He looked at me as if he had known me for a thousand years. Comrades in life, the passage of time through light. There are so many choices, agreements made in another place and time, sometimes these agreements can seeming lock us into a path, committed to those that agree to share our karma or not. As I watch him, my teacher in his process of living. In the early morning with his family bathing with the cold water collected in a barrel from the rains, bucket by bucket showering his family and friends. One at a time taking turns they in community prepare for the day ahead. A day full of hard work at the same time collecting their basic needs and creating what they need from that which is at their finger tips. There is no choice, in this life, his life you use what you can and you use it carefully no waste, no want for that that is not there for you. I stand on the balcony watching the sunrise and listening to the cantor connect with his God our God for there can not be more than one this is nature there either is or there is not, I believe in everything and so for this at least my life is simple. His song fills my heart and I feel on top of the world. I have come back to the place of ego, as I stand watch and listen, I am speaking to America using the newest technology and I am spending as much in one minute as my teacher who looks to me, at me, with such peace and knowing, may make in 6 hours of hard labor. Is there something wrong here or is it all in the order of the universal plan. I stand on the balcony of the grand palace and speak half way around the world my tool is to my teacher magic. As foreign as a mirror to a cave man and yet he smiles and baths in the morning light his children playing in the mud and laughing his wife so full of love I can feel it surround even me. No judgment no pain only life in balance. Beyond our basic needs what is there happiness? I have seen happiness in the darkest of places on the faces of those we or I might judge and question how can this be, this man has no cell phone, how can he be happy. The same man looks at me and questions; look at him 5 in the morning and already he has stress on his face, 500$$ cell phone a balcony high up in the palace, food for a village and champagne for a army, freedom to go and freedom to come from where to where. Where does he go and what does he do there that he does not do here. Eat, sleep, love, dream, laugh cry look into the eyes of his children? I think not. I remember looking into the eyes of my children and I can tell you it was much to long ago and has not been nearly enough in entirety to satisfy my soul. My teacher will never have this pain, in many ways I am envious of him for the most part in that he is not envious of me.
Life in the balance his, mine, both.
And so what now. I have too many choice and yet I have none imprisoned by my own castle walls. To some this can sound so spoiled and self absorbed. Even I feel heavy with my own drama. The innocence of youth lost as with my Italian lessons I am gaining clarity of all that I do not know and all that I do. The knowledge of ignorance is knowledge of the most painful kind. The complicated mind and the simple mind both powerful and both necessary. I have read that the combination of the too is the elegant mind. The path of least resistance no drama no questions the path clearly defined. I long for just one moment of clarity a moment of no option. This could be why I push myself to the point of disaster in so many areas of my life. Drug addiction, skiing, business, love, in all of these experiences I have taken myself to the point that should I not fully surrender and commit I would crash and burn. This is not elegant but only my clumsy attempt at experiencing the freedom of the non- option, without the grace of elegance.
I am now at a crossroad and must make the hardest decisions of my life. I feel
unprepared and naïve. I do not have the luxury of security nor the security of home and family. I have never felt more alone in my life, I suspect that this is because there is so much at stake. My foundation is gone I can no longer rely on being able to rebuild anew.
The confidence of which, fading with my youth.
I look to my teacher the heart of the simple man and I listen to the cantor sing and I ask myself do they even know what a handbag is, I do. Yours, hers, theirs, what difference does it make, now no difference at all. In this I find the beginning of a new peace, the power of the known, is the foundation of creation. Awareness is freedom, freedom is not easy it just is.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
From the Eyes of a Child
Mommy mommy the water is here the water is here. I could hear
Elisabetta through the thick walls of the Venetian stone building, we share with three other families. Our small apartment building is virtually canal side the only separation from Rio Tera d Isola is a small sidewalk, the path to the entrance to our building. The walls so thick that even in the afternoon when I lay down from time to time for a short nap I will sleep through Elisabettas afternoon piano lessons. It is just as well as much as I love to hear young passion and passionate she is, about everything. Everyday a new beginning, a new excuse to thrust her spirit into that which lie before her. A Venetian though and through and, even though she is still not yet 12 you can see that see will always retain the classic Venetian look, strong in stature, deep, passionate eyes, open yet clearly her own no need for the outside world to tell her, who she is. She knows and as generations before her know, she is Venetian. Her Piano is coming along as is my Italian in some ways we could be at the same stage of development, she with the repetition of musical scales and the occasional attempt at Fleur de Lys. Over and over she plays, it is hypnotic, it warms my heart to hear her improve a little each day even if it is ever so slight, it is perceivable. Maybe it is just my romantic and optimistic nature that hears her fingers sail her spirit over the keys. I wish my Italian was improving as Elisabettas piano playing. I fear that I am not improving each day but in fact slipping behind. Now that I know that I cannot speak I have lost my child like innocence and have become shy and reticent to open my mouth to utter even the simplest phrases, I suspect, I hope, this will pass. The innocence of youth can be your ally in times of learning and growth, nothing yet to stand in your way to stop you from making the simple mistakes, freely you can sail to and fro with no boundaries of right and wrong, even if you are waking up the neighbors, as Elisbetta is this morning not with her piano lessons but simply because the high water (Aqua Alta) has come and Elisabetta has been waiting since summer to wear her new high water boots the ones her mother bought for her at a discount, at the end of last years high water season. Like a good mother and homemaker Rosanna, Elisabettas mother is always looking for ways to make her budget stretch just a little bit further. Therefore when she noticed the bright yellow rain/ wading boots with the colors of the rainbow splashed over the yellow canvas, she knew that these were the boots for Elisabetta. Elisabettas birthday is July 2nd and nowhere near high water season. Even though she was thrilled when she opened the large box and saw the truly magical rain boots, she had never seen a pair more beautiful she was a touch disappointed that she needed to wait until the Aqua Alta returned before she could make use of them. Maria, Elisabetta’s best friend since infants, has a pair wading boots that Elisabetta had been coveting from the moment she laid eyes on them, green with spring flowers spread about them but these new yellow boots with the rainbows where like no others in all of Venice. And today the first day of the Aqua Alta was the day Elisabetta had been waiting for from the moment she opened her birthday present July 2nd. She loved these boots so much that I suspect that not even for one moment did she forget that the boots lay waiting for her in a box under her bed. Even on the hot and long summer days swimming in the lagoon or with her father gathering clams and mussels for Sunday dinner. Even when visiting her relatives in the country she spoke of the beautiful yellow boots. Twice each summer Elisabetta spends a week in the country, one with her cousins Roberto and Annabelle each of them her age one a season older and one just a season younger and certainly close enough to her in age to share in her excitement of the most beautiful high water boots in all of Venice. Elisabettas other summer vacation is when she visits her fathers mother who with her husband moved many years ago to the country leaving the city of their lives and the lives of generations before them. All their lives they dreamed of a place in the country with a view of the countryside, a place for a garden and room for a few animals and room for all the family to come and visit and share long summer afternoons with food music and laughter. Nona had been living alone here in her country dream for many years as Bubo had died un-expectantly soon after their dream became real. A stubborn woman Nona decided to keep the country house and carry on with building a new tradition for her family “weekends in the country” and weeklong visits with the grandchildren. The grandchildren take turns visiting Nona as she is getting on in her years and can really only manage one or two at a time and in the case of Elisabetta only one as Eliasbetta has enough energy for a whole village.
