The Journey and the Destination

So one of my good friends did her weekly Facebook vlog this morning (is vlog even the right term? I have no idea. I'm so not 'hip' to these trendy social models). Anyways, one of her themes was talking about the journey versus the destination. She actually usually has a lot of themes going on in her 20-30 minute talks, but I can only focus on one thing at a time while at work...so I picked this one. But it's a curious theme that I think is often overlooked by most people in life, as we're so distracted by everything going on around us, and everything in our past that we carry around like unwanted baggage on our soul, that we tend to just put blinders on and push forward as best we can. So, here I will babble a little bit about it.

My first recollection of dealing with this theme is in music. It's a really a big one in performing arts, or at least it used to be anyway. Question: which is more important as a developing musician, the journey (the rehearsals) or the destination (the concert)? It's really, I think, a very good analogy for life. It may be a good analogy for everything, though the answer may vary depending on the application. Obviously everyone wants to have a "good" concert, so the destination is clearly important. But the steps you took to get there - the rehearsals - is where all of the growth and learning occurs. Or most of it anyway. Which is more important? My college band director who loved this topic was all about the destination. And I suppose, as an educator, in many ways that makes sense. (But of course he wanted to put on a good show at the end of the day as well. Well, who wouldn't?)

These things can apply to life as well, and specifically to our relationships with others. I'm at a point in my life where I'm completely free, with no clear course of direction. Like a sailboat bobbing along all by itself in the middle of the vast ocean. Except I have a small dinghy tethered to me as well. He'll be turning 6 next month. (I do tend to use a lot of nautical analogies, don't I? Perhaps I was a fish in a former life. A whale. Or a dolphin. Maybe I WAS a boat. Who knows?) Anyways, I don't know when or if I will ever be involved in a relationship, but I think the next time around - if there is a next time around - I'm going to try, really try, to focus on the journey more. I will try not to worry about where any potential romance may be leading, and just enjoy the moments with that person. I mean, after all, that's what we're supposed to be doing here, isn't it? Enjoying each other with what time we have.

Too often we worry incessantly about little details that we often have little control over. Oh, this relationship won't work because of this thing or that thing. Well you know what? Screw all that. Just enjoy having time to spend together, to appreciate life and the beauty that this world can still provide. While you still can; life is fleeting after all. The longer you wait, the less you'll have left. It's not going to last forever. So if someone makes you smile, if you enjoy your time together and find you think of them often, just focus on that. Chances are, the little details will work themselves out along the way. But even if they don't, so what? At least you had a nice journey (if you did it right!). Here's the thing about life: you can't go back and change the journey. BUT, if you don't like the destination, you can ALWAYS change that. Just turn around, and take a step forward. And find a new journey. It's as simple as that. Am I oversimplifying? Perhaps. I guess time will tell. But life is nothing but a series of decisions, piled on top of another one after the other. We just need to make the right decisions.

In deciding recently that I need to include more photos on my blog, I'm including here a shot of the sun and clouds not long after sunrise this morning, taken from outside my son's school. Does it have any relevance? You bet. The clouds are on a journey. So is the sun. So are we, literally, as we hurtle through space on this tiny rock we call home. Everything we see around us is on a journey. So I suppose, considering that, perhaps the journey SHOULD be more important than the destination.

Beach. Nude beach.

So yesterday I got away, to the City by the Bay. It was a wonderful trip, at once both familiar and new, both relaxing and exciting. Which, really, should be a good indicator of any successful trip. I had originally intended to start at the beach, doing some out-of-the-way hiking, but it didn't end up that way. At least, not at the beginning. That's one of the great things I love about San Francisco; I can go and see where the mood takes me, and there's always so many possibilities, so many directions.

I started, as I most often do, parking under my favorite tree in the free parking lot by the Marina, next to Fort Mason. I began with a leisurely stroll down along the waterfront, through the beaches of Crissy Field and towards the base of the Golden Gate. It was in view today, a stark contrast to the last trip I took in which it was shrouded in fog the entire day. But I didn't get past Fort Point. Instead, I turned around and headed back towards the city.

