter and decay.
       One night, in this carefree atmosphere built by these Chinese fishermen, this paradise came to a fiery ending. Fairly sure smoking in bed caused such an instant and consuming fire. It quickly consumed the old building that must have lit the night sky for many miles around. The complexion of Golfito changed.  No more were the ladies of the evening making their way to meet their suitors. No more friendly sea life that was so close you could touch.  All was quiet.                 Quickly the piles of burnt remains and roofing were cleared away.  This is the jungles' way of reclaiming its territory.  Just memories now live with the few who stayed there. I was fortunate to have stayed for a few nights before proceeding to Puerto Jimenez on the other side of this crystalline sea full of dolphins and whales who come to breed and birth their young. I flew in on an old boxcar type airplane that leaves San Jose on a regular basis.  Nowadays, the flight is on a Nature Air which costs three times as much.
       There is a submerged sand barrier that is slowly turning Gulfo de Dulcie into a inland lake.  As the tides and swells come in and deposit more sand forming the underwater dune so that the rest of the Gulf is brackish and the inland saltwater lake is formed.  

      This is ideal for the air breathers because the water is not well oxygenated thus fewer predators.  This certainly makes it easier to couple up.  The dolphins and whales know this body of water as their own. You can have many encounters with these air breathers.
       One day, I was walking near the old loading docks that have since decayed betraying the neglect of the coastline. This was Standard Fruit territory with mega plantations of bananas. Shipping came here and loaded up the green bananas meant for the European and American markets. Those days have long since passed with the banana blight of the Gros Michel which decimated those plantations.  This disease is called appropriately,  the Panama Disease.  Now there is only one type grown namely, the Cavendish which is only propagated by planting root stock taken from mature plants.  There are no banana seeds, just what is called cakeys or root stock. Given the right conditions you will have bananas forming in a relatively short span of time. For the farmer faster is better.  For the worker the only tool is the machete.  This sword is used for nearly everything.  There are different types of these tools.  Keeping different a sharpness on each section of the blade makes it versatile.  The mill bastard file is the instrument to sharpen it.  These files rust quickly in the tropics. Sandpaper works too. Many use a sharpening stone. Bringing these sharpening stones with you will give you a much needed trade item. You can use smooth cement but it is hard to get an edge where you need it.  Even mercenary soldiers carry one in a leather scabbard to make quick work of obstacles both living and dead.
    I spied an American Coast Guard Cutter moored to the outer pilings.   She was on duty interdicting the drug traffickers making their way up the coast.   Her radar is constantly turning.  Such a ship never sleeps. Her name is the Morganthal.  She is teamed up with other maritime navies who do the interdiction. The new weapon is the semi-submersible sub that can carry tons of this poison.p
    Every month, a coastal ship arrives bringing cargo from North America.   Golfito is in what is called a duty free zone. Many householders show up to buy major appliances, sofas and mattresses for their families. The town is flooded with people and pickups on these days, all in restless anticipation of material wealth.  Golfito never ceased to amaze me at its determination to survive and carry on despite its lack of sophistication.
      All the US naval barracks are still there taken over by the local government.  In one of these buildings is the dentist who repaired my tooth.  In the oldest dentist's chair in history, she approached me with a huge syringe filled with Novocaine. The syringe had thumb loops straight out of the 1920's.  I closed my eyes and slipped into oblivion. The drill was cable driven. I was glad it went well.   It left an odd feeling in my mouth. My entire face was numb for the rest of the afternoon.
     There are a few hostels further down the road. Just ask for their location. Everybody knows everybody. Even the parrots will call you by name given enough time.   These shelters cater to all types of travelers young and old, rich or poor. These places are generally called Pensiones. There is nothing like finding a mattress and a shower to fix what ails you. I would stay a few days, then move on to another.  Costa Rica's solution to inflation was to print larger and larger denominations.  The bills are colored according to denomination with the Rojas the far easiest to spend.
      One feels like a time traveler.  The dock where 'la launchas' pick up passengers is of timeless construction.  Built of cement in circular fashion with those mighty mooring rings attest to the Spanish heritage all Costa Ricans share.  This is the only country in the world with no standing army.  No wonder the hippies flocked here in the 60's and built tree houses all over the place.
      I work up one morning in Puerto Jimenez and decided to hike the Pacific Beach to Corcovado National Park.  I first caught the jitney carrying the surfers to Cape Matapalo.  This adventure starts very early in the morning.  Once the surf boards are loaded and the last coffee is swigged, this covered pickup lumbers down the long dusty trail through marvelous jungle scenes.  The bridges are all washed out due to recent downpours.  There is always a crossing through the river build of rocks by the locals.  Costa Rica is known for the Blue Morpheus butterfly.  The riverbed was full of these beautiful creatures some as big as a man's two hands together.                 When the sunlight speckles their iridescent blue wings the true glow of these critters becomes apparent.  On the underside of these wings is fuzzy brown so when they land and park, the color brown blends in nicely to the surroundings.  Appearing as a old leaf could be a defensive adaptation so they don't get eaten by birds.
    One of most ubiquitous insects of the region are the leaf cutter ants.  These critters dominate the forest floor so much so that they have worn trails into the landscape.  This is a 24/7 operation for these colonies.  The leaves are brought to the colony to ferment for fodder for the aphids they keep underground.  These aphids are then milked for the Queen and her offspring.  If this was a human operation, Mothers would be filling the baby bottles with beer. The strange world of insects. 