The time has come the high water is here. Elisabetta waking before the rest of her family is dressed and ready to go. She wants more than anything to run through the waters that fill Piazza San Marco before the rest of the city has had a chance to break the mirror of the still water. In order to do this she must travel almost the entire city in the opposite direction of her school and her fathers work. From their own neighborhood of Santa Croce through S. Polo, passing the Rialto fish market and the over the Rialto bridge, they walk along Teatro C. Dell’Ovo turning left at Calle Dei Fabri then a straight shot to the Piazza. This experience will take the family a minimum of one hour out of their way and their morning routine. There is no chance for refusal, Elisabetta is on a mission, it is as if Elisabetta has the chance to once again re-live her birthday. So she cries out not with any unhappiness but with joy and excitement. Mama Pappi, hurry we must beat the crowds. Together they rush through the morning ritual of caffé for pappi tea for mama and hot chocolate for Elisabetta and toast for all dressing and bundling up for the cold they leave the apartment. I can hear them running down the stairs. I decide to follow a short distance behind so not to impose and yet so not to miss the moment. Through out the city people are in different relationship with the Aqua Alta some are annoyed and some amused but none so gleefully amused as young Elisabetta, as she skips and jumps through the water in utter defiance of the cold and wet of the waters of the canals as they flood the city streets. She squeals with delight as if she is walking on top of the waters in her bright yellow boots.
We pass a group of teenagers completely unprepared clutching the walls of a SotoPortegio their feet wearing only sneakers delicately navigating a small ledge that eventually disappears, surrendering they dance through the water swearing and laughing at the same time.
Eventually Elisabetta and crew arrive at the finial destination Piazza San Marco. There is not a soul in sight she has the entire Piazza to herself. Piazza San Marco is the lowest point in all of the city and therefore has the highest water. To this point the highest water we have encountered has been not much deeper than your ankle. Piazza San Marco is a different story the water here is mid calf in depth and Elizabetta is in flood boot heaven, she squeals and takes off in a dead run through the center of the Piazza, breaking the mirror of the still water with every step and every jump. The city is beginning to come alive now and the business people and workers all finding their way across the high water. Workers are assembling scaffolding that they place through out the city. Two feet in height these temporary walkways make it possible for the population to move about the city escaping the high water, but not completely. This time of year when the High Water is here never assume you can navigate the city and escape the water. During this season there is a seasonal business, large men for a fee will carry you on their backs across the water. It is not uncommon to see a finely dressed business man with his fine shoes, suit, coat and briefcase in hand being carried on the back of a human carrier.
But today young Elisabetta is well prepared and managed to stay completely dry with her new bright yellow boots with the rainbows painted on the yellow canvas. As I take a seat at the Florian Café one of the oldest and most elegant café’s in Venice, opening on 29 December 1720,on the edge of Piazza San Marco for a Italian breakfast and a front row seat for the Aqua Alta show staring Elizabetta and her supporting cast I feel blessed to have even the smallest glimpse of life through the eyes of a child a Venetian child. After breakfast I will have to go and buy myself a pair of my own magic boots. Maybe mine will be blue with clouds or better yet stars.
Elisabetta through the thick walls of the Venetian stone building, we share with three other families. Our small apartment building is virtually canal side the only separation from Rio Tera d Isola is a small sidewalk, the path to the entrance to our building. The walls so thick that even in the afternoon when I lay down from time to time for a short nap I will sleep through Elisabettas afternoon piano lessons. It is just as well as much as I love to hear young passion and passionate she is, about everything. Everyday a new beginning, a new excuse to thrust her spirit into that which lie before her. A Venetian though and through and, even though she is still not yet 12 you can see that see will always retain the classic Venetian look, strong in stature, deep, passionate eyes, open yet clearly her own no need for the outside world to tell her, who she is. She knows and as generations before her know, she is Venetian. Her Piano is coming along as is my Italian in some ways we could be at the same stage of development, she with the repetition of musical scales and the occasional attempt at Fleur de Lys. Over and over she plays, it is hypnotic, it warms my heart to hear her improve a little each day even if it is ever so slight, it is perceivable. Maybe it is just my romantic and optimistic nature that hears her fingers sail her spirit over the keys. I wish my Italian was improving as Elisabettas piano playing. I fear that I am not improving each day but in fact slipping behind. Now that I know that I cannot speak I have lost my child like innocence and have become shy and reticent to open my mouth to utter even the simplest phrases, I suspect, I hope, this will pass. The innocence of youth can be your ally in times of learning and growth, nothing yet to stand in your way to stop you from making the simple mistakes, freely you can sail to and fro with no boundaries of right and wrong, even if you are waking up the neighbors, as Elisbetta is this morning not with her piano lessons but simply because the high water (Aqua Alta) has come and Elisabetta has been waiting since summer to wear her new high water boots the ones her mother bought for her at a discount, at the end of last years high water season. Like a good mother and homemaker Rosanna, Elisabettas mother is always looking for ways to make her budget stretch just a little bit further. Therefore when she noticed the bright yellow rain/ wading boots with the colors of the rainbow splashed over the yellow canvas, she knew that these were the boots for Elisabetta. Elisabettas birthday is July 2nd and nowhere near high water season. Even though she was thrilled when she opened the large box and saw the truly magical rain boots, she had never seen a pair more beautiful she was a touch disappointed that she needed to wait until the Aqua Alta returned before she could make use of them. Maria, Elisabetta’s best friend since infants, has a pair wading boots that Elisabetta had been coveting from the moment she laid eyes on them, green with spring flowers spread about them but these new yellow boots with the rainbows where like no others in all of Venice. And today the first day of the Aqua Alta was the day Elisabetta had been waiting for from the moment she opened her birthday present July 2nd. She loved these boots so much that I suspect that not even for one moment did she forget that the boots lay waiting for her in a box under her bed. Even on the hot and long summer days swimming in the lagoon or with her father gathering clams and mussels for Sunday dinner. Even when visiting her relatives in the country she spoke of the beautiful yellow boots. Twice each summer Elisabetta spends a week in the country, one with her cousins Roberto and Annabelle each of them her age one a season older and one just a season younger and certainly close enough to her in age to share in her excitement of the most beautiful high water boots in all of Venice. Elisabettas other summer vacation is when she visits her fathers mother who with her husband moved many years ago to the country leaving the city of their lives and the lives of generations before them. All their lives they dreamed of a place in the country with a view of the countryside, a place for a garden and room for a few animals and room for all the family to come and visit and share long summer afternoons with food music and laughter. Nona had been living alone here in her country dream for many years as Bubo had died un-expectantly soon after their dream became real. A stubborn woman Nona decided to keep the country house and carry on with building a new tradition for her family “weekends in the country” and weeklong visits with the grandchildren. The grandchildren take turns visiting Nona as she is getting on in her years and can really only manage one or two at a time and in the case of Elisabetta only one as Eliasbetta has enough energy for a whole village.
The time has come the high water is here. Elisabetta waking before the rest of her family is dressed and ready to go. She wants more than anything to run through the waters that fill Piazza San Marco before the rest of the city has had a chance to break the mirror of the still water. In order to do this she must travel almost the entire city in the opposite direction of her school and her fathers work. From their own neighborhood of Santa Croce through S. Polo, passing the Rialto fish market and the over the Rialto bridge, they walk along Teatro C. Dell’Ovo turning left at Calle Dei Fabri then a straight shot to the Piazza. This experience will take the family a minimum of one hour out of their way and their morning routine. There is no chance for refusal, Elisabetta is on a mission, it is as if Elisabetta has the chance to once again re-live her birthday. So she cries out not with any unhappiness but with joy and excitement. Mama Pappi, hurry we must beat the crowds. Together they rush through the morning ritual of caffé for pappi tea for mama and hot chocolate for Elisabetta and toast for all dressing and bundling up for the cold they leave the apartment. I can hear them running down the stairs. I decide to follow a short distance behind so not to impose and yet so not to miss the moment. Through out the city people are in different relationship with the Aqua Alta some are annoyed and some amused but none so gleefully amused as young Elisabetta, as she skips and jumps through the water in utter defiance of the cold and wet of the waters of the canals as they flood the city streets. She squeals with delight as if she is walking on top of the waters in her bright yellow boots.