That was not part of the plan. Usually when I first arrive, I am either in a somber or pensive mood, and try and steer clear from the more touristy spots for as long as possible, so that I can think. Walking time is the best thinking time, after all. But I was in an entirely different mood, on this day. It was as if a bright spark had ignited deep inside me - which usually doesn't happen until much later in the day on one of these trips. It acted like a beacon of sorts, or like a divining rod, guiding my path along the Embarcadero and down to the Ferry Building, before taking me up Market Street and into the Union Square area. And then back along Columbus while stopping at a couple of bars along the way.

I took a lot more photos than I normally do, simply because a really fantastic friend of mine wanted to see them. So I played the tour guide, of sorts. Pointing out little visions of beauty that most people fail to recognize, or else they recognize them as something important but do not know why. So along I went, stopping here and there and taking pictures, and sending them off into the world to find their audience. In this way, she spent the day with me, in a manner of speaking, and I am immensely and humbly grateful for her presence in spirit.

Later in the afternoon, she called me out on a minor point - she had read my previous blog post, and knew that this was not the path I had intended for myself. I was supposed to be out along the great beaches, immersing my soul in their grandeur, and looking for parts of myself that had been lost long ago. So I went back to my car, and I left the bustling city for the high cliffs of the Presidio, stopping at the overlook to the batteries and Marshall's beach. And then something else happened. Well, several somethings, as I'm sure the reader will glean from the title of this post. But first, one more side story.

My good friend...well, wait a minute. I find the term "friend" somewhat lacking to truly describe what her presence in my life means to me. I'm afraid I cannot think of a better term off the top of my head that will do it justice. Maybe one hasn't been invented yet. Or maybe I am just inadequate to the task. I will need to ponder this further. Anyways. She suggested that I take off my shoes and socks and actually, well, get a little wet. This is a common practice on the beach for normal people but fairly foreign to me, as I almost always wear shoes and socks everywhere I go. Even along the beach. I think the last time I went barefoot at a beach was in Hawaii in 2015. But again I digress. She said it would be healing, something about receiving energy from the earth. She was speaking in a physical sense; I am not aware if she realizes that it also works in a spiritual sense. But I suspect she does; she's pretty smart. In any case, trusting her opinion and recommendation, I did it. And I walked along the beach and let the waves literally wash over me, and not just figuratively. And do you know what? She was right, she was right.

And then there was the nudity.

To quote a snippet from Hamilton, which I had actually tried unsuccessfully to get a discount matinee ticket to go see: "Ladies and Gentleman...the moment you've been waiting for." So, apparently, there was this all-male nudist group enjoying the beach on this sunny afternoon. I have no idea if they are regulars or if this was a one time thing; they certainly weren't there the last time I visited this beach. And they were actually attractive guys - if you like that sort of thing. This beach is also a popular spot for photography, so there were a lot of clothed individuals around as well. One of the fully-clothed men walked past me fairly close and smiled and nodded, and I think I detected a small glint in his eye that seemed to say, "I'd hit that". I was definitely not in Kansas anymore. But, it was actually refreshing to see everyone functioning in harmony together, the clothed and un-clothed alike, the straight men and gay men alike. To summarize the experience: I saw a lot of penises on this trip.

And now, as the weekend is fading into history, I think my soul is primed and ready to tackle the 'real' world again. Connor is back with me and we have the day off tomorrow for whatever adventures suit our fancy. I might go back again to the Bay in two weeks, you never know. And no, it won't be just to see if I can find another nude beach. But hey, anything can happen in San Francisco.

Week One: Done

I'm pretty sure I wrote another post with this exact same title some time ago. It's a recurring theme anyway, as so many things in life are. The first week of school is finally done. We're off and running, so to speak. And here we are with a 3-day weekend to unwind and decompress. I'm going to take a trip to San Francisco tomorrow before getting Connor back on Sunday.

A good friend asked me yesterday why I go to San Francisco. I'm not entirely sure that she's aware of how often I make this trip in the course of a year. I suppose I like that it's fairly close and has lots to see and do, things appropriate for whatever mood I find myself in. Really though, when I pass over that last crest of a hill and I see the ocean coming into view for the first time, an immense calm comes over me. It's as if the waves themselves are washing over my soul, pulling away the loose sand and debris that has clogged it. It's like I've come home.

In a word: serenity. That's why I go.

