USA

Music, such a simple, yet profoundly complex formula of movements, the movements resulting sounds, and the end result of life changing effects that can occur, within a patient listener. Music has always had a profound, and special influence on pretty much everything I have ever experienced in my life. Sometimes it drives me forward, other times it holds me back, and it almost always does a beautiful job of accentuating my life path. When I first set out on this expedition, I had notably high expectations of how I would include music in every nook, crack, and cranny of this project. But as we all know the cards rarely fall perfectly in all situations, and that was the case prior to my time with Michelle. I was again reminded of how all things happen in good time and for a reason. A chronically happy soul, mother and drummer supreme, Michelle was always sporting a giant smile, and I immediately felt the music of life flowing through this person. Was I ever right on that note."No pun intended." Amongst many great moments that were shared sitting around the outdoor fireplace, discussing life, music, and the pursuit of happiness. Their were a few adventures that we shared that I will absolutely never forget, because they will quite possibly have an enlightening effect on the remainder my life. Although I am a lover all things music, I have always understood that their is a quality gap that exists between most of us appreciative listeners, and the artists that create the sounds. Not having grown up in a musical family, and having never been pushed to release my creative side in such away, I had become quite content to sit on the sidelines and just be thankful for the creative abilities that I did have. I had never seriously entertained the idea of joining the ranks of sound makers, but Michelle had decided that the sidelines should not be my fate. Against my humble protests, she made me accompany her to the local music store so that she and I, could pick out a very shiny, and very sweet sounding harp. Otherwise known as a harmonica. I cant even describe the feeling I get when I begin to make sounds with my new best friend, something like going to another world, a true escape, and I cannot wait for the day that I can actually make nice sounds, that others can enjoy. Until then you will just have to bare with my racket. Suprisingly this was only the beginning of my exploration into new music with Michelle, later I was given drum lessons by the expert herself, and then taken out on the town to hear the best of what Concord California had to offer in the way of Blues, Jazz, and Rock. Man, what a time I am having! I know I wont be forgetting this one. Again I parted ways with Michelle, and her son Ryan, knowing that yet another great new friendship had just been born.

The timing could not have been better, at the exact moment that I had come within reasonable pickup distance from my brother Joel's house in Alameda, my feet had reached a level of deterioration I can only describe as, "hamburger feet." Yes that means blood, peeling, pus and bruising. Regardless I could not help but feel supremely satisfied with the accomplishments of the week prior, my brain was telling me... its all good keep going with it, experience as much as you can before you head North again. But my body was singing a very different tune, stop, Stop, STOP DAMMIT! Unable to argue with a voice that obnoxious I stopped. I shot my brother Joel an email, and presto im living slow, and easy again. First thing to strike a chord, in my now, very relaxed state, was the contrasting environment. I had already become quite comfortable living on nothing, and bouncing around moment to moment. But within a matter of 15 minutes from sending my email, my brother an aspiring brew master, and his 7 months pregnant wife Chantel were treating me to what tasted like the food of kings, and a some very, very fresh brew. I was overcome with a feeling of heart felt gratitude. This forced me to ponder deeply something that has been on my heart from the start... Im traveling the world living on kindness,hoping that people will let their guards down long enough to buy in to the message, but I sure feel like I am doing allot of "taking" from my hosts. This is really not the message I want to send to people. What can I do reciprocate all of this kindness? So right there... I made a pact with myself, to make everything I have to give, available to every single person that I meet. "So to any future hosts that might be reading this in anticipation of my arrival. Take note, and please allow me the opportunity to give back, I really want to!" After a couple of slow days with Joel and Chantel, I was kindly passed along to another relative that lived further North, and had agreed to let me continue my recovery at her house. She had also promised to tour me around her neck of the woods to get a taste of the local music scene. I cant wait!

Call it what you like. A haven for misguided, over educated, secular progressives. Or... a place to come if you, have a desire to live, say, or act out, in any way you want without incessant harassment by the powers that be. While I completely understand why many people would fear the diverse lifestyle that is very much "in your face" here. I cant think of a place that I have been in the United States that embraces true freedom to the degree that the Bay area does. I have spent the last week exploring as many sub cultures as I could possibly make time for, and no they were not all hippie, non conformist clubs. Some were Christian fundamentalists, community leaders, and just "normal every day people." I have been pleasantly surprised as my notions of where our country is headed as a whole slowly began to disintegrate, even if only for a couple of days. My hope was partially revived as I interviewed person after person from all walks of life that believed in uncompromising freedom for all, Peace, and a sustainable future for our world. I was even more surprised by the sheer number of people I spoke with, that were actively involved on one front or another, walking their talk. Good job San Fransisco. My time hear can be summed up with one word "Kindness." I was confronted on every corner of this massive city by people that wanted to know what I was doing, and if I needed any help? My usual response was "yes" if you are interested I would like to talk to you about some things on camera? This usually led to a walk, either to the home of the participant, or a park or cafe where relative silence could be had for the interview. On one such occasion I was taken to a large park filled with about 1000 happy people playing frisbee, barbecuing, just sitting around talking and enjoying the perfect 80* weather. I watched and filmed in amazement, as a large bus filled with costumed people pulled up to the park. The group piled out, lined up, and proceeded to run circles through the park, singing songs, dancing and playing games with the stunned summer crowd. While I could describe what I was seeing in many different ways, I think the way I felt would paint a much better picture. I was feeling happy, yeah just completely happy. I stood there with the biggest smile that I could manage, and watched as these costumed marauders put a smile on every single face in that park. Later that day, I interviewed a progressive preacher from Berkeley along with some of the flock, three nudists riding for the environment in San Fransisco, and a couple of gangsters in Oakland trying to "keep it real." My time in this city was special, maybe I just hit it on a good day, maybe it was because I was carrying around a huge camera, or the bright yellow sign on my back.But I like to think that this was a sort of diverse mecca for people actively trying to involve themselves in a beautiful world filled with interesting, kind and creative people.

