Where would you go: St Louis?

Six hours in St Louis to explore, where would you go? What would you do?

I pursued history again. The site of the 1904 World's Fair. I went to Forest Park. I started out geocaching while I waited for the museums and zoo to open. I walked around enjoying the flowers, trees and waterways. The zoo and museums have free admission. If I lived here, I would visit often and volunteer at one of the attractions.

I started with St Louis Zoo. I went into the penguin and puffin house, enjoying the proximity and character of both birds. Everyone was talking about the new polar bear. I stood at the glass outside, amused at how much other people wanted instant satisfaction- to see the bear right now. While they walked away, the bear came around the corner. I walked with it. The only thing between us was less than a foot of glass. We walked together the length of the window. The bear turned and wandered up on the rocks. I turned and wandered the zoo. I watched a tiger resting in a pool of water. A volunteer told me about popcorn plants and had me touch the leaves to smell the rich, buttery scent. Here, I'd just been looking at the golden flowers.
Time flew, the zoo was huge! I raced out and up the hill to the St Louis Art Museum. I strolled through admiring diverse artworks from abstracts to impressionists.
I sat on the rocks at the edge of picnic island. I admired the Great Basin. I even had time to appreciate exhibits at the Missouri History Museum on the 1904 World's Fair and on what St Louis was like in 1895.

My time was up too fast. The memories were worth it!

Taking Chances

The day was grey. The sky spit rain sporadically, just enough to goad me into turning on and off the windshield wipers. Vehicles in front, behind along the highway all filled with different lives, dreams and realities.
I saw a vehicle and camper along the side of the road, broken down. About a mile later, in the drizzle I saw the determined walk of a traveler carrying a backpack fighting a rolling suitcase. What if our roles were reversed? Normally, my car is too full to offer rides but I was driving a rental which happened to be a small van.
What if he was me?
I pulled over. I saw relief in his face.
He was only going fifty miles up the highway to his mother's house. I was going further. As I drove he told me about himself, what brought him there. He told me he'd been stuck there most of the day with a low charge on his phone. No one stopped to even ask if he needed a hand, a ride, anything.
He had just mentally told the universe "Haven't I always stopped to start batteries, change tires- yet I'm stuck walking fifty miles in the rain? See if I help anyone next time."
Then I pulled over. I offered a ride. A woman taught never to let a stranger in her car. He told me all this. He was dumbfounded. Why did I stop, he asked.
"If it was me, I would have hoped someone would do the same. I have three good friends who hitchhike frequently. All three are guys who are trustworthy, intelligent, caring, and giving. If I a was stranded I would hope someone would take a chance and help me out."
He spent part of the ride trying to figure out what to give me as a reward. I had to tell him repeatedly that it wasn't about getting anything- it was lending a hand where it's needed. I told him pay it forward.

We take chances every day. Are they always wise? Sometimes we pretend there isn't a choice. We give ourselves reasons to burrow into detached apathy.

Talk to strangers. Meet your neighbors. Learn about the realities other people live inside, when you do it often enough you find it easy to change your own. Grow. Learn the names of the plants that grow in your area, which ones heal you, harm you or which ones you can eat. Learn the history of your community. Learn about different cultures. Sing a song with the radio. Do something you have never done before.

I take risks. I accept the price of taking chances, for me it's a better investment than living like I'm made of marzipan cowering on a shelf.

Sometimes our weaknesses and flaws are our strengths, depending on whether you use them or let them rule you.

Contradictions and Crossroads

I still see the yellow line even though I'm not driving, it streches through my thoughts with caution signs. Caution: sharp when irrate, easily distracted, stubborn, self reliant, distant, restless.

My head fills with questions as I drive:

Why do hotels claim to have free WiFi when their signal is a suggestion of false hope, vanishing whenever you notice it at the edge of your screen?

Why are we so contradictory?

Why do we claim to care for each other, the environment, and what we eat- while devouring deep fried artificial meals with enhanced flavor to hide the lack of taste as we finish with a benediction about how some group meeting a specific description is actually the ultimate villain of all time necessitating destruction, prejudice and punishment?

Who made us the judge and jury?

