I was on the outskirts of Philadelphia so next day early a commuter bus took me into the north of town.
There I decides to walk to my fiends house in the west, and what a walk it was.
Rows upon rows of dilapidated homes, overgrown and collapsing, poverty was rife, mounds of trash covered abandoned lots. It was a true ghetto, and yet, I did not feel unsafe. The cops in a passing patrol car gave me odd looks as they passed. Either they thought I was a lost tourist, looking for drugs or committing some kind of obscure crime. Why? Well, guys with my skin color just don't venture that far into the Ghetto. In the 3 hours that I walked there, I saw no more than 5 white guys, most of whom were Latino. It was a real trip, but I was also happy to arrive to the welcoming porch of Rachel's house. Soon we met, after 12 good years, and I met her friends and family, now including two of her own kids.I was on the journey though, so after a day of rest I walked south, to the great black road, and put out my thumb again.
Some people stopped, mostly to give me money. Hitchhiking is seen as a form of begging here, only for the impoverished, not something any sane person would do. And so I waited.........
Thinking of Sarah, Thinking of what I wanted, What I felt was right.
I was definitively at a good spot, but was this really what I wanted?
Oh America, land that rules the world. Yet, they cannot even manage the dirt and poverty in their own country. Pinnacles of riches border on places of utter decay. Place of extremes, you keep challenging me. Why do I keep hanging on to those plans that I even then unwillingly devised, when I yet knew nothing of the situation here?
Oh it's different than I thought it would be, at that I was right.
REBIRTH. I cannot waste one day........What am I doing here?.........Life is precious.........This is the time to learn into something......
Sun set after 8 hours of hitching without success. Koan's Eddur scrolls and Asura in my hears, smoothing out the ride.
I'm Going back to Philadelphia
Some days more we spent hanging out, and because they are Jewish, when Friday came, they invited me to their Sabbath meal. Candles were lit, bread broken and a cup of sweet wine passed around, and than we all partook in a bonanza of delicacies both local and foreign. Happy I could contribute some of the Amish butter I had bought that day at the farmers market, where they still sell their country goods in traditional costume, although now sometimes augmented by a whirl of high tech fluorescence.Doubt about my decision to leave the road was heavy upon me though, but I still felt I had to go on.
I cannot explain it.
Rarely have I heard God's voice within me so clearly.
Days of doubt and endless reasoning,
but no matter the arguments it did not feel right,
to leave her.
Only returning gave peace.
I can't believe I'm doing this! Where the hell was I going?!
So many thoughts, but the heart knew all along.
So at last minute, at the bus station I changed my ticket, and returned to NYC, instead of continuing south to DC. and than beyond on a craigslist ride to distant Colorado. Instead, I soon found myself rolling back into the familiar sights of Manhattan downtown, now bathing in a passionate orange glow of the last rays of sun, gosh, it is beautiful. Odd reflections of the mirroring facades bejeweled the late blue sky and soon we were engulfed in the broiling flow of sparkling traffic winding it's way down to Chinatown. I do like this city, especially Manhattan. The energy is just so high here. And the buildings, ever startling. The lofty heights of Park av. 432 always keeping a cool watch on you wherever you walk. "Look, there she is again, and she never stops to amaze me."
All my plans,
just useless obstructions.
All these thoughts,
but a veil to the mind.
The true Tao
is known through the Heart.
It can be denied,
but not avoided.
Going against the Tao,
One gets to know the Tao.
I know why this city attracts such a staggering amount of homeless people. There is just so much free food flying around, everywhere. One needs not go hungry here, even with a flat pocket. Scavengers tend to be obese there, and can be real picky choosers, what a strange form of poverty. I made for Central Park, down to the rocks and strawberry fields, and there, found my resting place under a nice tree. I was not alone though, and several roaming flocks of raccoons passed by curiously sniffing in the city gloom. Awakening to chattering gray squirrels and birders, binoculars and all, I felt not even slightly out of place. Oh whatta town. If one cannot find it here, than perhaps nowhere. A lot of fatboys around in the buzzing AM. streets, as steam rises up from roadside vents from a hidden warm world deep down below.Yes, I came back. And it was good. So many moments I would not have wanted to miss. Endlessly floating on her inner ocean, and getting to know here in a different way. I was welcomed back at the farm like family, and now had a chance to let our relation come into maturity. Much more stable it felt now, less dramatic. And we spoke a lot. By now Summer had gone south without me though and a real robust autumn weather made itself known. There was storms and cold rain, for days, and night frosts had also made their appearance. Trees in our valley obnoxiously refused to turn their leaves apart from one bright red ivy bush up in a tree. All around us though, the foliage was starting to turn a gorgeous yellow gold with streaks of red copper, and some had already shed a bunch of leaves.