We pass a group of teenagers completely unprepared clutching the walls of a SotoPortegio their feet wearing only sneakers delicately navigating a small ledge that eventually disappears, surrendering they dance through the water swearing and laughing at the same time.
Eventually Elisabetta and crew arrive at the finial destination Piazza San Marco. There is not a soul in sight she has the entire Piazza to herself. Piazza San Marco is the lowest point in all of the city and therefore has the highest water. To this point the highest water we have encountered has been not much deeper than your ankle. Piazza San Marco is a different story the water here is mid calf in depth and Elizabetta is in flood boot heaven, she squeals and takes off in a dead run through the center of the Piazza, breaking the mirror of the still water with every step and every jump. The city is beginning to come alive now and the business people and workers all finding their way across the high water. Workers are assembling scaffolding that they place through out the city. Two feet in height these temporary walkways make it possible for the population to move about the city escaping the high water, but not completely. This time of year when the High Water is here never assume you can navigate the city and escape the water. During this season there is a seasonal business, large men for a fee will carry you on their backs across the water. It is not uncommon to see a finely dressed business man with his fine shoes, suit, coat and briefcase in hand being carried on the back of a human carrier.
But today young Elisabetta is well prepared and managed to stay completely dry with her new bright yellow boots with the rainbows painted on the yellow canvas. As I take a seat at the Florian Café one of the oldest and most elegant café’s in Venice, opening on 29 December 1720,on the edge of Piazza San Marco for a Italian breakfast and a front row seat for the Aqua Alta show staring Elizabetta and her supporting cast I feel blessed to have even the smallest glimpse of life through the eyes of a child a Venetian child. After breakfast I will have to go and buy myself a pair of my own magic boots. Maybe mine will be blue with clouds or better yet stars.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Welcome Home Sailor
This is the finish of my first week back in Venice. I have been studying Italian at a language school for 4 hours a day, I am immersed in the Italian language…… my head hurts. The funny part of this is, that when you are in an emersion program you have to speak the language no matter how badly, and the teacher has to answer you no matter your inability to understand her reply. This makes for some very comical situations in class. I have this vision of the teachers at the bar after school laughing until they are crying. I have been having fun creating opportunity to speak interactive dialogue. Many of the exercises we are asked to do, can be done at a Dick and Jane level. I chose to mix it up a bit so that I can get the most bang for my buck taking any opportunity to respond in such away that the teacher is taken back with my response contrary to ordinary to the point of replying “really? and why is that?” Upon entry to the program I was first tested, both written and verbal. I have no idea how I did on the written but in by verbal I did well enough that the teacher decided to put me in the second level. Although somewhat flattering, it is really similar to learning how to swim in the ocean or a rushing river. I have none of the foundation that the other students have from the 1st level class. I sound better than the rest of the class but they make sense! Oh well I have never been accused of taking the easy way. My Italian is far worse than I ever thought and now that I am aware of how badly I speak I am much more reticent too speak, my pronunciation has suffered and I think I must now be speaking as a three year old. I will be at the school for 20 days over 4 weeks, I feel I could attend for one year and still be crawling along. Oh well I am learning and my discouragement is not in anyway compromising my motivation, I am committed to leaning to speak Italian. I am living in the apartment of a
Young Italian woman in her thirties. The arrangements were made through the school. The apartment is very nice as is my host. She speaks enough English that we are not helpless and yet not enough that we can rely on it. This is all apart of the immersion program. Elisabetta is great and the apartment is great, close to school close to Postali
(my crew club house) what else could I ask for! The school is an excellent program, the teachers all good teachers, they are committed and happy they all love what they do.
In mid week we were offered an option for an extra activity, “dinner at Marina’s.”
This turned out to be the best experience yet, I will never miss one. We met at 5:30 in Campo S. Maria Nova where Marina rallied us together and escorted us to her apartment.
It is common in Venice for hosts to do this as it can be difficult to find an address. I have been to two previous dinner parties this being the third where the guests all rendezvoused at a bar for a drink or two before all walking together to the location of the actual dinner.
Six of us from the school found each other in the Campo very easily as we all look so, not Venetian. Introducing ourselves, we had enough time to chat and have a Spitz before Marina showed up to escort us to the dinner. Marina’s apartment was not an apartment at all but a Palazzo. It was huge! The entry hall was 30 feet by 60 feet with 20 foot ceilings. Murano glass chandelier ornate plaster moldings and marbolino walls. The floors were Venetian marble, and this was just the entry hall. This was my first time inside a Venetian Palazzo. Technically Marina’s home is not a Palazzo as it is does not occupy the entire building it is only one floor and therefore an apartment, regardless it was a Palazzo to me. We prepared the dinner together, first beginning with the pre-dinner finger food then the preparation of the items that needed to be baked. After filling the oven we all gathered in the library for Spitz and snacks. The library another story altogether, mosaic wood floors the same size as the entry hall but one of the narrow 30foot sides coved into a half round curved library bookshelf of birds eye maple…..stunning. The carpenter in me was drooling and the historian in me was jumping as a child waiting to see the latest Disney release. This Apartment as it is properly referred to was first built 400 years ago and then remodeled 100 hundred years ago and then 30 years ago updated with modern bathrooms.
I am not sure when she put the oversize Jacuzzi bathtubs in but I am sure it has been within the past 5 years they look like they were put in yesterday. The kitchen is still as it was first designed the only difference is that in the side rooms that were created to keep the ovens and the storage out of sight are updated with modern appliances. Dinner finally ready to eat we gathered in the entry hall that had magically been transformed into a dining room. We had……. I can’t do this I think it is enough to say the dinner was 4 courses, beginning with champagne and ending with grappa. After the second bottle of champagne one of the other students in attendance asked if we could have some more please, and Marina replied for the first time in the evening in English, “of course dear you can all the champagne you want……. We have rivers of champagne!!” I knew that the evening was to go into second gear and that it did. I left at 1am with Marina 70 years old four courses, eight hours, and God only knows how many bottles of champagne singing and playing the guitar.
It is wonderful to be back in Venice. The weather is cold and the mood of the city has shifted with the weather. The flowers are gone and the sidewalks thin, many of the outside dining tables have been put away. You can still find cafes and restaurants with tables outside but they are few and often empty. Yet still Venice welcomes me back with open arms such as a lover welcomes you home from a journey. My fiends are exactly the same, my friends, their warm welcome makes me feel very much at home. I love this time of year, easy to say, as I love all seasons. In some ways I see Venice through even more romantic eyes than this summer. Everyone is bundled up with coats, scarves, and hats. The restaurants and cafes welcome you to come inside to snuggle up to the bar or huddle at a table in the warmth of the candle lit room. The tourist season has calmed down a great deal as a result the streets are not so alive. Many of the Venetians who make their money from the tourist business have migrated elsewhere to winter, some of the population is in hibernation with others the life goes on unchanged season to season year to year.