Why do we have to fight over what words in old books should structure our lives and our self judgements? Why can't we focus on living and teach children to step away from judgement?

If your ancestors were persecuted and forced to follow a different religion, why are you so loyal to it? Stockholm syndrome?

Why are some people so determined to become enraged at the idea of taking the power in this country away from the 1%? If you aren't in the one percent is it because you think some day you could be?

These thoughts and a thousand others go through my head. If you are offended, why- you do not have to think them.

I'm not going door to door spreading my inner musings, nor am I set on harassing you by sharing shock style, offense evoking memes on your page or to your email. Incidentally, I have had other do those things to me then call me names via email because I don't argue with them.

  I don't post my beliefs to your wall or your email. I don't name call. If you've got to do that, you've got First world problems. You post for prayers, I politely use your preferred terminology to show support.

I've got memories of the dead. I've got memories of the living who are beneath you, around you and often avoided. The discontented, the imperfect, the different, people with stigmas who are actually incredible. Arrogance is cocaine, ego is alcohol and prayers are prescription pain killers. Denial is heroin.

I've got priorities. Food, shelter, friendship, love, my health, the health of those around me, the environment I'm in. No blame, no resentment just what can I do to enhance the world I'm in.  To meet needs and wants as best I can. Go without the frills of wants for several years and your mouth tastes like ashes when you walk into a consumer wallet sucking store full of everything you will never need. Selfies are fostering a new type of narcissism.

Why go to a beautiful place to stare at yourself?

No store sells love. No store offers contracts on self esteem or guilt reduction. No store carries discipline on its overstocked shelves between smartphones that think for you so you can live numb with the drugs and the sports and the petty tabloid dramas that titillate.

I can't go into a loan officer and say, what work can I trade you for that guy's health back?

Why isn't there an easily accessible way for students to go and get help when there are conflicts with colleges- why is it always on the student when in all other business deals there are easy to find advocacy and mediation organizations?

Why do we focus so much on the unimportant trivia and so little on the real priorities?

What are we going to do with all the excessive unnecessary smartphone cases? Are we going to use them as roofing tiles?

Even if you discount my musings:

The next time you start to stereotype in your head, stop.

The next time you have an intolerant reaction, pause and put yourself in their shoes.

It's not about being right. It's about being.

Why hate?

I put on different faces, different names so often that I've learned you can believe in anything for a while. You can love and adore it from cars to philosophies. You can put it down and walk away.

Take what you need. A friend emphasized finding the merits in all perspectives rather than focusing venom on the points to distort and feed hate.

I change every day. I'm the same but different, like everyone else I'm full of cobtradictions but when I chase down irrational beliefs and thoughts I create a crossroad. I move beyond them, leaving them with their toxic treasures and their thumbs sticking out.

The world is too incredible, life is too short. I'm still seeing the reflective paint guiding me forward but I'm not afraid to park and walk outside the lines. Are you?

A Birthday Wish

We all have one, once a year, whether it is momentous or quiet. We all age, second by second and day by day. We grow into ourselves, our faces develop lines reflecting our character and our relationships reflect our hearts, while our paths demonstrates our spirit.

How do we become? Some like caterpillars do it without thought, effortlessly creating a cocoon then blossoming to a thousand smiles.

When I was young I was blessed with three Great grandmothers. They were Great. They taught me what love was and that it was not my fault that I was what I was. It was still hard. Sometimes I had to go home. I told stories to myself of what love and care really should be, I created excuses in my heart to dampen the wounds from those closest to me. Those stories got me through a childhood full of emotional traps, spiderwebs and sorrows. I lived a thousand lovely fantasies in my head.

I never chose to become something subtly cruel. I could have easily. It was modelled for me. I could have set emotions aside, they're awkward anyways to carry around inside. I could have become my father's daughter, finding happiness in trapping and killing animals.

Instead I found the person I wanted to be through looking outside my home. I looked in books, fairy tales that inspired because the hero faced darkness around and within but perservered to go beyond. No guilded edges, stories with sharp glass and death. Stephen King 's Cycle of the Werewolf, the Stand, Hans Christian Anderson, the Illiad. Light reading when you aren't yet ten. The heros resonated, their characters called to me. They sang "Who do you want to be?"