Hitching out of Irvine was not an easy task, it is difficult to describe the feeling that overcomes you as 100's of 1000's of frantic, flustered, and chronically frustrated drivers pass you by in the heat of the day, pretending to busy themselves with changing the radio station, and refusing to make eye contact. Something like being invisible, it gets to a point if you wait long enough, that you really do wonder, can these people see me? Then you remind yourself that it is absurd to think such thoughts and the whole thing becomes funny. I laugh out loud and try to send out a smile, and some positive energy. About 5 hours into my character building session, a teenager pulls off on the shoulder and looks at me franticly as if to say... hurry up get in the car. He looks absolutely harmless, so I skip the formalities, like where are you headed, and is it ok if I film you? I throw my enormous bag in his back seat, and jump in. It turns out the kid is from Texas, and is headed all the way to San Fransisco. I am immediately reminded of how good things throughout my entire life, have consistently sprouted from the worst of situations , and I make a mental note never to despair about catching a ride again. 3 hour's into the trip we had completely dissected the kids entire life, he was a recent high school graduate from a private school, and the sole child of two intellectuals that desperately wanted to send him East to attend a prestigious ivy league school. He had some very different thoughts though, He claimed that in a rebellious fervor he had built a small empire dealing marijuana back in Texas, and was currently headed to San Fransisco to meet with his supplier. I quickly wrote this comment off, and assumed it was complete braggadocio. This kid probably thought that any respectable hitchhiker would be impressed with his sense of all things worldly, and had thusly concocted this story to gain my approval. Regardless of my doubts of his sincerity we reached San Fransisco both of us feeling as though we had made a new friend in the world. He was quick to offer up the couch in his large hotel room at the Hilton, I said thanks, and he said I will be right back, I have to meet somebody down the street . I gratefully laid down my gear in the plush hotel room, and quickly fell asleep. 1 hour later the door opens, and my host stumbles through the door,shoulders slumped, tears in his eyes as he falls on the hotel bed in child like fashion. By the time the poor kid pulled himself together, and had built up the courage to speak, I was all ears. With wet eyes, and a quivering lip, he softly stated, I just lost $90,000........... Any part of me that had doubted this kids initial sincerity flew out the window. I have seen the look of true desperation before, both in my own life, and in the faces of suffering people all over the world, it is not a look that is easily manufactured. The story went like this.....Kid walks down the street to meet his contact, ignorantly leaves his bag in contacts car, goes in to a restaurant for five minutes. When they come out all the cars on the street had their windows broken, and personal effects stolen, Kids scarred to death because an official exchange never took place. I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to help this guy, he clearly had no business in this lifestyle, and had the rare gift of being born surrounded by love,intelligence,and money. I had already spent some time counseling him from afar in the car, regarding his decisions to abandon his family in pursuit of a career in drugs, but he needed some well thought out guidance. At this unique juncture I thought he might actually listen to me, so I made a rare decision to operate against my instincts, and I spent the night in the Hilton, went to breakfast with the kid, and unloaded some carefully worded advice his way before I said goodbye. An interesting start to the my Bay area adventures.

I jumped off the train around 12am, and thought to myself, I had better get a good sleep and quickly found myself a spot in the dirt and crashed. The next morning I awoke to a smattering of rain, quickly packed up my gear, and found a nice little cafe in the train lounge that I camped beside the night before. This is where I began my search for the Skinner family. The Skinners are related to some good friends of mine back in Boise, Idaho, and I was really looking forward to meeting them. I quickly found Heather online, and she agreed to pick me up at her earliest convenience. To this point in my journey, most of my interactions with people had spawned out of either random meetings on the street, or people that had simply opened their couches for me to sleep on. So this meeting with the Skinners was special, here was a family of four that had completely sold out, to the idea of bringing me, a dirty traveling stranger into their highly structured world. This was a family that was constantly on the run, living a very busy life juggling school, kids activities, work and home life. I thought to myself initially, where am I going to fit into this? Where indeed, I almost immediately fell into the roll of the new fifth family member. I was fed, my wounds cleaned, entertained, and given a much needed nights sleep. More importantly I was exposed to a family that genuinely cared for a complete strangers wellbeing, and went all out to make sure that I experienced the best that Southern California had to offer. Day one began with a dinner at a local wing joint where I was treated to a spicy pre game meal with a beer, my first in weeks, soooo good! I was then treated to a baseball game featuring their son who hit a nice double in the bottom of the fourth,as I recall. Day two I was dropped of in the Newport beach area with a lunch and directions on what to do and where to go. I found a gorgeous beach, and spent my day swimming, sunning, and exploring the many beaches and harbors in the area. So my two days were up, I was driven to and dropped of at the very same spot I had been picked up two days earlier by Heather, we parted this time with a hug, and each of us the excitement of having made a new friend. While the Southern California sun had treated me well, I new my feet in particular were begging me for an extended rest, my soul for the smell of a forest, and my mind for a few less people. I threw on my backpack trudged my blistered feet to the nearest freeway exit I could find, and put up my sign that read simply, San Fransisco.