This past week has been hell on me. The 36 hour trip from Thailand, arriving back in Portland and straight back to work, I barely had time to repack, then the 13 hour flight to Venice. The travel combination along with a slight fever and my first night with Francisco making the rounds connecting with friends wiped me out. Wednesday after class I returned to my apartment and decided to lay down for 30 min. for a short rest. I had a commitment for a meeting an hour later so I did not undress I even left my shoes and coat. The windows open letting in the cool autumn breeze, lullabying me too sleep. The next thing I knew it was 8 hours later and I had slept through 2 phone calls and missed my appointment. This is not like me at all, this is as exhausted as I remember being within my life. I am rested now.
I need to find away to sleep on airplanes. My plane miles have racked up enough that I am able to fly first class most of the time however I still have a hard time sleeping I have tried melatonin and other over the counter solutions, and I have tried staying up the night before in hopes that I will be so tired that I will sleep on the plane. This is the most ridiculous idea I have ever had but in desperation we can be forced to ridiculous options. I do not intend to stop or even slowdown my traveling any time soon so I need to find a solution. Maybe when I do there will be a how to book in it, a little point of sale thing that sells at the convenience counters through out the airport. Opportunity lay in wait at every corner.
Good ideas are like beautiful women.
Tonight I will have dinner with Serge at Taverna del Remer. Sunday night at the restaurant is very popular. The tables are all pushed together to accommodate the big families. Sunday night is family night in Venice. I will have a wonderful meal with a good friend in one of the warmest restaurants I have ever been in, welcomed by the owner Emilio and the Remer crew who treat me as one of the family most often pushing my money aside. Sitting by the fire being serenaded by Stefano on the piano he may even get me to play a few songs; and yet tonight I am lonely, I miss…………….
Missing nothing sometimes you must miss everything.
Young Italian woman in her thirties. The arrangements were made through the school. The apartment is very nice as is my host. She speaks enough English that we are not helpless and yet not enough that we can rely on it. This is all apart of the immersion program. Elisabetta is great and the apartment is great, close to school close to Postali
(my crew club house) what else could I ask for! The school is an excellent program, the teachers all good teachers, they are committed and happy they all love what they do.
In mid week we were offered an option for an extra activity, “dinner at Marina’s.”
This turned out to be the best experience yet, I will never miss one. We met at 5:30 in Campo S. Maria Nova where Marina rallied us together and escorted us to her apartment.
It is common in Venice for hosts to do this as it can be difficult to find an address. I have been to two previous dinner parties this being the third where the guests all rendezvoused at a bar for a drink or two before all walking together to the location of the actual dinner.
Six of us from the school found each other in the Campo very easily as we all look so, not Venetian. Introducing ourselves, we had enough time to chat and have a Spitz before Marina showed up to escort us to the dinner. Marina’s apartment was not an apartment at all but a Palazzo. It was huge! The entry hall was 30 feet by 60 feet with 20 foot ceilings. Murano glass chandelier ornate plaster moldings and marbolino walls. The floors were Venetian marble, and this was just the entry hall. This was my first time inside a Venetian Palazzo. Technically Marina’s home is not a Palazzo as it is does not occupy the entire building it is only one floor and therefore an apartment, regardless it was a Palazzo to me. We prepared the dinner together, first beginning with the pre-dinner finger food then the preparation of the items that needed to be baked. After filling the oven we all gathered in the library for Spitz and snacks. The library another story altogether, mosaic wood floors the same size as the entry hall but one of the narrow 30foot sides coved into a half round curved library bookshelf of birds eye maple…..stunning. The carpenter in me was drooling and the historian in me was jumping as a child waiting to see the latest Disney release. This Apartment as it is properly referred to was first built 400 years ago and then remodeled 100 hundred years ago and then 30 years ago updated with modern bathrooms.
I am not sure when she put the oversize Jacuzzi bathtubs in but I am sure it has been within the past 5 years they look like they were put in yesterday. The kitchen is still as it was first designed the only difference is that in the side rooms that were created to keep the ovens and the storage out of sight are updated with modern appliances. Dinner finally ready to eat we gathered in the entry hall that had magically been transformed into a dining room. We had……. I can’t do this I think it is enough to say the dinner was 4 courses, beginning with champagne and ending with grappa. After the second bottle of champagne one of the other students in attendance asked if we could have some more please, and Marina replied for the first time in the evening in English, “of course dear you can all the champagne you want……. We have rivers of champagne!!” I knew that the evening was to go into second gear and that it did. I left at 1am with Marina 70 years old four courses, eight hours, and God only knows how many bottles of champagne singing and playing the guitar.
It is wonderful to be back in Venice. The weather is cold and the mood of the city has shifted with the weather. The flowers are gone and the sidewalks thin, many of the outside dining tables have been put away. You can still find cafes and restaurants with tables outside but they are few and often empty. Yet still Venice welcomes me back with open arms such as a lover welcomes you home from a journey. My fiends are exactly the same, my friends, their warm welcome makes me feel very much at home. I love this time of year, easy to say, as I love all seasons. In some ways I see Venice through even more romantic eyes than this summer. Everyone is bundled up with coats, scarves, and hats. The restaurants and cafes welcome you to come inside to snuggle up to the bar or huddle at a table in the warmth of the candle lit room. The tourist season has calmed down a great deal as a result the streets are not so alive. Many of the Venetians who make their money from the tourist business have migrated elsewhere to winter, some of the population is in hibernation with others the life goes on unchanged season to season year to year.
This past week has been hell on me. The 36 hour trip from Thailand, arriving back in Portland and straight back to work, I barely had time to repack, then the 13 hour flight to Venice. The travel combination along with a slight fever and my first night with Francisco making the rounds connecting with friends wiped me out. Wednesday after class I returned to my apartment and decided to lay down for 30 min. for a short rest. I had a commitment for a meeting an hour later so I did not undress I even left my shoes and coat. The windows open letting in the cool autumn breeze, lullabying me too sleep. The next thing I knew it was 8 hours later and I had slept through 2 phone calls and missed my appointment. This is not like me at all, this is as exhausted as I remember being within my life. I am rested now.
I need to find away to sleep on airplanes. My plane miles have racked up enough that I am able to fly first class most of the time however I still have a hard time sleeping I have tried melatonin and other over the counter solutions, and I have tried staying up the night before in hopes that I will be so tired that I will sleep on the plane. This is the most ridiculous idea I have ever had but in desperation we can be forced to ridiculous options. I do not intend to stop or even slowdown my traveling any time soon so I need to find a solution. Maybe when I do there will be a how to book in it, a little point of sale thing that sells at the convenience counters through out the airport. Opportunity lay in wait at every corner.
Good ideas are like beautiful women.
Tonight I will have dinner with Serge at Taverna del Remer. Sunday night at the restaurant is very popular. The tables are all pushed together to accommodate the big families. Sunday night is family night in Venice. I will have a wonderful meal with a good friend in one of the warmest restaurants I have ever been in, welcomed by the owner Emilio and the Remer crew who treat me as one of the family most often pushing my money aside. Sitting by the fire being serenaded by Stefano on the piano he may even get me to play a few songs; and yet tonight I am lonely, I miss…………….