         These colonies are hundreds if not thiusands of years old. I've seen biologists take castings of these underground enclaves by pouring molten metal into the opening then carefully digging it up.  It is truly astounding how vast these living quarters are.  These insects also predict weather if you are a knowledgeable investigator.    Flooding is the only real problem these insects face.  They even have a solution for that.  They build dikes around the colony until it is finally over topped then they join together to form rafts.

         Biologists from all over the world come to Costa Rica just to study the rich diversity of nature.  Especially interesting are the migratory birds that come to winter in the region.  One day on the beach, these scientists had their tripod mounted scope pointed at a snowy owl from the arctic region.  We could see this bird easily against the green jungle curtain. There are no predators only scavengers who feed on the dead. You begin the understand the Pacific Flyway because birds such as the hummingbird and many song birds make the annual trip South.  This is one of the perks of the jungle...the birds singing....

       We arrived at Cape Matapalo turnoff.  I jumped out and started walking to the Pacific Ocean.  I could hear her in the distance making a roaring sound just like a wild animal.  I could taste the salt in the air now.  I was looking for a ride but none appeared.  I eventually came to the ocean. There is a small surfing beach exposed to the Pacific swell as I prepared for another arduous hike over beach stones and broken gravel. The beach coves were so astoundingly beautiful, I had to stop just to breathe it all in.  Time waits for no man and I had no destination save the ranger station at Serena that I had to make that very day.  There is a rule of no camping for any reason in the Park itself.  Breaking this rule will cost you at least 20 USD.
      I crossed the last outpost Ranger Station and took the time to climb up river to see the many dwellings built in the trees. These treehouses were so very special because they reminded me of Hawaii on the Big Isle along a similar river. What a life playing Tarzan everyday in the jungle.
     I made it to the river Claro but there was no crossing.  The sharks swam upstream to follow the scents of garbage and a possible dinner of fish.  All I had was my jungle hammock.  The mosquitoes were descending in that steady hum of a nightfall disaster in the making
.  I suddenly had an idea.  I opened my last can of tuna by punching holes in it. I threw it as far as I could upstream. The sharks rushed towards the can of tuna.  The water was deep but I made it across without so much as a leech clinging to me.  I was exhausted.  I set up my jungle hammock on the ground propping up the tarp with beach wood and crawled in.  The sounds that the skeeters made was like a wailing banshee.  I soon was fast asleep in Corcovado National Park safe from harm, for the moment.
      Morning broke with a sudden shower. I climbed out of my hammick, rolled up my gear and started off again having filled my canteen with the freshest water ever.  Serena was not much farther down the beach. I decided to look around the river for the morning. There was a well worn trail so I followed it until I came upon a fresh print....with water just starting to fill it.  It was the paw of a Jaguar.  He was out hunting Agoutis which are small mammals that look like little pigs with hair.  I knew he was watching me.  I carefully turned right around and made quick steps back to the beach.

      I arrived at Serena Ranger Station. Unfortunately, there is a check in process where you present your permiso to traverse the park issued for one day.  The ranger carefully studied my permiso....he looked up and said ' you spent the night in the PARK' your fine is 20 USD!  I felt I committed a crime and was sentenced to life in prison.  His indignation was overwhelming.  Besides, I did not have a 20 on me.  I left all that back at the motel in Puerto Jimenez.  Luckily, a young man from NYC lent me the 20 so at least I had the wrath of God off my case.  I was still scourged by all the rest of the hikers even though I related my ordeal clearly. Such is life.  The breakfast was spectacular though, provide by the wife of the Ranger.   
     You can drive directly to Puerto Jimenez on the newly built highway that runs right by Drake's Bay.  Sir Francis Drake was he first European to make landfall in the New World of Costa Rica.  This is called the Fatal Impact by many thinkers around the world.  You can actually see this marvelous Bay in that Mel Gibson movie called Apocalypse.   If you have a mind to stay, there are a number of competing hostels surrounding the bay.  All for a price that is hard to swallow for the young adventurer. My advice? Stay out of the Cantina's with the swinging doors.  A drunk Costa Rican is as dangerous as a wild animal.  All of these bars are filled with wanna be gold miners and will show you around for an unfair price.

