Perfect People and Places

Four years ago I was in my favorite place in the world: Lake Champlain, New York.  I was with several of my favorite people in the world too.  I was celebrating the renovation of my family’s cabin with six of my friends from college, one friend from my hometown of Cambridge and one friend from my original home on Long Island.  I was honored that they had all made the trip all the way upstate from places scattered around New York State.  We had a fire on the beach, played cards, told stories, canoed during the day and at night, kayaked to a nearby island, and laughed a lot.  I even went swimming in the frigid waters even though it was still June.  I lasted about five minutes before my body started to go numb, but it was worth it.

The first night I read all of my friends a story I had written about the new scar on my arm that I had gotten earlier that week when I got stranded at Bonnaroo, and they mostly agreed it was a good tale.  One of my friends, Chris (the doctor), told me that you could tell I was only a step away from really having the craft down.  I was only 25 then.  I hope I’ve made some progress since.

Last year I sacrificed a summer at the lake with my friends, an annual tradition for eleven years in a row.  We had a big party up there in May before I left, and after that I had a summer I’ll never forget and never regret.  Even so, it’s been over a year since I’ve made a pilgrimage to my personal mecca.

I’m visiting New York State this summer, and that will help me decide which coast I belong on.  Crossroads are never easy.  I’ve already talked with my boss, and they said I can take as many as two weeks as long as I give notice and get a substitute.  Then again, I have almost no money right now, which is my own fault, and I won’t get paid during my time off, so we’ll see what the situation is by then.  I’m really going to have to hustle some extra employment while simultaneously writing this novel, so we’ll see what happens.  My will is strong.  I’m moving to a cheaper place beginning next month, although I haven’t still quite pinned that down yet.  I have a meeting on Monday to check out a place in Oakland for a one-month sublet.  We will see eventually…

It’s really hard to believe that I haven’t seen my parents or many of my best friends in over thirteen months, but I chose it.  Many of my students haven’t been home for three years, so I should quit moping about it, suck it up and figure out a way to get back home.

Today we had a picnic in Golden Gate Park.  We played Apples to Apples and had a great time.  We were right next to Lincoln Way.  That book Lincoln: The Writer by Fred Kaplan said:

He did what great writers do: create useful texts from which readers can derive inspiration, literary pleasure, and universalizing direction.

Maybe if I finish this book and sell it I can actually get paid for my passion and be with all of you who I love so much a little earlier than planned…

A man can dream…

Northern California philosopher, Alan Watts, help me out here!

One should not be ashamed of wishful thinking, for this is just what all inventive and creative people do.  They are dreamers, and they find ways of realizing their dreams because they wish and dream effectively.  That is to say, their wishful thinking is not vague; their desires are imagined so precisely and specifically that they can very often be carried out.  The trouble with many religions, accused of wishful thinking, is that they are not wishful enough.  They show a deplorable lack of imagination and of adventure in trying to find out what it is that one really wants.  I cannot conceive of any better way of trying to understand myself, or human nature in general, than a thorough exploration of my desires, making them as specific as possible, and then asking myself whether that is actually what I want. 

(The Art of Godmanship 35)

Hmm… excellent point.  I think I’ll do that.  You can too.

Thank you, Al.