Missing nothing sometimes you must miss everything.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Just a Feeling
It is difficult to communicate; a swelling of emotion, crying inside, tears streaming down my face, sobbing, there are so many different ways to describe the response to emotional expression that can move me too tears of any degree whether they be of sadness or joy. At times just on the edge of tears I can feel as if, I will, at any moment burst into sobbing. At times it is a simple warming in my heart that can be accelerated as I recognize that I am sensitive to any degree and open to seeing on any level, making me smile. The smallest pops from the universe can stop me in my tracks. When I see an angel on the side of the road through the eyes of a child playing in a field looking up at the precise moment that I, turn looking out the window of a speeding car, our eyes meeting for a flash, a glimpse into the heart of God, speaking to me through the eyes of a child. Do you remember, do you believe? I believe in everything, I wonder how one could not. Some people believe in nothing, can you believe that!
30,000 feet above London, it is easy to believe in everything. I can see the lights below. If I knew the city I would be able to make out the neighborhoods and counties. Essex, Knightsbridge, I can see those Essex girls at this moment getting ready for school their moms with their tea and a cig, one dreaming of, and one, putting it on for the Ritz, teasing her hair, or spiking it, it matters not, go-go boots, combat boots it’s all the same, for an Essex girl, they never change “ever met one?” you would know if you did, promise, and you would never forget. 30,000 feet over London damm I love to fly. I am not wild about sitting in the same place in the same position for 4 to 13 hours, 13 hours is the longest I have been on a plane, and still I love flying. It is magic, a magic carpet ride with every seat the best in the house. Isaaco took me to the airport this morning, my Portland visit over, next stop Venice. As usual we stayed up very late I was thinking I would just stay up. Packing took all day, well to be truthful preparations took all day. I did not start the official packing process until 4:pm my flight leaving at 7:30am making for a house departure of 5:am. I finished all I needed to do at around 3:am. Isaaco showed up around midnight, slowing the process down considerably, Ok by me I love the guy within minutes we were singing Vasco and punching each other fighting like brothers. Hanging out with Isaaco is the closest experience to having a brother, a real brother I can imagine. He is so in your face, open and real and really a bit of a brat. I have friends I love very much, call them brother and recognize the deep bond of our friendship. But with Isaaco he acts and therefore I act like we have been fighting for the last cookie for lifetimes. It would have been best to have been Issaco’s little brother because then he would have been the protector perhaps the bully to some degree but his heart is so big I think he would have made the perfect big brother. He would have made me tough and at the same time teach me of deep love, and I know he would have supported me in anything jealousy not an option, in fact he would have been the sort of brother that if I did not pursue my dreams he would beat my ass. But if I failed he would laugh and cry and we would go have Gelato. The other thing I know for sure is there would not be any bullies picking on me in the neighborhood, Isaaco is one of the toughest little fuckers I have ever met. I am going to take him to Thai boxing school with me not a tourist trap of a school the real thing where the only language spoken is Thai and foot to face. I think this might be the only place Isaaco will meet his match. I think it is important for every man to meet his match, at least once in every area in his life, teaches humility, limits and respect. So Isaaco pack your bags, “Visto che andiamo in Thailandia vedo che prendi un calcio nel sedere”. After a few hours of additional packing and playing around with Isaaco, I decided I could not go the long haul so went to bed to lay down for just a few hours, I even left my boots on, my bags packed and loaded in the truck and I dressed in my travel clothes. 501’s, engineer boots, Sharkskin belt, black t-shirt velvet jacket, my head with only three weeks growth, my mala beads given to me by my sister Jennifer. ( Thank you Jenny I look forward to sharing with you the experiences that opened up to me as a result of wearing the beads you lent me to help me heal, thank you, I also look forward to returning them to you, soon.) After 5 or 10 minutes I kicked off my boots and fell fast asleep rare for me but indeed fast asleep. I set the alarm and double checked it. The same alarm I have been using or Debbie has been using for years. I do not use the alarm much I wake naturally sleeping is my problem not waking up, other than this morning. My little two hours shut eye turned into a three and a half hour nap, before I know it I am sitting straight up in bed staring at the clock 6:30. I have 60min. till take off the airport is a 20 minute drive without traffic, I seek out Isaaco he is curled up in the corner of the downstairs office on the floor, I do not even think about this I just start kicking him and yelling Isaaco move, move, move, as if we were on a military alert under attack. I think many people would have just sat down and cried and began calling the airline, not me my bags are locked and loaded, we’re going to the fucking airport. Once along the way, Isaaco spoke out regarding my driving and to think, this from an Italian….. I looked at him and told him if he wanted to go to the airport with me that he would have to keep quiet. I don’t think I put it quite these terms but I got my point across. The traffic was moderate but I was able to average 90 most of the way. We pull up to the curb Isaaco and I jump out, of the truck, Isaaco to unload the bags, Guitar, skies, camera, recording gear, and stuff, 8 bags in all. I go to the skycap give him 100 bucks and tell him “get me on that fucking plane.” The whole sky cap crew jumps in line to help and together they made it happen, and had fun doing so, I made the plane. Standing at my seat arranging my gear I hear the flight attendants speaking Italian, I catch myself in surprise I think I am about to cry, choke up, sob? I don’t think so but I am a touch emotional, I am going to Venice.
30,000 feet above London, it is easy to believe in everything. I can see the lights below. If I knew the city I would be able to make out the neighborhoods and counties. Essex, Knightsbridge, I can see those Essex girls at this moment getting ready for school their moms with their tea and a cig, one dreaming of, and one, putting it on for the Ritz, teasing her hair, or spiking it, it matters not, go-go boots, combat boots it’s all the same, for an Essex girl, they never change “ever met one?” you would know if you did, promise, and you would never forget. 30,000 feet over London damm I love to fly. I am not wild about sitting in the same place in the same position for 4 to 13 hours, 13 hours is the longest I have been on a plane, and still I love flying. It is magic, a magic carpet ride with every seat the best in the house. Isaaco took me to the airport this morning, my Portland visit over, next stop Venice. As usual we stayed up very late I was thinking I would just stay up. Packing took all day, well to be truthful preparations took all day. I did not start the official packing process until 4:pm my flight leaving at 7:30am making for a house departure of 5:am. I finished all I needed to do at around 3:am. Isaaco showed up around midnight, slowing the process down considerably, Ok by me I love the guy within minutes we were singing Vasco and punching each other fighting like brothers. Hanging out with Isaaco is the closest experience to having a brother, a real brother I can imagine. He is so in your face, open and real and really a bit of a brat. I have friends I love very much, call them brother and recognize the deep bond of our friendship. But with Isaaco he acts and therefore I act like we have been fighting for the last cookie for lifetimes. It would have been best to have been Issaco’s little brother because then he would have been the protector perhaps the bully to some degree but his heart is so big I think he would have made the perfect big brother. He would have made me tough and at the same time teach me of deep love, and I know he would have supported me in anything jealousy not an option, in fact he would have been the sort of brother that if I did not pursue my dreams he would beat my ass. But if I failed he would laugh and cry and we would go have Gelato. The other thing I know for sure is there would not be any bullies picking on me in the neighborhood, Isaaco is one of the toughest little fuckers I have ever met. I am going to take him to Thai boxing school with me not a tourist trap of a school the real thing where the only language spoken is Thai and foot to face. I think this might be the only place Isaaco will meet his match. I think it is important for every man to meet his match, at least once in every area in his life, teaches humility, limits and respect. So Isaaco pack your bags, “Visto che andiamo in Thailandia vedo che prendi un calcio nel sedere”. After a few hours of additional packing and playing around with Isaaco, I decided I could not go the long haul so went to bed to lay down for just a few hours, I even left my boots on, my bags packed and loaded in the truck and I dressed in my travel clothes. 501’s, engineer boots, Sharkskin belt, black t-shirt velvet jacket, my head with only three weeks growth, my mala beads given to me by my sister Jennifer. ( Thank you Jenny I look forward to sharing with you the experiences that opened up to me as a result of wearing the beads you lent me to help me heal, thank you, I also look forward to returning them to you, soon.) After 5 or 10 minutes I kicked off my boots and fell fast asleep rare for me but indeed fast asleep. I set the alarm and double checked it. The same alarm I have been using or Debbie has been using for years. I do not use the alarm much I wake naturally sleeping is my problem not waking up, other than this morning. My little two hours shut eye turned into a three and a half hour nap, before I know it I am sitting straight up in bed staring at the clock 6:30. I have 60min. till take off the airport is a 20 minute drive without traffic, I seek out Isaaco he is curled up in the corner of the downstairs office on the floor, I do not even think about this I just start kicking him and yelling Isaaco move, move, move, as if we were on a military alert under attack. I think many people would have just sat down and cried and began calling the airline, not me my bags are locked and loaded, we’re going to the fucking airport. Once along the way, Isaaco spoke out regarding my driving and to think, this from an Italian….. I looked at him and told him if he wanted to go to the airport with me that he would have to keep quiet. I don’t think I put it quite these terms but I got my point across. The traffic was moderate but I was able to average 90 most of the way. We pull up to the curb Isaaco and I jump out, of the truck, Isaaco to unload the bags, Guitar, skies, camera, recording gear, and stuff, 8 bags in all. I go to the skycap give him 100 bucks and tell him “get me on that fucking plane.” The whole sky cap crew jumps in line to help and together they made it happen, and had fun doing so, I made the plane. Standing at my seat arranging my gear I hear the flight attendants speaking Italian, I catch myself in surprise I think I am about to cry, choke up, sob? I don’t think so but I am a touch emotional, I am going to Venice.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
I Bought Her A Ticket
I bought her a ticket.