    I beat a hasty retreat back to the mouth of the river and the safety of the open beach. There I spent the night in swarms of mosquitoes as big as hummingbirds. What they lacked in size they made up in numbers. It reminded me of Louisiana in the summertime swamps.  At the Ranger Station I saw print castings which were identical to the ones I saw in that jungle of Costa Rica I found in Corcovado National Park. I gladly paid the $20 dollar fine.
      Not completely satisfied yet,  I wanted to see a jaguar live and in the flesh, so I went to a small privately run zoo in San Jose. I was worth it in so many ways. Not only did I see a real Jaguar but got to watch him feed. The over sized head and powerful jaws just added to the cats' mystique. His body is compact and muscular conveying a sense of overwhelming superiority. The jaws are huge compared with the rest of the head. What is truly unnerving about these predators is their wide open eyes and hypnotic stare. This animal, once he is fixated on something will not look away.
      I was in Tecpan, Mexico during Christmas of 2012. The water pump on the SAAB had started to sound like a death rattle. I was stuck there for many weeks until I could have one shipped from the states through the Mexican mails which takes forever. There was a circus in town with a man driving a caged jaguar in a trailer. The big male paced the small enclosure restlessly. The massive shoulders sloping down to the smaller hind legs reminded me of the pictures of saber toothed tigers that I had seen many times in the library. Long live el Tigre.  There is only one Jaguar left in Arizona. His name is El Jefe.  They call me El Jefe ......I wonder if it is coincidental?  Move along nothing to see here.
       On New Year's Day, I was hiking along the river enjoying the many birds flitting around in the bush.  I heard a the cry of a puppy. I went to investigate.  I found this little critter tangled up in vines that grabbed her one hind leg with a death grip. These vines are touch sensitive.  I freed the puppy and took her to the vet.  She was full of maggots. As the vet uncovered more and more of the maggots it soon became clear she was not going to survive.  In retrospect, I simply prolonged her suffering.   It probably been better if I drowned her in the river.  I took her to my hotel room and laid her on a towel. She cried all night and passed away early in the morning.
     I was at the Puerto Jimenez dock with a surfer type girl who was traveling with me to Cape Matapalo.   She wanted to go swimming and take a look at all the sea life.  I told her there might be porpoises. I didn't actually see any but who cares? I was hot to trot and the water was near.  We jumped in and swam out a few hundred feet.  I gave her my mask and fins. The waters were murky from the rains of the last night so I knew seeing something was improbable. She let out a panicked yell. Something just brushed up against her. I could see the terror in her eyes. Suddenly there was a wooosh of air and a big black male porpoise rose to breathe right next to her. I tried to tell her not to panic but she rapidly swam to the dock and climbed out shaking and cold,   I tried to explain that the porpoises were just checking her out. She was probably exuding phremones. There was nothing to be afraid of. 'But it was so slimy,' she blurted out. Guess I should have warned her. They wanted to play.  It's their ocean.

      The real attraction is the Esperanza Bar. It has everything for the ex-pat. It is the pre-eminent watering hole for the surfer crowd at Cape Matapalo.  On special occasions, the vendors sell handicrafts and display their wares. There is always something good happening whether it is food, lectures or just dancing to a DJ who happened to bring with her a lifetime of good music. The fun starts early and goes on until the rooster crows. People start drifting away. You meet the most interesting individuals at these affairs. I met a photojournalist from National Geographic as well as some of the best female dancers I've ever been with.
    It all started innocently enough. After a day of surf and comical meals, Tomas with the bad knees invited me to go for a drink.  In the spirit of fellowship I agreed. We jump in Tomas' truck and headed down the road a few miles. Tomas produced a bottle of pure alcohol made of sugar cane, in the spirit of rum but with more of a nuanced flavor reminiscent of white lightening of my Southern heritage. No fear here except for the raging headache throb. By the time we arrived at Esperanza we were feeling the effects of the pure alcohol.  We were getting giddy and foolish in speech.
      Tomas has a interesting hobby. He loves the rare trees of Matapalo which means strangler vine. He'd find the smaller sprouts under the canopy of these great trees with the large root systems called buttresses. He'd carefully dig them up and cultivate the shoots at his house. When they were ready, he would transplant the sapling in a place that would not be disturbed for some time. Some men are living beautiful lives in Costa Rica.
     Food was the answer to get this drunk under control. We had the house special. Hard to remember exactly but I am sure it involved rice and beans called pintos gallos. Tomas disappeared with his surf buddies leaving me to fend for myself among the beautiful women. 