This fall stuff did not much agree with me, and my bare sandled feet turned numb and red while harvesting beets or carrots in the early mornings, dew heavy upon the eaves.
Sarah and I went through a lot of processing, so that after another 10 days, things where nowhere near what they were when I had left her, the first time.
Because yes, there came a second.
When I went back to the farm, I had surrendered my faith to the will of the universe, and made no plans beyond return. Now however, we both seemed to feel that time was ripe for me to move, without drama, and so much richer than before. Now I feel I have gained a sister, a friend, a daughter, a teacher and lover, that will outlast the time we spent there at Great Song Farm.
The intention that had been there before though, to cross the continent, had been much weakened, and I was now much more open to just going with the flow, without having to achieve anything. To get anywhere special.
I am just a floater, in the Palm of God's hand.
Back to New York than, for the 3rd time, that city, that crazy city, bound for Roanoke.
Yet, it was not to be, not as I had imagined though. The bus I wanted to take was sold out, so I turned, and rode to DC. Where I spent the night right off the National Mall, at a stones throw of the much contested white house, and all that other famous stuff. Sleeping outside in capitals seems to be becoming a real hobby of mine, so far Stockholm, Copenhagen, Paris, Vienna, New York (not really a capital of course, but hey!) and DC top the list.
Looking back from where I am now, Asheville North Carolina, the trip here actually went pretty smoothly. But at the time, it seemed like a real big deal. first a ride by a Mexican guy wondering what the hell I thought I was doing hitchhiking in the US, (this seems a recurring theme, I even had a 4 year old girl ask me yesterday why I didn't have a car!) Why I didn't take the bus etc. etc. Than, a Republican with a car full of guns, on his way to a hunting trip, trying to explain me why the candidate for their Party (I will not use his name) was at the same time very stupid, but also clever. Just before he dropped me in Roanoke, we drove into the outer rain skirts of hurricane Mathew, which meant constant drizzle for the next 24 hours. Once again, I waited...... and waited..... and promised myself that this was the last time I would ever make a hitchhiking trip in the USA. So when i was getting pretty wet and had my fill of; "nope, Going North".
I retreated to the porch of an abandoned house nearby, and camped there for the night.
At daybreak, the drizzle was still there, but the gods were good, and I soon found myself in the comfortable surroundings of a dry car, driven by a friendly dready, headed directly for Asheville.
The clouds parted as soon as we turned west, all going counter clockwise and he dropped me just a few hundred yards away from my destination, and I felt truly blessed once again.
So it was that I stepped into the life of Liz. A bright red haired woman I knew from my old wwoofing days back at the Hobbitstee in Holland. We met a a friend's tiny house and soon more people started to show up. We were preparing for a double birthday party that night at Liz's boyfriend's house, and so cake had to happen. It took hours before we left the door, the proud creators of a double layered, lemon custard cake with white and purple icing.
The party seemed nice enough. Most of the guests were dancers, so Contra dancing was a real thing.
There was old fashioned punch and cocktails and later on we all moved to the Jacuzzi in the garden, with a view of the city lights beyond the hills.
Things went awry though that night, which meant that the morning was filled with heartbreak and despair for my friend Liz. Trying to consolidate her has not been easy, even though we went on a few walks in the woods of the lovely hills that surround all of Asheville. This is a truely hip town, and our first cafe we went to had me wondering if there is anything but gorgeous interesting people living here. Wow, what a change!
I have somehow stumbled upon a whole other Balfolk scene it seems. Yes it's called Contra here, but Man, the atmosphere is exactly the same. Yesterday: dance at the Gray Eagle, oh and Man was it nice!
I'm staying it my favorite American house so far. Just outside town, on a small hill backed by lush groves of timber stands a wooden castle. From the classic veranda, including swinging chairs, you enter a home created with full love. Plants and crystals line the walls, regalia from it's owner's many travels embellish the window sills where one may gaze out over the edible garden, the railroad tracks and distant green hills. There is a smell of old tarnished wood and many rooms harboring great friendly kids, roommates and kittens, large and small. Sleeping on the best couch ever, and feeling so very at the right place.
So happy to be here, so happy to be alive, on the road and ever home, in America.
There are the magic
years.... and therefore
magic days.... and
therefore magic
moments