Chuck was one of my guiding angels, I met him at a time of great insecurity. He was a business teacher at the college I attended as an adult after my separation from Joanne the mother of my children. I had not gone to school I dropped out of high school and always felt an emptiness as a result. After Joanne and I split it was without hesitation that I enrolled in the university. I had to start at the beginning taking entry level math and English to bring myself up to college levels. This was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life. Surrendering my ego sitting in a classroom of people some of whom young enough to be my child. I am not a quick learner I have to work extra hard to keep up with the class. This was not true once I was able to get into the business track at my school. Here I found a home, the subject matter was easy for me to understand and I was able to excel and even at times stay far ahead of my class. Chuck taught entrepreneurship it was a three semester course. In which time we were to develop one business plan, I developed three. Chuck and I became friends, he took me under his wing. We spent many hours out of class discussing his and my favorite subject, business. He inspired me and was one of the great teachers and mentors I have met on my journey. I gained confidence and knowledge that would serve me the rest of my life. Chuck used to like to tell a story, I can not count the times I heard him tell the story of Hymie, I never tired of hearing the story he had so much fun in it’s delivery and I loved him so much it gave me great joy to see him light up in his amusement of the moral of the Story of Hymie. Hymie was a religious man, and as such he would pray to god daily. On his knees day after day Hymie would tell the Lord of his troubles and ask God to help him win the lottery as this would solve all his problems. His mother was sick she needed medical care. His children were accepted into colleges he could not afford. His wife needed a larger house. Day after day Hymie would repeat his process of asking God to intervene in his destiny and help him win the lottery. Until one day God could no longer stand it and he spoke to Hymie, he parted the clouds and reached down taking Hymies head in his hands looking him squarely in the eyes he said, HYMIE YOU HAVE GOT TO BY A TICKET! From the first day I heard this story I have bought a lottery ticket every day there was a lottery available. Whether I am traveling or not I always seek out the lottery game. It is my way of saying to God that I am open to all possibilities and that I believe in the magic of the universe. Today I stopped into the convenience store close to my house to buy my girl a requested ice cream cone. Debbie loves her Ice Cream. As I entered the store the clerk who I have not seen in over three months almost jumped with excitement seeing me walk through the door. She had missed me and wanted to show me pictures of her new baby, she had been on the look out for my return, this made me feel great. Until now there has really been no fanfare upon my return, few of my friends calling me and less taking the time and effort to see me before I leave again, this has left me a bit sad not that big a deal but admittedly I was flattered that this young woman and I had built strong enough relationship that she missed me to such a degree, that her life would not be complete until she had the opportunity to show me the pictures of her pride and joy. Her name is Jill and she is familiar with my routine. I no sooner walk into the store before she begins to pull my three tickets, separate, and quick picks, this is important to me. Whenever I buy a ticket I ask the seller where they are going to go when I when and I buy them a first class ticket to the destination of their choice. I write on the ticket their name and their dream, taking on a partner in karma. Jill has never changed her mind in all the years I have been buying tickets from her, she wants to go to Jamaica. I realize that I will have to buy her 4 tickets so she can take the whole family and when the day comes I will gladly do so. Today was different, today I bought 4 tickets. Three for me and one for her. As Ruth says the Lord loves an optimist. I bought her a ticket I hope she wins. Jill when you win I want a ticket to Burma, no need for first class, could be no need for a round trip.
Chuck was one of my guiding angels, I met him at a time of great insecurity. He was a business teacher at the college I attended as an adult after my separation from Joanne the mother of my children. I had not gone to school I dropped out of high school and always felt an emptiness as a result. After Joanne and I split it was without hesitation that I enrolled in the university. I had to start at the beginning taking entry level math and English to bring myself up to college levels. This was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life. Surrendering my ego sitting in a classroom of people some of whom young enough to be my child. I am not a quick learner I have to work extra hard to keep up with the class. This was not true once I was able to get into the business track at my school. Here I found a home, the subject matter was easy for me to understand and I was able to excel and even at times stay far ahead of my class. Chuck taught entrepreneurship it was a three semester course. In which time we were to develop one business plan, I developed three. Chuck and I became friends, he took me under his wing. We spent many hours out of class discussing his and my favorite subject, business. He inspired me and was one of the great teachers and mentors I have met on my journey. I gained confidence and knowledge that would serve me the rest of my life. Chuck used to like to tell a story, I can not count the times I heard him tell the story of Hymie, I never tired of hearing the story he had so much fun in it’s delivery and I loved him so much it gave me great joy to see him light up in his amusement of the moral of the Story of Hymie. Hymie was a religious man, and as such he would pray to god daily. On his knees day after day Hymie would tell the Lord of his troubles and ask God to help him win the lottery as this would solve all his problems. His mother was sick she needed medical care. His children were accepted into colleges he could not afford. His wife needed a larger house. Day after day Hymie would repeat his process of asking God to intervene in his destiny and help him win the lottery. Until one day God could no longer stand it and he spoke to Hymie, he parted the clouds and reached down taking Hymies head in his hands looking him squarely in the eyes he said, HYMIE YOU HAVE GOT TO BY A TICKET! From the first day I heard this story I have bought a lottery ticket every day there was a lottery available. Whether I am traveling or not I always seek out the lottery game. It is my way of saying to God that I am open to all possibilities and that I believe in the magic of the universe. Today I stopped into the convenience store close to my house to buy my girl a requested ice cream cone. Debbie loves her Ice Cream. As I entered the store the clerk who I have not seen in over three months almost jumped with excitement seeing me walk through the door. She had missed me and wanted to show me pictures of her new baby, she had been on the look out for my return, this made me feel great. Until now there has really been no fanfare upon my return, few of my friends calling me and less taking the time and effort to see me before I leave again, this has left me a bit sad not that big a deal but admittedly I was flattered that this young woman and I had built strong enough relationship that she missed me to such a degree, that her life would not be complete until she had the opportunity to show me the pictures of her pride and joy. Her name is Jill and she is familiar with my routine. I no sooner walk into the store before she begins to pull my three tickets, separate, and quick picks, this is important to me. Whenever I buy a ticket I ask the seller where they are going to go when I when and I buy them a first class ticket to the destination of their choice. I write on the ticket their name and their dream, taking on a partner in karma. Jill has never changed her mind in all the years I have been buying tickets from her, she wants to go to Jamaica. I realize that I will have to buy her 4 tickets so she can take the whole family and when the day comes I will gladly do so. Today was different, today I bought 4 tickets. Three for me and one for her. As Ruth says the Lord loves an optimist. I bought her a ticket I hope she wins. Jill when you win I want a ticket to Burma, no need for first class, could be no need for a round trip.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
The Richest Man On Earth
My first day in the office for close to six weeks. It felt good to walk into the space.
