Great Musical Journeys

There are these train tracks up the hill from the cabin here on the lake, and every once in a while they carry a train along, which always signals its triumphant return with a mighty whistle so all can hear, especially those safe in their beds at three in the morning.

I have been coming here since before I knew I was coming here.

A few months ago I was sitting at this card table with great humans from different parts of the life I am fortunate to experience.  There must have been eight or nine of us at the time, although at least half had passed out by the end of the night, when a few of us were left at the table.  I remember laughing for hours on end, and laughing much harder than I had for an entire year.  That is the greatest sacrifice of long journeys: although you still laugh, you do not laugh nearly as hard.

When we had to sleep, one of my good friends said he didn’t need a bed or a spot on the floor.  He said he would just sleep in his car and mentioned something about "training" himself.  Sometimes I think things are about me too much, and sometimes I don’t realize they are about me when they clearly are, and sometimes I’m right on the money.  I wasn’t sure if his was a remark on something I had written months earlier when I alluded to “Westley” from The Princess Bride as an explanation for my life technique the past few years.  I say explanation and not inspiration because it’s not like I watched the movie and immediately bought a ticket to India so I could learn how to sleep in my car and climb a hill or three pretending to be a fictional action hero.  I saw it when I was a kid and then came upon the book while couch surfing in Montana in a house full of musicians, and since I had never read it, I bought it in California.  When I was writing that piece, he seemed like a good metaphor to represent a human developing overall strength and power by testing and developing one's self in diverse and perhaps unusual ways.  After all, every human's array of experiences is a form of training for being able to better handle what comes next.  Ever seen Karate Kid?  I actually hadn't seen it until I moved to California, and it was perfect.  Who would have thought that painting a fence would teach him to win his battle?

Anyway, the reason I thought he was alluding to something I had written, perhaps with praise, perhaps as a slight jab, was that he had made another remark earlier that also made me think he had read my writing.  I don’t remember the context, but he said jokingly, “Right, since the whole world is all ‘Sanford’ and ‘England.’”  I'm glad he said that, because I needed to hear it.  I did write about England mastering the ways of water and how their language influences the whole world, and all sorts of stuff about my family and the Sanford’s being from England.  It wasn’t meant to sound jingoistic or nationalistic.  English people are beautiful and annoying, as are their descendants, such as me.  I don’t mean to put anyone else down when I’m expressing my awe at the poetry I notice.  Years of searching and seeking means lots of delving into your roots, and obviously not all people share those roots.  I don’t think that matters though.  I look everywhere for inspiration and connection.  I am often inspired by people from seemingly completely different backgrounds simply because they are humans, and that’s enough in common for me.

Recently my biggest inspiration has been the Lapita and Polynesian people of the Pacific islands.  A few weeks ago we read about them in class in our Reading Explorer book.  The chapter was "Amazing Voyage," which I liked because I was about to drive across the country again.  The Lapita and Polynesians explored vast distances of the Pacific Ocean with flimsy little canoes, barely any knowledge of what they were looking for or how to get there, and anything but a smart phone for navigation.  The book compared their journey to man reaching the moon.  To do what they did working with what they had for the reasons that they had is an accomplishment unparalleled in human history.  And what was their reason?  Food?  Escape from oppression?  Climate change?  Not at all.  They simply wanted to see what was beyond the horizon.  What's over there?  Let's go see!  That's all it took for them to get going, and that's all it took for me, although my journey was much more comfy (despite sleeping in the driver's seat for a week).

These heroes came to mind as I paddled and floated in a canoe on the open waves of this body of water I love so much, and before that moon in the sky which is always beautiful, bathing the autumn leaves in a mysterious new light.  Beauty inspires me to undertake some very strange voyages.  Once I planned a whole journey to the pyramids in Mexico because they were named the sun and the moon, and you can stand on top like in El Viaje Misterioso de Nuestra Jomer.  Before that I arrived at the pyramids in Egypt during a journey I didn’t even realize would last so long or take me so far.  Another time I was on a journey I had mostly planned, and was toward the end, and hiking in the forest when I saw a sign for a mountain named Pyramid Peak, so I climbed it.  And I didn’t make it the first time on that unprepared whim, so I planned and made it the second time around.  A week ago I was at Pyramid Lake in Nevada simply because it was on the way.  I basically decided to add it to the beginning of the journey that same day.  Now I can't imagine not having gone to any of those places.  Was I simply riding the train on the tracks?  Either way, the ride has trained me in ways I am still realizing.

If you keep your eyes and ears open, you realize the world will offer you ways to live and spread joy.

Today the world offered me a lake, a canoe, an iPod, stellar headphones, and about ten songs during three separate “voyages” within a few hundred feet of shore that wouldn’t impress any Lapita adventurers.  I would list all of the songs, but sometimes other people don’t care about your roots and your joys, because everything meets people the way they feel life.  Even so, sharing is fun.  The only song I listened to every time I rode the waves was “Brand New Day” by Hiromi.  Of all the music the world provided for me during this four-year journey, I especially love that one.  What a gift to humanity.  The song goes well everywhere I go, but especially with the sunlight and moonlight sparkling on the waves, which were very large and rough and enjoyable.

Speaking of new days, I will be in New York City this Wednesday, after I say hello to my parents.  Of all the old people who have told me to do stuff, I especially love them.  Although I also love their parents, who are not here to hear me say that.  I wonder what the Irish Sullivan’s would think of me praising the English Sanford’s?  Or the Protestant Tupper’s thoughts about me praising the Catholic Sullivan’s?  I don’t think they would say anything, because they were too busy being in love with each other.

Which reminds me, I am very seriously writing a book in time for the winter holidays, because you are a soulful symphony who makes me very happy to be, and it's about time I completed this story for you and for me.