        My skills at romance have fallen dramatically since retirement at 62 but still interested in the game of love, I tried making conversation.  I proceeded to introduce myself to as many women as I could.  Most of them were not  interested in this graying newcomer with the exaggerated ego and style of a parent in heat. Not a pretty sight.
     The music started after the setup by the thin little DJ with the loaded I Pod. She had us at the word 'musica'. People jumped up and began gyrating and prancing their best moves to the syncopated samba sounding calypso rock and roll of the era.  This was jive music so everyone naturally started shucking and jiving. The best was yet to come. Kelly was hot to trot.
    After she had burned out most of the male partners she extended an invitation to me.  I met Kelly who was dressed in a shimmy with no underwear and no dancing slippers. This Earth Mother took me to the dance floor for the spin of my life.   And spin we did with the admonition from her 'do not let go or I will go flying and probably get hurt.' All's well that ends well.  I walked the few miles to my campsite by the roaring surf alone and wondering about nothing in particular. Is Maz
    The following morning, Tomas and I were walking to a little known surfing beach called Backwash.  On the way I was chattering away about nothing in particular when Tomas grabbed my arm pulling me back for I was about to step on a variegated boa 10' in length who was lying in the roadway soaking up the heat. I went quiet for the rest of the hike down to the beach.   As we sat there admiring the splendid curve of sand the Costa Guarda appeared around the point and anchored out of the wind and waves.   I knew why they chose this spot.   As night falls, the smugglers start their run from Panama trying to move product further northward in the ever continuing cat and mouse game of narcotics trafficking. We moved to a safer location.
       I was in Puerto Jimenez staying at one of the Pensiones.  You can find them if you ask.   Cheap means a longer stay.  There was a young guy with a leg wound that was healing slowly.   I asked what happened and this is his story.....
         He is a caretaker of one of the oldest settlements of Native Americans right on top of Cape Matapalo overlooking the grand expanse of Pacific Ocean.  This acreage had been bought by New York stock market brokers when land was cheap because it was remote.  They visited a few times a year to enjoy the wonderful surfing at the Cape. The caretaker was doing some carpentry and using a skill saw.  He was trying to rip a sheet of plywood the long way by himself. This is a tough project even for even a veteran carpenter.  The trouble starts when the saw binds up and bucks backwards. The momentum threw the saw against his thigh. The wound was long and deep but it missed the femoral artery. He saved himself by grabbing the wound and holding it closed.                  After many hours, some other workers heard his cries for help on the breezes that blow constantly. They brought him down off the Cape and drove him to Puerto Jimenez which is quite a trip.  There is no hospital there only a small clinic.  The MD close the wound with stitches and prescribed antibiotics. He was now living at the Pensione where I had just arrived.
     I offered to travel with him back to Cape Matapalo just so I could see this magnificent estate he was caretaking. There is a stairway that leads from the bottom of the Cape to the top. This is a centuries old staircase dug by hand and reinforced with rock and logs.   It is very steep. The going was rough. The challenges were exciting as I reached the top.  

       Miguel was waiting for me with a refreshing beverage.  The main house was a two story affair built of the forest. These dwellings are painted with red lead paint that prevents termites and ensures the life of the building. They are in constant repair due to wind and water damage. The roof is standard palm thatch called palapa which is tied on in a series of layers all sewn together with a giant needle.   The view was perfect. You could see for many miles out to sea. The gentle curve of the earth was visible as well.  In the land of wonders this was the ultimate.
         The Cape itself is shrouded in sea fog much of the day.  When you can glimpse it is already in the afternoon.  If your imagination is wild you can visualize Pterodactyls guiding down to sea level to do their fishing. It is one of the oldest outcroppings on the face of the earth.  You'd better hurry on down there.  There has been a building boom going on for many years now...Soon the majestic cape will be encumbered by the worldly man. This is the last of the wild places in Central America.

 I joined this group in a moment of either/or deciding at the first impulse to take up this Sampradaya founded by Sri Hans. This is Guru Maharaji's father and teacher. There is so much history that it is truly difficult to portray everything about the DLM with the respect it deserves.

     I read Autobiography of a Yogi and was enamored by the spiritual stories. This book laid the foundation for more exploration of the spiritual realms through meditation that was taught to us by Maharaji and his Sannyasi. Mahatma Fakiranand Ji held a knowledge session in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.  Following him there is the leila that leads you to the understanding of just what is being dispersed to you.
       It was a cold February morning.  It was also Washington's Birthday. We were taught how to sit in meditation formally. This method has been done the same way for centuries in the remotest part of the Himalayas. These practices retreated into isolation due to persecution over the centuries. Not everyone is enthralled to have the third eye opened.  After this 4 hour knowledge session we were instructed to go outside and walk around. It was just the break of day. The wispy cirrus clouds were being configured into a storyboard. A very elegant storyboard at that. From what we could gather, a Turtle (India) was leading the Eagle (USA) followed by the Bear (Russia). It made sense because the Indian civilization is so much older than the others. It would lead. This was the guideline for the continuity of life.  This storyboard was organized in a simplified version delivered by an impartial display in the natural world.

        Mahatma Fakiranand wanted me to travel to Hattiesburg, Mississippi to receive Knowledge.  Since I was without any travel funds, I was forced to hitch.  In Mississippi during those years that was a dangerous  thing to do. I was stuck for a ride across a bridge. It was cold and the sun was setting.     Across the road was a small clapboard house.  A man appeared on the porch.   As soon as he saw me he picked up a rifle from the corner of the porch. I did not realize it at first but he was leveling the gun at me. I heard the round whiz close to my head.  I instinctively, ducked and started running towards the bridge as he continued to fire at me.  I turned to face the oncoming traffic.
     Paranoia reigned because I thought he would be driving by now remembering the last scene in Easy Rider.  I heard in the distance, the approach of a vehicle. I ran up to the roadbed with my arms waving frantically.  Mercifully, the pickup stopped. The truck of Mennonites asked me where I was going at this time of night... I said Hattiesburg. You can ride with us because that is where we are headed.  God answered my prayers that evening with these people. I arrived at the address I was given and heartily welcomed in.

    We organized a public lecture in Hattiesburg attended by just a few locals. The Mahatma wanted music so we rented instruments. I got Conga drums but with a slight difference. The Mahatma wanted me to play the drums with cymbal mallets. For a group of start up musicians we sounded pretty damn good putting our best effort into this 3 minute presentation that was unrehearsed and an instant success. The crowd showed their appreciation with sustained applause. The congas rattled the windows.

Boli Shree Satguru Dev Maharaj Ky Jai is practically all I remember from those days with DLM.