People ask "What do you want to do, what would make you happy?"

Odd question, I think. What makes me happy is making the choices to live, to care, and to be who I've become despite the shadows that will always roam in my head and the scars that will always pattern across my heart. I consider those scars like the patterns on the wings of butterflies. My spirit burns as an intense lightening, capable of light and destruction. Each of us has this struggle.

Today I stand at a Vista looking back. I've come a long distance. I am humbled and honored by the shapes of the hearts around me. I am blessed by thousands of glowing, growing hearts. My spirit dwells in a beautiful circle of love. If you could all see it the way I do: you would see yourselves as flowers, trees, mountains and golden plains, with a few volcanoes too. I am an ocean, tide going in and out. Just appreciating the view and honor of being in your presence.

Today I grow older by seconds and minutes as always, but in my thoughts today are every single one of you. You are the richest gifts. Today, my birthday wish is that you treat each other well, you treat yourselves with love- because I love seeing you radiant and nothing is finer than that.

What do we value?

Traveling for work, stepping from plane to shuttle to rental life and back I feel like an interloper from another world.

Excess surrounds me. Have a lot of money? Indulge in novelty like matching accessories or unnecessary doodads that I'm sure will look stunning in a landfill someday.

The buzz of conversation, boasts of spending money on frivolous things while whining about inability to pay one's own rent, and let's politely ignore that person layered up in stained shame outside sets me on edge.

What do we value? Cheap, novel goods overpriced and advertised in ways to feed our already oversized egos? Is this really who we've become? Toddlers with expense accounts in adult bodies?

Do we value each other or do we look at each other as steps to stand on and grind down with sharp judgements?

If we valued ourselves then we wouldn't choose to buy into a shallow, narcistic, self absorbed culture. Wouldn't we care more about appearances beyond the layers of makeup and tedious pop songs about getting screwed up and fucked?

It is hard to listen to boasts of waste, couched in immature terms when I see the faces of those living in another America. The voices of those who stand at the edge holding onto what others consider outdated moral codes are loud but to the multitude they are static, to some politicians they are silent. They are helping, feeding, caring. They are Americans I am honored to be proud of.  Roll down your window, you'll hear them. I share a post on homelessness and two people acknowledge it, I see posts on time wasting, ego feeding garbage and it's been shared thousands of times. Those two people, they're giants of amazing beauty in my world. Those people trying to support those without, those humans- they are incredible. You should aspire to be one or if you are one, you know how much I appreciate you. Thank you.

I'm tired. Language is gagging me. You're beautiful. No, let's be honest. You look like you. Sometimes you look great, sometimes you don't. You're amazing. Let's be honest. Amazing is climbing Everest. I'm not even amazing. I'm tenacious, stubborn, blunt, aggressive and outgoing. I'm as gregarious as a summer day with the potential of storms or beauty or both. I'm unique. You're unique. Just like everyone else and there's millions of us. We've got to get over our need to be the special snowflake. Reality is there are millions and in the end they all melt away leaving a brief memory if that. It's harsh. It's true and it's past time we face it.

What do we value? Do we really value each other? Are we really caring or only when it's easy or there's publicity? Are we truly parasites feeding off each other, choosing to inflate prices and profits to become rich? Why do we put the rich on pedestals when many got there by stepping on and ruining others as well as traumatically wounding our environment?

We claim to love puppies and kitties but we don't get our fixed and thousands are inhumanly killed at shelters every day. Out of sight, out of our mind, and someone else's problem because "OMG did you see the new ******"  A friend died this year because of a treatable infection. I had months of dialogue, trying to connect him with help. Him falling through holes. Him in pain. Him alone. In pain. Posting from another friend that he was dying, dying, gone. It's unreal. Talk about something you don't need but dropped hundreds on. I see his dead face. You should too. Remember being human and caring for each other first?

What kind of world are we shaping?

I live in two world. I step out of an airplane among Elloi then walk back around the corner among the morlocks. My face doesn't change. I'm in the same skin. Both acknowledge me as if I were kin.

