Cold Noses and Warm Food.

     Reflection:
     I can not believe it hasn't even been a week yet. Every day is just so full of happenings it's hard to believe that. I compare this to my life of years ago; work, video games, eat. Maybe some comic books. I wasn't bored, but a part of me wanted more, though at the time the world was far too large and scary...
     Now here I am, writing about the first week of my adventure in the Philadelphia Free Library. Describing how I feel right now is difficult. My emotions throughout the journey so far have ranged from, "I can not believe I am here right now oh my gosh this is the greatest thing ever" to "I have no idea what I'm doing I might die where the hell am I?" That first feeling happening when I arrived at my current couchsurfer host's house and, after being greeted like I was family and fed delicious food, retiring to the room they provided to me. The later being camped on the side of the road on some random stretch in New Jersey, unable to move my legs after cycling for about 80 miles that day down the Jersey Shore, as water condescended and pooled inside my tent, making my rest rather uncomfortable.
     Certainly, most of my time has been and will be me pushing and pedaling endlessly on Lionheart. At the worst of times I most certainly question my decisions. Connecticut wasn't so bad right? There's people that love you there. It's easy. It's safe... But I don't want that. Not now. I want to adventure, while I can! I know nothing. I need to learn more before I can know for sure what path I want to take in my life. Who will I be in ten years? Who will you be in ten years? Either of us could be that downtrodden person on the corner, asking for change. How did they get there? How could we? Or maybe we could realize our dreams. Figure out just the right decisions to make to get to where we want to be. That's all life is. Decisions. I decided to be here. I'm deciding to push my body through whatever to get to where I want to be. Sometimes it sucks, but I made the decision. That means I'm awake. That means I'm free.


     Story:
     There are already so many stories to tell, how do I decide? I suppose I'll start the story of Philadelphia. Still in the midst of living it but I'll try to get it down here. It is everything we could have hoped for and more.
     I wake up at my host's place Saturday morning rarin' to jump into the city. This is my first city to explore along my journey and I am really pumped. I did a bit of exploring yesterday and got some leads, so I'll continue those today. I had gone to a used bookstore to ask about poetry readings/open-mics. They pointed me to another used bookstore, and they pointed me to The Kelly Writers House on the University of Pennsylvania campus. 'Twas getting late so I had headed to my current location after that, but now I hope to continue the adventure. Additionally, I plan to get to the library as there's that gal on okc that said I'm cool and wants to meet up maybe tomorrow... And there's the museums to go to.
     My host, Melanie, awakens with her dog Thor, and we chat a bit. Melanie is extremely kind and very interested in everything that I and the other couchsurfer here are up to! Her and her husband Rudy are extremely generous and really go out of their way to see that my needs are met. I scarf down some carbs in the form of a bagel and the left overs from last night (I cooked penne with a buttery Parmesan sauce with spinach, onions, and broccoli, which everyone seemed to appreciate). Melanie gives me plenty of knowledge I need to know about the city, and suggests I take the trolley in and leave my bike and bags here. A lovely suggestion!
     The trolley takes me on a tour of the outskirts of Philadelphia, specifically the South-Western area. It's a sunny and perfectly warm day as the trolley makes it way out of the lower income outskirt of the city into the clean and bustling downtown area—though for some reason the people taking their daily commute don't seem quite as excited as I am. The trolley enters an underground tunnel, making it feel very Subway-esque. I have no particular stop in mind to get off at, but when I see "University of Pennsylvania" on the wall I think of my mission to find The Kelly Writer's House and hop off.
     I emerge from the underground station to an academia in bloom. Cherry blossom trees line paths which maneuver and direct traffic flow around the many academic halls; some modern, some much older than I. Some students are setting something up on a table in a small grass clearing and, hoping at the chance for some free calories, I go over to investigate. I meet Anika, a beautiful college student who tells me she is setting up a pig roast for her student group. She introduces me to her beautiful friend Briana, who happens to be from Connecticut. She's impressed I know where her town of Granby is (thanks traveling science teacher job haha). At first, I'm really thinking about how I can not let them realize I'm not a student there and just some random dude wandering around so that I can get some food... But then I remember my mission to find The Kelly Writer's House, and that seems noble enough, so I admit my story and tell them about my journey. They are impressed, and give me directions to the place I seek. I say I'll come back after to chat more (and I mean it).
     Walking along, I reflect on how I felt about my exchange with Brianna and how once I was more honest with my intention (I stopped caring about food when I remembered The Kelly Writer's House) I felt a lot more comfortable. If we are independent—if there is nothing we need from another—we can focus on Just the exchange of ideas with them. We can connect. Taking care of ourselves and overcoming our desire to satisfy our needs and comforts immediately is the key to being genuine with people. As I cross a land bridge over traffic on Rt. 13, I am suddenly inspired. Being back on a campus is nostalgic, especially standing atop a bridge over traffic. I sit right in the middle and write two poems. The many college students and their youth is distracting, so it takes a bit, but I felt satisfied with my product in the end.
     The Kelly Writer's House has an energy to it. It is almost an oddity; an actual little two-story house across from and next to much more large and much more modern academic halls. Yet the small and densely shaded front yard leading to the front door is nestled in cozily where it resides. Walking inside, one feels the pull this place has on those such as myself, wishing to share their ideas. I ask a helpful student about the reason I am there; for a poetry reading, and she gives me a calendar. There is a speakeasy open-mic night coming up on Wednesday. Well, no idea where I'll be staying after Sunday, but I am going to that poetry reading and nothing is gonna stop me, so cool!
     I head back to the field where Anika and Brianna's picnic are in full swing. I am fortunate enough to look a bit younger than I am, so no one questions me when I begin helping myself to cookies and carrots on the table. I notice Brianna walking around and decide I aught to share my poem with her. She helped inspire it after all. She expresses her interest and I read away.