We opened an Ashram on Napoleon Ave in the uptown district of New Orleans.  We were flower crazy.  We would go on flower gathering expedirions before the first light always comung back with many colorful but stolen flowers.  One morning I spied a huge Magnolia blosoom that I just had to have. I managed to retrieve this amazing flower to be used in the Arti ceremony of the morning.  You were comoelled to meditate 2 to 4 hours a day as well as do all the chores associated with the Ashram.  

          Prior to all of this, I went to see a program by Timothy Leary that was sponsored by Tulane University.   At one time, my major was psychology. Since Dr. Leary was a respected man of  letters,  I thought I might find some inspiration.  He was dressed in white sitting on the dais like other spiritual masters I had come across in my studies of Indian philosophy.    He was surrounded by musicians and beautiful women.  He called this creating the set for the experience of LSD.  This was before it became illegal.  I learned about his travels and profound transcendental meditation and how valuable it is to explore within yourself.   I remember him as a good teacher. He was practicing what the Buddhists call Ahimsa. This principle of living does not allow for harming others in any way including all forms of life.  Token Karma-ism is what I call it since it is nearly impossible to actually do this.    After all, there are roaches and other vermin that need to be eliminated.

         The Mahatma stayed for a few days with us at the Ashram on Napoleon Ave. in New Orleans. Every night we arranged for his presentations to the public. Sometimes this would be at the Unitarian church.  We had many people come to examine his doctrines and hear this Saint speak.  It was a rare moment in New Orleans. Soon he departed for the larger holdings in Denver and LA. We all were greatly saddened at his departures. The Secretary of the ashram called New Orleans engulfed in a spiritual molasses that bogged him down.  One night very early in the morning, I was having difficulties reconciling my involvement with DLM. A spiritual being came and laid across my back comforting me. Guess I am staying for awhile more.

          We busied ourselves making barragans. These are are yoke-shaped meditation aids to support the arms while doing the manipulations of the various techniques of the meditation practitioner. These are fourfold:
    The first is called meditation on light.  You use your middle finger and thumb to gently squeeze the eyeballs thus stimulating the optic nerve.  Your index finger is positioned at the middle of the forehead where the third eye is rooted thus you are stimulating all of your optical equipment. Soon you notice a herringbone pattern that is metaphysical in appearance. After awhile, this turns into a swirl of light that begins a focus in the spiritual world.
    You switch techniques by placing your thumbs in your ears pressing more firmly on one ear. The pinky fingers hold your eyelids shut with the rest of the fingers wrapped around your skull. This position is called celestial hearing.  As you concentrate you begin to hear the celestial hum that grows more pronounced as you pursue this technique.  Watching your breathing is called being on the Word. This technique is greatly enhanced by breathing through one nostril and out through the other closing each side alternatively with the pinky and thumb. This is called Pranayama. This technique is a common practice in Yoga worldwide. If you don't alternate nostrils one side of the brain gets more oxygen which can be unnerving.
         All of these techniques are done in the first hour after awakening wrapped completely in a sheet or blanket with the baragan close beside you. It looks ludicrous to the outside world.  This is why the practice is done in private and when no one can see people wrapped up in a blanket sitting motionless for hours. As an ashram resident you are expected to meditate twice a day at dawn and sunset. The rest of your day is spent cooking or cleaning, mending and making things for the community you live in. My specialty was the flowers for Arti. I would gather preposterously huge magnolia blossoms for the arti tray. We would prowl the neighborhood for flowers that seemed to be in need of a good home. Guess you could call me the flower thief. Revealing the secrets of how to meditate is not allowed. This must be taught by the Mahatma. You need outside spiritual juice to overcome inertia and the spiritual molasses of the mundane world. It's like jump starting a car.

      The ashram is a special place. The name simply means shelter in Hindi but the name implies much more than a place to sleep. It implies a certain level of devotion to a higher source. The household is always divided between the men and women.  The women run the kitchen and manage the affairs of the household such as the acquisition of food and other household goods and services. The overall responsibility for the ashram is assigned to the Secretary who has been with the program the longest and seemingly the most trusted member. He rules the ashram with the soft glove of love.         Always chiding and teaching  he is learning of and discussing the days events with the other household members and most importantly paying the bills which can be huge. Each member brings his own special talents to the ashram.  My friend Mike brought his gift of massage therapy. He also worked for the phone company installing telephones during the day and practicing meditation at night. His expertise was invaluable. He had been to some of the great spiritual centers of the world. He had a huge roll of temple rubbings. These are created by holding rice paper over a stone frieze and rubbing it with charcoal to get the image transferred to this elegant paper, suitable for framing. These rubbings are sold privately to religious art lovers around the world.
      Mike was also a gifted massage therapist. His Mother was the receiver of his best work.  It was hard to understand why he worked to support the ashram by installing telephones all day.  He could have been a great man but chose the humble ashram life to provide the interactions he so needed. We are only here for a short period. No one gets away from Death. 