A shuttle driver warned me last night I was staying in a dangerous hotel. I thanked him and told him good. When someone needs help, I'll be in the right place. He actually paused at the next intersection and looked at me. He said I was right and more people should. I told him, it's a choice I make to be human not ruled by money or appearances. It's about doing what's right and taking it with you where you go. It's not always easy and it's not glamorous. It is the American I choose to be.

So I'll ask again, what do you value? If you stepped outside yourself and heard yourself would you be proud or embarrassed? Why are we so bent on being shallow? 

Beauty isn't the packaging, it's what is inside and how we choose to live.

Next time you get a chance step into another world, a world that exists in this one. One that's real and ugly. One that reminds you you are normal, average, one of millions. Unremarkable and soon forgotten. Now go forward. Become something more through your actions not your purchases or peacocking.

Life is a River

Currents bring us together and pull at us trying to move us along to an unknown ocean. We find ourselves marveling at brief moments of connection and inspiration, wading through the tedium of traffic and glamorless to do lists.

Last week held a visit to the Chicago Botanical gardens, seeing the corpse flower preparing for ten years to bloom. The flower will reek of rotting meat and last less than a day. I went to meditate at King Sauna in Chicago, only to find it a sad, small version of the Dallas one. I went into different rooms to clear my mind, but there was a constant loud urban buzz of conversation even in the midnight hour that penetrated the tranquil mineral lined walls of the sauna rooms. Several local ladies mentioned the noise, warning me with their frustrated conversation. They noted they prefer to go to the Russian Banya in town, the Red Door.

In my mind, I was ready to step into peaceful meditation. To become a puddle of thought, intention and release. To take the time to think on all of my friends, to picture each and send them positive thoughts and love. I was mentally prepared for Dallas King Sauna, with its quiet and serene atmosphere. I wasn't ready for the irritating buzz that made my mind feel like I was standing on a mild electrical current like some strange sad bug.

I left.

I may try Red Door I may let it pass.

We went out in the canoe on Bush Lake in Minnesota, playing with the theory of using wind power by holding an umbrella but that did not quite work as an effective sail.

This week I'm watching time slide through my fingers quicker than my grasp. Next week will be here faster than a nice, long hot shower. Time and its variable pace seem determined to watch me dance, amused at my two left feet. Many companies profit off our desperate battle to conserve time, knowing we will pick a known mediocre over a potential excellent exerpience because we've got an idea of what to expect.

Today, I voted with my wallet. I went to a local shop and had the best sub sandwich I've had in years. I read reviews of area eateries in Antioch, Wisconsin. Sadly, Taco Bell had one of the highest reviews. Restaurant owners, cooks have you forgotten that the consumer wants food you prepare not food you slop out of a can? We can all open cans and make push button microwave meals. Serve real food! Seeing some of the local options with canned cheese food product poured in a pudding textured clump on my baked potato has become the best appetite killer I've found. I miss Tres Banderas, cooking the sauces from scratch, chopping the vegetables fresh, and making healthy food.

What we buy and what we share is what there becomes more of. No excuses, let's try to choose wisely. Let's pick our vitamins based on their absorption rather than price, marketing slogan or company name. Let's consider that choosing wisely conserves more quality time for the future.

Life is a River. If you pour garbage in, you get garbage. Your river may pollute others or end up in a nasty muck pool where it stagnated until the sun dries it up. How you choose to live effects more than you. If you tend the waters, the environment around you, your river is lovely and healthy. Your river could become an ocean.

This week I'm moving fast but I will still take time for the sunsets. I will still vote with my dollar. I will eat wisely. How about you?

Where would you go? Chicago

Earlier this week I found myself paying what seemed like endless tolls to enter Chicago. Several contracts made a journey into downtown necessary.

I thought about the city. I grew up in the middle of nowhere. I'm exaggerating, that was a couple miles down the road. I always have to brace myself for a trip into the heart of a large metropolis. The cities are everything I find repugnant wrapped around hidden gems of culture, art, and humanity. I consider a trip into the city like wading into a sewer to see priceless artworks, constantly being pushed by a faceless mob of moving people as dehumanizing as the scent of sewage and asphalt makes breathing require effort. It was easier to breathe at fourteen thousand feet in Colorado.