     "Spring on Campus"

     Ideas emerge from buildings
     into grassy fields
     like the flowers on a tree
     a glimpse of something real.
     A cost has been placed
     to experience such
     For that which aught be free
     is the price not too much?
     We sell our lives for the chance
     to take a glimpse of it is
     What are you not seeing
     drowning in Jack and Jin
     The cost of simply living
     grows heavier every day
     But how can we simply live
     if we're simply living to pay?

     Now for anyone reading that does not know or may not be able to imagine, reading a poem you just wrote to a beautiful woman on a beautiful day, as wind blows newly blossomed petals between the two of you and into both of your hair, is an absolutely invigorating experience. Take into account that my mind is completely clear as I just breathe and feel thankful for the few special moments that I may stare into this wonderful woman's eyes, and the term "living in the moment" does not quite fully encapsulate all the emotions. And when she seems to like the poem that's even better. In return for my poetry, Brianna shares her passion with me about light and photons. She tells me how something that is completely invisible is what is allowing everything and anything to be visible, and this fact is a constant reminder to her that everywhere is beautiful, no matter where she is. I'm struck, and I think of how I felt just a day ago, cold and wet on the side of the road. Could I apply this perspective to my travels? I believe I can. I will try anyways. I bid Brianna a good day, knowing I will not see her again. Such is the way of the traveler that I have chosen.
     So from there I head into downtown and end up at the Science Museum, just as it is closing. The guard tells me there's a Lego exhibit that stays open though on the second floor that is still open, so I agree to check that out (though on the way I look at all the exhibits heeheehee). When there is no more exhibits to see without going off course, I notice there is some event going on with catering. I'd love some of that food, and I happen to be in my good looking clothes, so the idea of sneaking in occurs to me... But I chicken out and leave instead. Standing outside the museum, I felt intensely regretful. I'm on my adventure! I aught to be taking the jump! That's what adventure is! What am I so afraid of? I held on to that feeling and resolved that next time, no matter the situation, I'd go for it.
     The adventure of that day continued, and I continued to learn a lot and meet many interesting people, but those stories are different paths. The following day, I had to ride just 20 miles to Norristown to my next couchsurf host. There is a beautiful bike trail leading all the way there that travels along the Schuylkill River (it took me a week before I pronounced that correctly). Along the way, I see a small concrete island, apparentely a part of a dam, out in the water looking over a waterfall. There's a long narrow path to reach the island (technically a pennisula now that I think of it). On that dry patch is a group of people clearly smoking marijuana. I can see the smoke in the air and most people would not go to the trouble of braving the scary concrete bridge just to smoke a cigarette.
     So as I'm seeing all this and riding along, I think, "Awe man, that is the coolest thing to do. That is exactly where I want to be and what I want to be doing right now." As I think this, all five of the people on the little spot there turn and wave to me at the same time. I wave back, and think about that feeling of regret from the other day. I decide, despite the social oddness of the situation, to ask. We only get what we ask for, and here's a great example. If I just kept riding, I would have regretted not stopping, and I definitely would not have met any of these folk. Instead, I hit my brakes and yell, "You guys seem cool, can I come hang out with you!?" They all kinda look at each other, and one girl responds, "Have you ever heard of stranger danger?" so I just below, "Faith!" and she yells back "...alright!"
     I secure Lionheart to a tree, make my way over the narrow bridge to the spot, and discover I was right; this spot is super chill. I tell this group my story and they figure out I am not a police officer and offer me some smoke. I tell some stories and am feeling pretty happy about what I'm doing with my life. One of the gals there tells everyone about a 4/20 show the next day at some batting cages. If I didn't take the jump I wouldn't know about that. I am SO there...
     I miss my turn on the trail and ride into the darkness for nine miles before realizing I'm going the wrong way (don't ride your bicycle way high at night time kids). I eventually get to my hosts house and am met with a freshly prepared delicious meal. This host's name is Caleb, and he is awesome. There are several bicycles hanging on the walls from the ceiling, a functional and very cool aesthetic Some nice looking guitars also hang to the side, though Caleb admits he does not play too often. A respectable shelf of books, a table equipped with lighting and water basins ready to grow plants inside, paintings of plants in cardboard frames elsewhere on the wall—everything points to Caleb's values of sustainability and preserving nature. After I finish eating, with consideration that I may be tired (it is almost midnight now), Caleb says he was planning on going Dumpster Diving. I perk up at the idea. Dumpster Diving is something I've been greatly interested in but had not explored myself yet.
     Caleb and I head out to behind a Trader Joe's where he shows me how this works. The results are amazing. We secure two days worth of food in five minutes, then we leave. I'm elated! Truly this changes everything! Rather than money slowly dwindling away as I sustain myself, I can now secure my own sustenance from the environment! If I really need food I can just hang around and wait too. Unlike most functioning members of our society I have nothing better to do haha. Caleb and I head back with grapefruit, greek yogurt, a jar of peanut butter, a crate filled with slightly browned pears, a box of macaroons, bananas, and some shampoo. I do some writing while I eat the macaroons and go to bed.
     Next day I head to the Batting Cages. As I expected, it is a collection of cool music types. I meet many awesome people and have a great time just doing that, writing in my journal, and listening to music. The show was in/very near to downtown Philly, so I had to ride my bike the 20 miles back up to Norristown. Not exactly the most fun trip at 2am in the rain (and without my rain gear ffff). I see some gals from the show walking their bikes and ask if I can walk with them for a bit. We end up talking on the corner for like 20 minutes until they invite me to the after party at Big Mama's House. I go inside and see a vision that I do not believe exists in the state of Connecticut. A large warehouse has been turned into an art studio/living space. Paintings adorn the walls, both on isles and painted right on the brick. All manner of projects lie about in different corners, from costumes to sculptures. Some people are playing on a pool table in front of me. Mostly everyone is on the couches in the center of the space, which are cordoned into a square, creating the social space. A simple swing hangs from the ceiling waiting to be used. People stand nearby smoking, drinking, and mingling. This... is... the coolest place. Ever.
     I sit on the swing and am overcome with joy. I've somehow stepped into some movie. Events are rolling by so fast I can barely keep up. Nothing isn't worth remember. Everything is exciting and rich in meaning. Perhaps life has always been this way, I was just too asleep to notice. My consciousness moves back and froth with me on the swing, between a state of disbelief that I am where I am and being so completely alive and in that moment in that space at that time. I may never be there again, I may live there for years to come. My path is completely up to me and I can choose any direction I want—nothing is in my way. I choose to write another poem, my seventh one since leaving. I read it to Hannah, one of the lovely women that invited me inside. She seems to like it. A lot.