       We received many Sannyasi teachers during our brief time in New Orleans on Napoleon Ave. We got the phone call to close the ashram and move to LA one night directly from Maharaj Ji. We set to work selling possessions and acquiring a car for the three day journey through the southwest. We were finally ready to go on this new adventure. We made plenty of stops at other centers just to break up the trip. We stayed within the groups of preemies who support these re organizational trips. We arrived in LA with little fanfare. We were shown where to rest and where to feed which is most important to young vegetarians.
      We organized a program at the charming LA Community Center that had red velvet theater chairs.  The event was packed.  The Maharaj assumed his place on the embroidered red velvet dais. We all held our breath as he began to speak. His entourage of Sannyasi monks dressed in Saffron gathered close by. Time seemed to stand still. I suddenly wanted out of the building.  The air turned into a thick spiritual energy that was smothering me. I found an exit and stepped out into the fresh air under the stars. It was another panic attack. I got myself under control and rejoined the presentation.

        I spent two years following this Sampradaya. I enjoyed my time there but enough was enough. I left the movement because of health reasons. Maharaj Ji was busted for cocaine in Miami which changed my perception of this great teacher.   He never publicly denied this and was deported to Colombia which is conclusive proof of his fall from grace. I am no longer a vegetarian. I still am interested in spiritual life but with so many deprogrammers running around, it makes being devoted to one movement risky business. I studied with many other Hindi groups and churches but never was fully satisfied by these pursuits. I finally stopped as suddenly as I began. Now I recognize that God is best found within you. You need no one but God to help you in your struggles of daily living. Whomever you are calling God is your God. The quest is constant but actually leads to Nowhere Soon which seems to be my destination these days. My time is growing shorter.

      I was living at a premie house in LA with the future Mrs Guru Maharaj. She was a beautiful 24 yr old airline stewardess that certainly had my attention. I only got to meet her once since her schedule took her to exotic places I could only dream about. They got married when he was only 16 yrs old with special permission from the court. I was working at a car wash in the area. One day the whole division of police cars lined up to get washed.  It must have been 20 or so identical cars we had to wipe down that day. I couldn't tell if they wanted to mess with me or just sending a message.  I certainly went back to the house totally tuckered out and did not return ever again.  There is a great vegetarian restaurant in Laguna Beach that we made good use of.

     I made a pair of sandals that were my pride and joy. The only connection to the guild in New Orleans I had left were these sandals.   These sandals were stolen one night leaving me barefoot. One of the preemies bought me a pair of Iris Kalso earth shoes. I really didn't want them.  I left them on a store window ledge.  I was that bummed out by my loss of my handmade sandals.. Nothing will ever replace my hand built sandals with the stacked leather arch that molded to my feet perfectly.

     One night Mahatma Saphlanand and I borrowed the Mazarati that someone had given Maharaj. Since he was too young to drive it fell to this English Mahatma to take care of this awesome machine. We took it on the freeway one night about 2 am and he wound the thing up to about 200 mph. I had never driven so fast in my life. When going at that speed everything turns into a blur. The dotted lines of the lanes become a solid stripe to the eye. All I could say to him was was when do we go again?

      I had many jobs including polishing Maraji's collection of airplanes.  Between working at the Sri Hans Productions office compiling documentaries about his life and times, I gained insight into the internal workings of the DLM.    His lectures at eight years old are recorded on film.  The crowds of devotees he brought together are truly astounding. This was the time of Nehru. All the people wore the little fore and aft caps which connects everyone to the same Sampradaya. There are actually 4 of these. Only two lead to God. I was fortunate to have been a part of both of the right ones for the short time I served in the DLM.  Fate is a two edged sword. You might think of it as progress in reverse. The road to Nowhere Soon was calling.

   These big trees are disappearing rapidly due to the invention of the chainsaw.  Disease resistance is lower as the trees age. Water diversion takes away the life blood of these giants. Storms and lightning shear branches and tumble the tops. Sad to say, but the wood is their testament to man.   Zen Bones is how the refined man refers to wood.
   I walked through Rochester's parks admiring the great elms that had been growing undisturbed before the Indians were there which is quite some time ago. Some of these ancient trees are still prospering.  Some of the others, the biggest of them unfortunately, developed blight disease and were taken down.  I talked to the service crew and they said it was Dutch Elm Disease and if they don't take it down before winter it becomes a city liability.  I ran home to get my camera but had second thoughts about a picture of destruction.  She was beautiful with a full canopy that witnessed the comings and goings of many generations of people.  It is likely the Mayo Brothers admired this tree since it was close to St Mary's Hospital where they often worked.
       Behind the hospital is a small green space where I would park the car since I worked the night shift.   I would walk down the hill to the back door passing a massive Horse Chestnut tree.  Each season is different for these trees.   In May, the blossoms come out. These are shaped like tiny orchids with all the vibrancy and delicacy of any tropical orchid. Then with a great flourish the chestnuts appear after growing all the summer in the beautiful weather. The leaves are as big as a dinner plates. If you look for them in the older cities you will see them providing shade for the children. You remember your childhood, don't you?
     The River Maples produce propeller seeds which rotate in the wind thus moving them away from the parent tree. This is the evolutionary genius of trees for self propagation. One year I tried to transplant one of these trees by placing it in a container.  I wound up giving it to one of the nurses who took it to her backyard. Last I heard, it was growing like a weed. Then I heard she passed away to cancer. That tree was a symbol for her which I hope made her transition easier.