What would I see, where would I go to make it worthwhile? What jewel could lure me and raise my spirits?

Long ago I read a fictional book about the 1893 World Fair held in Jackson Park. Great minds, incredible people all came together there for an event that drew over twenty seven million people from all corners of the globe. I found my purpose. Most traces of the event have been reclaimed by time, but a few hints are there. I wanted to walk where Buffalo Bill performed, where inventors pitched ideas that are now well recognized products we use every day.

I worked my way south. I found Lincoln Park first, only familiar with it because of a band who took it's name as their own. Ironically, the park is nothing like the alternative metal band. Lincoln Park had a diverse farmers market closing as I arrived. I snagged a reasonably priced raspberry smoothie and wandered the nature boardwalk. There is a free Zoo in the park and I enjoyed seeing the animals in large, well designed areas set up to meet their needs. I wondered if the animals think they are at a place where they observe odd human behavior every day. One of the seals cruised by me on his back, but he didn't give me any answer when I asked.

I had seen a Conservatory as I had driven along the park, looking for parking. I thought it charged admission, but was willing to pay for the visit. I was delighted to walk in and find it was as free as the boardwalk and zoo. I petted the leaves of a coffee plant, smiled at the face of a bat flower and admired gorgeous orchids I'd never even dreamed could exist.

Between appointments I went to Millennium Park. I walked across the winding ribbon of the BP Bridge wishing the company would be as considerate of the environment as they are of city pedestrians. I marveled at the new climbing walls and children's play areas. I caught a picture of myself in the mirror egg, wondering why everyone else stood with their backs to the mirrored surface while they mugged for selfies.

Work pulled my from the lovely parks, I walked the sidewalks with many people who all carefully did not look at each other. Somehow it seemed like they each walked alone in separate empty streets even though they walked shoulder to shoulder. I smiled, made eye contact and said hello to the brave and gregarious. I passed dejected folks in stained clothing with cardboard signs, drummers snapping out rhythms on snare drums and an incredible jazz band lost in a song at a congested intersection. I caught waves of asphalt and sewage city stink.

I found myself back in the throngs working my way to my car so I could go to the place I sought the most. Jackson Park. Parking at Millennium park and Lincoln Park was expensive, it ran about twenty dollars.

Jackson Park was different. Parking was three dollars and fifty cents for a couple of hours instead of twenty three. I walked around the whole park. Most people looked at me, I like to think it was because of my hat. There was a golf course, basketball courts, soccer fields, and the Osaka gardens I'd come to explore. I stood at the base of the approximately twenty foot tall statue that was gifted to Chicago, after the sixty foot tall original Statue of the Republic was destroyed in a fire. I sat underneath trees and enjoyed visualizing how different it was in 1893. No smartphone, no cars, most clothing handmade or natural fiber, electricity was still pretty new. No fast food or gas stations. Are you starting to picture it too? Gas lights on the corners and horses pulling carriages down streets.

I found a stone honoring Fredrick Douglass as he'd dedicated the first gazebo in the park. It wasn't large, I almost missed it. The park is being renovated to bring back native plants and animals so the gardens were closed. I walked the Bobolink trail, watching a comorant spread and stretch its wings before diving into the water.

I walked around the Science museum and met several friendly locals, who politely discussed the beauty of the day and the history of the park. The botanical gardens were recommended. Yvonne and I talked for almost an hour at my car. Jackson park might have historical significance, but it's low income area. My skin color stood out when I'd first walk up, but my smile and excited nerd babble found a warm welcome and my color quickly faded from thought.

Chicago, Jackson Park is your history, it is the spirit of your city. Take as good care of it as you do Lincoln Park. Do you know, the folks I met, who go to Jackson park often were unaware of it's history. They found it delightful that someone would come to the city just to see their park, they enjoyed learning about the park. It was a wonderful experience.

I have several more ventures into the city ahead of me. The botanical gardens and King Sauna are my motivations.

Where would you go? My journey was directed by history, literature, innovation, and music. Lincoln park, Millennium Park and Jackson Park.