Over the last 24 hours I've subjected myself to waves of a different kind: nostalgia. I've been going through my file cabinet in the folder where I've kept personal treasures for years and years. Mostly cards and letters from times gone by. It's amazing how much we forget over the years. The people who touched our lives and affected us in our youth. Those who pulled us along when we needed a tether to keep us on our path. There was even a couple of letters from people that, honestly I can't yet remember who they are. I stare at their name on the page and concentrate as hard as I can. But they've been completely washed from memory.

But that's not true of most of my treasures. There were some people I was very close to, who meant the world to me and yet I drifted apart from them over the years. Like a small dinghy hopelessly lost, further and further out to sea. Maybe that's why the ocean calls to me now. Maybe it wants me to keep an eye out for this little ship to finally drift back home. So the world will be right again.

I can't really say that I have any regrets in life. I believe that the only way a person can truly have regrets is if they aren't happy with where they've ended up in life. And I'm not prepared to admit that. Things aren't perfect, sure. Things need work, sure. I'm not finished, not by a long shot. But I'm content with who I've become, with who I am at this instant.

And yet, I cannot help but look back on potential missed opportunities and wonder: what might have been. It's silly, I know. One cannot change the past. But perhaps the present and future will change now, as I've relived through some past memories - GOOD memories - long forgotten that now bob incessantly on the surface of my consciousness.

Life is funny. The first week of the first semester of my 21st year at Sac State is done. Tomorrow I will take a good, hard, long look across the sea. I wonder what I'll see.

Missing Donuts

It's Tuesday morning. 9am. Day 2 of school. Where are the donuts?? Honestly I've grown exceptionally disappointed in this certain student organization's ability to consistently supply me with my insatiable craving. Once upon a time, long long ago, there were very consistent. It was a given, a mathematical certainty, that they'd be there, peddling their wares in our building on each and every Tuesday and Thursday morning. I could count on them, and I would always get a chocolate bar. I miss my donuts. Anyways. Times change I suppose.

The school year is off and running, and as usual it's an exceptionally busy time with a seemingly non-stop stream of students coming by looking for lockers. And keys. And directions. So many people are lost (and not just physically, it seems). It's always bittersweet for me when a new semester starts. I miss already the peace and serenity of the holiday break around here, but it's also nice to see some familiar faces again. And let's face it, the work day goes by much faster when you're much busier. And slower when you're not. I do believe you could apply a mathematical proportion to that relationship. I find I'm a bit tired already though, even though it's only Day 2 and not even 10:30am at that. That may be just a by-product of this past closing weekend of the Yeomen of the Guard with LOTS; playing five performances of an entire Gilbert and Sullivan opera is definitely taxing! Though it is perhaps that I've just been staying up too late besides that. Hey, I'm not in my 20's anymore. Bedtime is 9pm! How old I've become. But I'm proud to admit that on Friday night I stayed out at a bar having drinks and appetizers with a certain oboe player from our orchestra, and I didn't get home till almost 3am! How wild am I?

I'll have to keep this short as it's just too busy here right now; I've been working on this for over an hour already (lol). I did want to say though, that last night I reconnected with an old friend from my *gasp* junior high days. From way, way back in my history. I had mostly fallen out of touch with her over the years, only catching glimpses of her existence now and then on Facebook. (To be fair, I mostly have fallen out of touch with everyone - I'm like a hermit. A recluse even) But it was so nice to catch up a little bit on each other's lives. How many years have gone by?! Too many. I think our respective lives were quite a bit of a surprise to each other. SO much has happened. Hopefully we'll continue to chat, and even find some time to hang out so we can catch up on missed hugs from years gone by, and become good friends once more.

Hey look, it's 10:30am now. Back to work I guess. I do wish I had a donut right now...

Tuesday Morning

It's a cool morning. That's saying something, after weeks of daily high temperatures near or over the century mark. It's supposed to be 'only' 89 today. Hooray for simple pleasures. It's fortunate in my job that I don't always have to stay cooped up in my office, as it was a delightful morning to stroll through the campus whilst still completing necessary errands for the State. And it's fortunate that I work on a campus that basically amounts to a giant park, laden with trees including dozens of redwoods. And occasionally, squirrels. And now, being the week before school starts, it's still pretty peaceful out there. It's still possible wander about and foolishly imagine that this park exists for only me. At least, for a little while. Next week, we'll be overrun with tourists, and those of us who are more permanent residents will just have to sigh in acceptance. Summer had to end eventually, after all.