      When living with the Love Family, I joined the crew assigned to firewood production,  One cold and snowy morning we came upon a red cedar growing in a sheep pasture.   This specimen was so huge that it actually was taking over the pasture. The owner asked us to take it down.   I always have a great deal of sympathy for these old sentient beings that have stood watch over these lands for so long. She looked so serene standing draped in a snowy mantle appearing so regal, so brave.

      During my Arkansas days, I worked with a tree service in Fayetteville.   One day, we got a job taking down a live oak that was threatening the slave quarters with people still living there. It was a cold spring morning as we began the delimbing process. This is the first step. Remove as much weight and danger from the upper branches was the norm using ropes to lower the limbs. We did this with the old second hand bucket truck.

       There is a slight bulge out into the Sound from Eastsound Village. This is where old relics of these Indians can be found. It is gated now and you need special permission to even go in this area.  I, however, knew the way in to this magical area. My kayak served me well in those days.
        The nests of these birds of prey are huge. Built of seemingly random sticks these nesting platforms are in continuous use for many generations of ospreys.   It is a rare thing to see one undisturbed with eggs shells, skeletons of animals and fish surrounding the base of the tree. Occasionally, one of the chicks falls from the nest. The plunge is nearly always fatal but if the thing survives the mother will often tend the chick until it becomes prey of the many raccoons that share the island in such numbers they are considered vermin.
     The Sound is the nursery for dogfish in the Spring. Only if you are patient and observant can you see them swimming along the shore in a one direction until they reach maturity. The osprey however, feeds on a finer fish than these small sharks. She will skim the waters for salmon. Then move to the freshwater lakes for trout and sunbathing snakes. The osprey is a top predator. At maturity they are fearsome to watch. You must be still and not make any noise in order to see wildlife being themselves. Sit like an Indian.
       You need to see the redwoods to really get the idea of how immense these wonders are.   Sure...you can see the General Sherman grove on the highway. One can even drive through one of them. Until you actually see a forest of redwoods, can you really get a idea of how wonderful redwoods are.   Explore Six Rivers National Forest if you get interested in being around these trees.   Maharishi came to meditate and lecture under these great trees one year.   The stillness is awesome.   It is what biologists called an ecological system.
      Sitting on Rattlesnake Ridge one Spring morning with Taheatna, we witnessed the red cedars pollinating.   As the spring breezes moved up the valley, the trees released yellow spores that were like a thick fog moving through the trees. Life was replicating life in the pageant of creation seldom seen by humans. This is a twenty year cycle.

       My friend Tomas in Costa Rica is such a tree enthusiast. The rare trees are quickly being harvested. He would go in the late twilight and dig up the little seedlings that had sprouted underneath the canopy of these rare trees.  He would then take them to a special spot selected for this particular genome. He carefully tended it until it was able to make it on its own.  He is a super nice Tico who works for the Park Service.
     City Park in New Orleans has some of the largest Live Oaks ever to bless a city. The huge and many branched wonders were planted by the first French founders of the Bienville-Iberville expeditions from Canada.   These trees were planted for the shipbuilding trade.  There is a grove called the Dueling Oaks where many a nobleman lost his life to the sword all because of a misunderstanding he perceived. In the later years before the reform, the single shot pistol settled many of these disputes. 

       The Delgado Museum of Art is close by which is a real treat for the eye housing some of the earlier Paul Gauguin paintings.  My friend Carl Durel has a famous Dad.  He is a sculptor of renown in the upper crust of New Orleans.  You can see many of his works scattered throughout this magnificent park.  He does picture framing now specializing in those old Audubon bird prints that glorify the richness of the Southern wildreness that is quickly disappearing because of unbridled growth.  There are many artists living quiet lives in the Big Easy.
        The very biggest the trees can be found near the apple orchards of Eastern Washington. I traveled to Lake Chelan one year to work the apples. They give you a cabin so you have a place to sleep eat and do your life with some degree of respect. I got there because of the Healing Gathering being held after the harvest.  This was a function of the Baba Hari Das people.  

      On my first night there we had a huge tepee to sleep in. I met a young girl named Randi.  We were hitting it off and we would probably had done a thing together had I not stood behind her looking down at her neck. There was dirt caked on her like I have never seen.  It indicated she does not bathe with regularity which is not that bad as I also do not bathe everyday when camping.   Seeing this caused me to think of the other places that go unwashed and become stinky.  I suddenly decided this was not gong to work for me and after a few songs, I left.
         As  the weekend developed more and more healers and patients showed up.  Many chiropractors came with the bountiful gifts of food. I remember guys carrying boxes of almonds and other fresh foods mainly fruits, since this was a vegetarian-type gathering.  Others showed up like the cowboy on horseback who constantly questioned us. He was not wanting to dismount because that would indicate acceptance of us, in principle. He soon rode away.    He had other cowboy friends that were living the real life of cowboys.  Everyone pitched in to make the gathering a huge success.    

     This Gathering blossomed into many end of summer gatherings like the Barter Fair which carries the tradition forward for all the apple bonkers that come to Washington to find work.  Like birds they flock to the orchards only to dispel in the fall. The great migration lives even now.. The countryside swarms with Agricultural works from everywhere.