     Hm, dialogue. Quotes. What people actually say. I need to work on that.
     Maybe more brevity? Every sentence should probably have a purpose. Maybe there were some I could take out? Hmm...


     Poetry:
     On the eve of the first night, I came upon Pocomo Point, a little park and trail in the North coast of New Jersey. I asked a police officer who was yelling at some dude to put his dog on a lease if I could camp there. I told him my story, and after seeing my Renzo Gracie shorts asked,
     "Do you fight?"
     "Uh, yeah I trained in Muay Thai a bit"
     "Dude, you are my hero. You're uhhhh not supposed to camp here but you can probably get away with it..."
     And off he went. I found a little path and set my tent up on the beach. Somehow, this magic place exists, where there are no people, the skyline of New York City just visible on the horizon, the sound of waves on the shore... It was amazing. I watched the sunset which was magnificent, and wrote this poem:

     "Northern Jersey Shore"

     The New York City skyline
     Just visible across the water
     The atmosphere is shades of vibrant and electric pink
     with fantastic warming purple.
     It is alive! The world is alive!
     The panorama shifts before our eyes
     Incomprehensibly beautiful colors
     drenching the painting above our heads.
     Birds fly off into it
     A jellyfish floats by
     Lights from buoys and towers and buildings
     begin their silent blinking.
     They are all a part of it
     as are we.
     I can not move
     I can not look away
     The heavens hold my gaze now with a deep magenta
     reflecting off the water and waves
     more marvelous than my feeble attempt of words can describe.
     Will I remember this moment?
     The peaceful beauty slowly fading away into darkness
     The now fiery orange horizon
     being chased away by an impossible gray
     My troubles behind me
     Hardship and wonder ahead
     How long can I exist here?
     Who is waiting for me in the night?
     I pray I awaken early enough to see the sun rise.


     Pictures:
     These won't capture the marvelous sunset I witnessed there, but here's my first night camp site:

 A secret(ish) path from the parking lot to...

 My first camp site (:

Pocono Point, New Jersey.
There are many little places left in the world that still hold magic.
I intend to find more of them.