Memories of building the office clear in my mind, a sense of pride fills my spirit remembering my dream my vision. Seeing it real and alive before me, I am solid;
happy spirits fills my heart and makes me smile. I have missed everyone, hugs and welcome homes and pictures taken to send to my far away friends to give then a glimpse into Jeff’s world. I have spent many years here and the fruits of my labor are blooming I can smell new growth not like a flower in the spring but sweet none the less. Fresh life growing on the old making the whole new. Everyone is excited to be apart of the process, embracing the tasks at hand with commitment and keen eyes and enthusiasm. I am lucky to have attracted such a great team. I feel their love and I believe they feel mine. Nia is like a family to me. Debbie and Carlos and the entire staff I have deep feelings for. This extends to the opportunity to support work I believe in. Not just on an intellectual level but in my heart and my spirit, I believe that Nia is not only changing the world but it does so in such a positive and elegant way. It a blessing to be an architect to Debbie and Carlos dream and to support the work that they do.
Beyond that I have the opportunity to extend my heart and my caring to the Nia teachers around the world. They are the best group of people I know. Over the years I have built many relationships and friendships within the Nia family of teachers. I find it tremendously rewarding to witness them all living their dream, and providing support for them doing so.
I have been working for Nia 11 years, fulltime for 10. This has been a significant part of my life, I spent most of my forties here, my children grew up during these years. Nia has grown up as well. From an office in Debbie’s garage with two employees, 250 teachers and Debbie and Carlos teaching classes at Body Moves. Now we own our own space have a full staff of aligned people and thousands of teachers around the world. These have been good years. I have grown and watched others grow, doing my best to support all of them in their process sometimes failing and sometimes not. With growth can come growing pains, I never seem to chose the easy path, whether on my bike, my skies, my life. Nia has been no different, the commitment to growth both personally and professionally and the devotion to the teachers and our commitment to truth has provided for some rocky times. However, I am blessed to have been presented this opportunity to walk through life and all it brings with these people of Nia.
Traveling is for me is an opportunity to go deep into self and ground and reflect. There seems no place I can go where I do not think “ I could live here.” I see the beauty in all
And therefore can adapt and find blessing anywhere I go. This gives me a secure place to
Move through life without the seed of wonder and regret. I live where I live and I do what I do completely of choice. I am free of the bondage of insecurity. This is of the riches I bring home to my loved ones; the knowledge that I am here because this is what I love and where I want to be. There is no doubt.
It feels good to walk into and through my world with a clear mind and an open heart.
I am here for a short while three days of meetings and two to pack and then I am off to Venice until the end of January. Each time I leave and everyday I am away I feel less so.
Learning how the stay connected has been apart of my work as I journey, I am getting better at it all the time. Barry has been a big help supporting me and teaching me how to be a CEO in the modern age of the internet as well has helping me improve in the fine art of communication. Barry and I have some similar dynamics of our past, he has been through much of what I have been experiencing, most particularly the recent years, of radical growth, in business and in relationships. He has not only been a tremendous support for me he has become a close and trusted friend. Thank you Barry. Who would know?
The riches of life are varied but of them I hold relationships with people most dear.
In this way my life, my travels and Nia have made me the richest man on earth.
Memories of building the office clear in my mind, a sense of pride fills my spirit remembering my dream my vision. Seeing it real and alive before me, I am solid;
happy spirits fills my heart and makes me smile. I have missed everyone, hugs and welcome homes and pictures taken to send to my far away friends to give then a glimpse into Jeff’s world. I have spent many years here and the fruits of my labor are blooming I can smell new growth not like a flower in the spring but sweet none the less. Fresh life growing on the old making the whole new. Everyone is excited to be apart of the process, embracing the tasks at hand with commitment and keen eyes and enthusiasm. I am lucky to have attracted such a great team. I feel their love and I believe they feel mine. Nia is like a family to me. Debbie and Carlos and the entire staff I have deep feelings for. This extends to the opportunity to support work I believe in. Not just on an intellectual level but in my heart and my spirit, I believe that Nia is not only changing the world but it does so in such a positive and elegant way. It a blessing to be an architect to Debbie and Carlos dream and to support the work that they do.
Beyond that I have the opportunity to extend my heart and my caring to the Nia teachers around the world. They are the best group of people I know. Over the years I have built many relationships and friendships within the Nia family of teachers. I find it tremendously rewarding to witness them all living their dream, and providing support for them doing so.
I have been working for Nia 11 years, fulltime for 10. This has been a significant part of my life, I spent most of my forties here, my children grew up during these years. Nia has grown up as well. From an office in Debbie’s garage with two employees, 250 teachers and Debbie and Carlos teaching classes at Body Moves. Now we own our own space have a full staff of aligned people and thousands of teachers around the world. These have been good years. I have grown and watched others grow, doing my best to support all of them in their process sometimes failing and sometimes not. With growth can come growing pains, I never seem to chose the easy path, whether on my bike, my skies, my life. Nia has been no different, the commitment to growth both personally and professionally and the devotion to the teachers and our commitment to truth has provided for some rocky times. However, I am blessed to have been presented this opportunity to walk through life and all it brings with these people of Nia.
Traveling is for me is an opportunity to go deep into self and ground and reflect. There seems no place I can go where I do not think “ I could live here.” I see the beauty in all
And therefore can adapt and find blessing anywhere I go. This gives me a secure place to
Move through life without the seed of wonder and regret. I live where I live and I do what I do completely of choice. I am free of the bondage of insecurity. This is of the riches I bring home to my loved ones; the knowledge that I am here because this is what I love and where I want to be. There is no doubt.
It feels good to walk into and through my world with a clear mind and an open heart.
I am here for a short while three days of meetings and two to pack and then I am off to Venice until the end of January. Each time I leave and everyday I am away I feel less so.
Learning how the stay connected has been apart of my work as I journey, I am getting better at it all the time. Barry has been a big help supporting me and teaching me how to be a CEO in the modern age of the internet as well has helping me improve in the fine art of communication. Barry and I have some similar dynamics of our past, he has been through much of what I have been experiencing, most particularly the recent years, of radical growth, in business and in relationships. He has not only been a tremendous support for me he has become a close and trusted friend. Thank you Barry. Who would know?
The riches of life are varied but of them I hold relationships with people most dear.
In this way my life, my travels and Nia have made me the richest man on earth.
