El Calcetín Rojo (The Red Sock)

I've had two teachers thus far for my Spanish studies here in Guatemala -- Cintia and Mary. Cintia did not assign homework; Mary did. I would like to share my favorite homework assignment with you.

At the end of one of my Spanish sessions, Mary wrote the following on the whiteboard:

"S/he spent an hour looking for the red sock."

My homework was to develop a story from this lead. And so that is just what I did. Later that afternoon, I sat down at my desk and flipped my brain switch to Spanish-mode. My pen began to dance across the lines on the page, spilling out ink...

that formed into words...

The Spider Totem

It's Wednesday, March 14, 2018. I'm one week into my month-long yoga training in India. It's the wee hours of the morning, and I gotta pee like a banshee.

I raise my hand to the light switch, just above the pillow. As I flick the switch, light disappears the darkness. I glance up towards my hand. All of a sudden, I'm awake. Very awake. Just inches from my fingers is this:

Ehhhh!!!

Ehhhhh, dear god almighty! That spider is bigger than my hand! That thing surely has gigantic teeth...and a deadly bite!

The Van of Valpo & Pussy Terror

After our two-month cycling trip through Patagonia in early 2016, El Mecánico and I spent six weeks living in Valparaíso. Though two years have since passed, it's time to tell you about The Van of Valpo & Pussy Terror.

During our weeks in Valparaíso, El Mecánico and I settled into a wonderful routine. In the mornings, we worked independently on our own projects. In the afternoons, we meandered together through the Chilean city's tangled cobblestone streets, staircases, and alleys.

Valparaíso's homes and buildings, cloaked in a patchwork quilt of colors and adorned with eye-inticing murals, are the epicenter of the city's Bohemian culture. As we walked through the city, we searched every wall and nook'n'cranny for our favorite murals. Our mutual awe of the city's abundant effervescence inspired a unique, creative energy between me and El Mecánico. (See Valparaíso: Murals #1 and Valparaíso: Murals #2 for photographs of our favorite murals.)

On one of our afternoon strolls, we came across a van whose windows were painted an opaque white. The van was parked at the base of a dense thicket of morning glories, reaching a hundred feet into the sky. A painting on the port of the van depicted the back side of a man in a horizontal position, his head resting atop a pillow. Along the top of the van were the words "Pussy Terror."

The notorious Van of Valpo.

What did it mean? Was the man sleeping? Was he dead? Why was there a gold crown floating inches above the man's head? What was "Pussy Terror"?

My Friend Joey

Meet my friend, Joey. She's one of those people that I am really glad to know. After you learn about Joey, you'll be glad you know her, too.

My friend, Joey. (Photo: Joey's Facebook page.)

For most of you, you will have met Joey through this blog post. But for me, I met Joey three summers ago when I was riding my bike eastbound across the country.

My Shadow Memory

I'm a firm believer that we have an obligation to ourselves (and to the world) to give life to our artistic creations. If we fail to do so, those creations will never exist, and the world won't be nearly as rich for it.

While sitting aside Muchalat Lake, on Vancouver Island, a poem came to me. While I certainly don't consider myself to be a poet, I felt the need to commit the poem to written form. And so I ran back to the campsite to grab a pen and paper. I returned to the lake and quickly scribbled the words from my mind.

While I don't foresee that anything "outwardly monumental" will come of the poem, I do know that the act of bringing the pen to paper enhanced my focus on the present moment. With that focus came a flood of joy and gratitude. For these reasons, this poem is deeply meaningful to me.

Watching the sunset at Muchalat Lake. (August 4, 2014)

My New Drawing Book

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the first drawing in my new drawing book…

A Tibetan woman holds the Dali Lama.

As a youngster, I considered myself to be fairly equal-brained. I was decent at both analytical (left-brain) and creative (right-brain) tasks. But then as I progressed through the education system, my right brain became quickly overshadowed by my left brain.

Over the years, my work life relied heavily upon logic, analytics, and objectivity. My creative-side experienced severe neglect. I can't begin to count the number of times when I had a dreadful feeling that my right brain was suffocating.

I occasionally resorted to music to keep my right brain alive -- hence my learning to play the cello and guitar a few years back. But never in my adult life did I consider drawing.