It's been a decent summer over all, some new adventures and some old ones, and hanging out with or otherwise reconnecting with people I had more or less lost touch with in recent years. Another summer and another cruise to Alaska, but my first as a single dad. On the performing arts side, we're midway through our run of Gilbert and Sullivan's "Yeoman of the Guard" with the Light Opera Theatre of Sacramento, and the show has been going well and drawing decent crowds, who have had enthusiastic responses to it. So that's fun. I haven't actually seen that many people I know in the audiences, but perhaps that will change in this our closing weekend. I'll probably head out for drinks after Friday's show at least, just a way to unwind and celebrate all of the things that are ending. Summer. The Yeoman. Peace and Quiet. The usual end of summer routine.

What will this school year hold? What will the fall and winter hold? Who knows, who knows. I prefer to keep my mind and options open, I suppose. I'm still in the midst of dealing with all the changes of the past year. I suspect there will be a lot more to deal with in the coming weeks and months, as we approach what promises to be, for me, a whole new sort of holiday season. Last year's was a bit of a mess for me personally. But that's all over now. Now, I trudge along, day by day, and I'll see what unfolds. Perhaps that is too passive of a way to go through life, I don't know. But there is a certain spiritual calm to it, just letting things fall where they may and trying not to worry about the minor details along the way.

Of course I may have to start interjecting some drive and ambition into things, just to spice life up a bit. We'll see.

But for now, it's only Tuesday, and there's still a few more days left for adventure before the semester starts. Onward.

Walk In The Night

So tonight was our first full run of Yeomen of the Guard, with a full 20-something piece orchestra and the cast in their full, period styled regalia. It actually went really well, I thought. This show seems to me to have a bit of a slower pace compared to other Gilbert and Sullivan shows. But the operatic sound is rather delightful and - dare I say - pretty. It will be interesting to see how this show comes off.

I got home a little after 10pm, which for any community theatre tech rehearsal is actually exceptionally early. After being home for a bit I decided to go out for a walk. I don't why. Because I could, I suppose. What other reason does one need?

Anyways, I started out around 11:30 and followed mostly the same path I usually go when I walk around sunset. But this time, it was quite different. It was...peaceful. Calm. Serene.

Quiet.

I experienced the world in a way that few people ever do, for no other reason than they simply choose not to. At first I only noticed the apparent absence of any sound within the dark canvas that surrounded me. But then the music of the night started to fade in, as if someone was slowly edging up the volume knob of a radio, higher and higher until it virtually begged to be noticed.

I heard crickets at first, perhaps only one or two initially, until they eventually grew into an entire army. There might be a whole bustling city of them out there, all past the edge of human sight. And then over the top of it, like a solo piccolo in an orchestra, came the tweets of a single bird. It was far in the distance, and seemingly tentative yet incessant. Repeating. Again. And again. As he threw his song out into the world, with no one but me and the crickets to hear, it seemed as if he was merely practicing. Testing out his voice, as it were. Probably he didn't expect anyone to be listening.

As I continued walking, I must have gotten fairly close to him, as his song grew more urgent, almost alarmed. He was probably spooked by my presence, since it's so unusual for him to see humans out at this hour. As well he should be. Creatures from my species are dangerous creatures indeed. But eventually he must have decided I was not a threat, for his song simmered down and continued on its original course.

I found that I could focus my hearing like an antenna, and I picked up the distant sound of cars on the freeway, which at this distance sounded almost like the crashing of waves on a beach. Steady and unrelenting. It's pretty easy, at this hour, to remove yourself from reality and transport your mind to just about anywhere.

As I walked, the day passed through that invisible marker of linear time: midnight. A new day had begun. The transition was so seamless that it wasn't even noticeable. A moment ago it was Tuesday, now it's Wednesday. Time marches on. Who really notices?

I wish I could reveal more hidden miracles of the world that I discovered on my journey, but unfortunately the reverie was broken by some idiots in cars doing donuts in a nearby parking lot. Why do humans have to go screwing everything up? It's almost like the moronic masses believe they've found their own distorted meaning of life. "Welcome to earth, your purpose is to muck up everything as much as you possibly can". And they do, they do.

It's a good thing the earth still retains a lot of beauty that mankind has not yet found a way to tarnish. Oh well. Time for bed.