Monday, November 5, 2007
The Lord Loves An Optimist
Back In Portland. I am here for 7 days, It is good to be sleeping in my own bed seeing Debbie and Maggie. Isaac and Liz came over to welcome me home. It was great to see good friends. Philip called me the minute I woke up to welcome me. Phillip was really great to me while I was on the road, he sent me regular emails, I love the connection. I went to see Philip/Axel play rugby. It was a beautiful fall day the sun shinning the leaves what is left of them are changing colors the chill in the air feels good. It think it will be a good ski season this year. I will miss half the season but will be back for some good northwest spring skiing. Philips game was at a park that was close to the house where both my children Monica and Colin were born. This brought back many memories from the moments of their conceptions to the life we had and the place of my spirit. We were so in love. Life was tough there was very little work for carpenters so income was very weak. This always had me in a state of frustration and fear. How would I build a life for my family, what I was doing was not going to be enough. I had gotten a late start, spending too many years in adolescent behavior, Drugs, dreams, remorse, and anger.
I was now ready to settle down and be responsible but I had to start at the beginning as we all do there is no easy street for me or most. I was not able to relax with this reality.
I knew I felt I had wasted many years and now I was feeling the pain.
Ruth lived behind us. She was 82 years old. She told me that she was 80 but I always felt that she was 82. We met at the back fence during the spring of 83’. We were doing yard work Ruth was planting bulbs for the season and I cutting the first round of grass.
We hit it off from the start and quickly became friends. Ruth spent a fair amount of time at our kitchen table and I would help her around her house with the occasional odd job.
She had lived in her house her whole life, her parents died before she moved out on her own and she just stayed. When she married her husband moved into the house and this is where they stayed. Raising their family of one boy and one girl. Ruth was alone now her children rarely visited and she had few friends, we became her extended family. She supported us emotionally and was at our side when both the children were born. Ruth was privy to many of the family conversations we would have. During those years these conversations would often revolve around my fears and frustrations. Joanne my wife at the time was always positive and supportive. She was happy with a simple life and never complained or suggested that I was not providing for my family she knew I was a hard worker and she supported me in all my dreams of a better life. Every day I had a new idea of how we could break out of the hand to mouth existence. I would start a construction company, write a hit song, become a salesman (I only needed the right product.) Ruth would sit quietly she was never a big talker she was a simple woman. I was surprised one time when I was over at her house to do some odd job to see her bedroom. She slept in a bed that was so small and old it looked as if it was the bed she had as a child, I believe it was. The only decorations in her house were the needlepoint masterpieces she had created blankets, throws, and napkins. And of course there was her garden. Ruth loved her garden and in particular her flowers, we were very fortunate in that we lived right behind her and could see Ruth’s flowers from our kitchen window. All summer our backyard activities were decorated with the fruits of Ruth’s love of flowers. I loved her very much. After we moved away we slowly lost touch with Ruth. After Joanne and I split up we stopped seeing each other I was so lost in my own pain I neglected my friendship with Ruth, I regret this. I was never called to be informed of Ruth’s death but one day in 1993 I had a pause and Ruth flashed through my spirit, at that moment I felt she had passed I smiled for her and cried for me. Ruth changed my life, not just in our friendship as most friendships do but profoundly. One day as we were sitting having coffee at our kitchen table, Joanne was pregnant with Monica and I was unemployed. I was lost in fear and my conversation was obsessive speaking of my frustration that I could not seem to break out of the circle I was in. Ruth leaned forward putting my hand in hers, she looked me square in the eyes and said “ Jeff you have nothing to worry about please relax everything will always work out for you just be patient” I said “Ruth how can you be so sure” She replied” Jeff if there is anything I have learned I my life it is that the Lord Loves an Optimist, and Jeff if you are anything you an optimist this is apart of your spirit it will never change” I said” Ruth how can you say this after so much time listening to me complain about my fears” “ Jeff I see you and I know you and this I know you will always be ok because the Lord loves an optimist simple and true, this is you.”
I am sorry I never had the opportunity to share with Ruth the impact her truth had on my life for it was many years before I could truly see what she meant. But now 24 years later I get it and you know she was right everything has always worked out for me. Not always as I expected but regardless life is good and I am blessed in more ways that I can imagine or measure. Thank you Ruth for your wisdom and Thank you God for Ruth, yet another angel sent to help guide me on my path to here now.
I was now ready to settle down and be responsible but I had to start at the beginning as we all do there is no easy street for me or most. I was not able to relax with this reality.
I knew I felt I had wasted many years and now I was feeling the pain.
Ruth lived behind us. She was 82 years old. She told me that she was 80 but I always felt that she was 82. We met at the back fence during the spring of 83’. We were doing yard work Ruth was planting bulbs for the season and I cutting the first round of grass.
We hit it off from the start and quickly became friends. Ruth spent a fair amount of time at our kitchen table and I would help her around her house with the occasional odd job.
She had lived in her house her whole life, her parents died before she moved out on her own and she just stayed. When she married her husband moved into the house and this is where they stayed. Raising their family of one boy and one girl. Ruth was alone now her children rarely visited and she had few friends, we became her extended family. She supported us emotionally and was at our side when both the children were born. Ruth was privy to many of the family conversations we would have. During those years these conversations would often revolve around my fears and frustrations. Joanne my wife at the time was always positive and supportive. She was happy with a simple life and never complained or suggested that I was not providing for my family she knew I was a hard worker and she supported me in all my dreams of a better life. Every day I had a new idea of how we could break out of the hand to mouth existence. I would start a construction company, write a hit song, become a salesman (I only needed the right product.) Ruth would sit quietly she was never a big talker she was a simple woman. I was surprised one time when I was over at her house to do some odd job to see her bedroom. She slept in a bed that was so small and old it looked as if it was the bed she had as a child, I believe it was. The only decorations in her house were the needlepoint masterpieces she had created blankets, throws, and napkins. And of course there was her garden. Ruth loved her garden and in particular her flowers, we were very fortunate in that we lived right behind her and could see Ruth’s flowers from our kitchen window. All summer our backyard activities were decorated with the fruits of Ruth’s love of flowers. I loved her very much. After we moved away we slowly lost touch with Ruth. After Joanne and I split up we stopped seeing each other I was so lost in my own pain I neglected my friendship with Ruth, I regret this. I was never called to be informed of Ruth’s death but one day in 1993 I had a pause and Ruth flashed through my spirit, at that moment I felt she had passed I smiled for her and cried for me. Ruth changed my life, not just in our friendship as most friendships do but profoundly. One day as we were sitting having coffee at our kitchen table, Joanne was pregnant with Monica and I was unemployed. I was lost in fear and my conversation was obsessive speaking of my frustration that I could not seem to break out of the circle I was in. Ruth leaned forward putting my hand in hers, she looked me square in the eyes and said “ Jeff you have nothing to worry about please relax everything will always work out for you just be patient” I said “Ruth how can you be so sure” She replied” Jeff if there is anything I have learned I my life it is that the Lord Loves an Optimist, and Jeff if you are anything you an optimist this is apart of your spirit it will never change” I said” Ruth how can you say this after so much time listening to me complain about my fears” “ Jeff I see you and I know you and this I know you will always be ok because the Lord loves an optimist simple and true, this is you.”
I am sorry I never had the opportunity to share with Ruth the impact her truth had on my life for it was many years before I could truly see what she meant. But now 24 years later I get it and you know she was right everything has always worked out for me. Not always as I expected but regardless life is good and I am blessed in more ways that I can imagine or measure. Thank you Ruth for your wisdom and Thank you God for Ruth, yet another angel sent to help guide me on my path to here now.
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