      Joya was a special girl from New York who came to the Pacific Northwest to work the apples. I served as a guide driving her entourage to the groves near lake Chelan. We had to cross the Cascade Mountains.. We were suddenly in a blinding snow storm in early May.  I was driving her car.  We finally could go no farther and I pulled over as far as I could.  We slept in the car.        When morning came. We heard the snowplows approaching.  I quickly put the headlights on. The snowplow missed us by mere inches piling even more snow upon us.  So there we were, the dog, two women and me. When the sun came up, the snow began to melt rapidly thus freeing us to continue on our merry way and grateful to be alive.     Out of all the things most memorable in my travels were the magnificent trees that survived the destructive nature of man.  God bless the trees.

 I am renovating my small apartment in Mexico.  This is a gratis thing...not for money but as a courtesy to the owners who live on meager wages.  This is my gift to the owner.  She will be able to rent to other tenants at a higher rate when I leave.  When my girlfriend shows up we plan to go traveling.  Plans are subject to change. I try not to make plans anymore. Life is what happens when making other plans as John Lennon is often quoted. This is actually from an English poet. John was an excellent plagiarist.
   I wrote many songs that I carefully saved in a notebook that was stolen by Shady in Arkansas. Being the victim of a foggy memory, I captured many of these songs and ballads, rewritten in other blogs here. This is my only hobby directed at creative endeavors since I've given up being a performer or recording artist.  Just too many injuries that I sustained keeps me off stage.  It takes a great deal of capital which I did not have. It takes money to make money as my Mother used to say. I started in music by organizing music festivals which blossomed to a worldwide phenomena. 
    Think about the name Capital Records. Capital? You gotta have Capital to do anything in this world.   This is a very famous record label of the 60's.  They were way ahead of their time. They sought out many rock groups bringing the acts to the studio.  Those contracts stunk to high heaven with them reaping the reward of publication at a rate of 80-20.  On to the next group to milk. I could not tolerate the Mafia controlled ASCAP of the record industry.  No loss for me but a great loss for them. Still my own man. This is why on the 4th of July we celebrate our Independence. Freedom from the oppression of organized crime.
   I can't dwell on the criminal nature of human behavior.  If I do, then it interferes with my happiness to such an extent that I am forced to write reports and take actions that may or may not have serious consequences. After years of fighting crime anonymously,  I've taken the steps to announce to the criminals that you will be next in line.  How do you actuate something like this?           Well, it starts with reporting to agencies that have that online feature.  This is the only way I know.  One day, you will talk to someone who actually believes you and do something about the intimidation via drugs and music.  As it has been said to me many times already...HAVE A NICE DAY  This is said in a sarcastically.  It is impossible to have a nice day.  Retirement is the nice day.

      I always try to make things better wherever I go.  That includes helping to manage society by taking out the criminals.  This gives them a new start after prison.  This is the only method I know that works to create a functional society.  Take out the bad guys and replace them with the good guys.  Not here to make friends.  Not here to do someone else's bidding.  Not here for anything other than my pleasure is the way I look at things now. 

      My relatives want me to go to work.  I've done that for 25 years.  I tell them I am my own man and if you cannot understand that then its your problem not mine.  I will enjoy the last laugh guaranteed.

       I digress a bit now and then, but seem to come back to my blog to record the passing of time.  Today is Mexican Independence Day September 16th.  My car broke down right near Tecpan where the first shot was fired as Mexico began that long journey away from Spain led by Father Miguel Hidalgo, a priest bent on freedom for Mexico.  The Spanish took most of the gold.  However, Mexico is inherently wealthy in many ways. There is more wealth in the mountains of Mexico than anywhere else in the world.  Silver mines abound as well as oil fields in the Gulf of Mexico tapping into the largest known reservoir of oil on earth. All of that wealth has been exploited by foreign nationals for many years.  Slowly, Mexico has taken control of its wealth only to have it stolen again by politicians. Pity the poor mestizos who populate the pueblos in Mexico.  A mestizo is a mix of indigenous and Spanish blood. It is the most common characteristic of Mexicans. There are few High Castilian Mexicans anymore.

   Things are relatively quiet here now. The journey has been hard with many broken spirits left alongside the road to victory.  The war is never won. The fight is always before you.  I despise having to walk in fear or use a weapon when a rational mind is the best tool going.  Saying the correct thing or demonstrating the right action is a far better strategy in my opinion. My weapon is my mind.

   As I get older, I am hearing the footfalls of the grim reaper as he takes many acquaintances that I've met.  Here today and gone tomorrow is how it is. There are still many days left on my card having learned how to take care of the body, mind and spirit.  They say a human can live a long life. It might be possible someday to never have to face death and live forever in the prime of life.  It will take a new discovery about the nature of cell death and the regeneration of the telomeres at the end of the chromosomes to do that.

   I just realized why retrospective is the better viewpoint when writing. A simple observation has time to mellow in the back roads of the mind.  Sort of a distillation process takes place. The long view helps with those inconsistencies when describing life in the past.  Those dusty memories are brushed off.  The tarnished silver is once again polished.  Those painful interactions are somehow forgotten. Fight on bravely.