Happy Town

Unusual, happy experiences occur every day in Eugene, and I have been unable to find the words to describe them. I will continue to try to get something down, but for now, just a few pictures...

Eugene Summer Walk

In Eugene, OR, on a late summer day, I hesitate my steps so that I can look closely at two large trees, and the scent they throw down settles firmly into the road. I am walking north on High Street, my destination the downtown library. I watch bikers and runners pass, and to my left something seems out of place. My gaze settles upon a black and white mural which contrasts with the vibrant summer colors which liven the town. I step off the road and wander to the painting, its size and mood unsettling. The European feel and the curving, narrow road which is built upon a hill, closed off by tightly fitted buildings, brings to mind Montmartre, Paris. The solitary figure clad in black, ideas and images filling his lonely jaunt, could be a suburban Sartre who wanders dark alleys dreaming of freedom, or a depressed Van Gogh contemplating the deficiencies of his palette as he nears the entrance to his brother's apartment. Beyond the gray linear lines of the wall, clouds recline against a blue sky and I decide to continue my walk. 

When I cross into the business district I turn left onto Broadway and pass an alley in which a monumental mural teems with color, texture, and shape. I turn into the alley and see a man sitting in a chair, his tired gaze piercing the wall. I saunter over cracked concrete, allowing my eyes to focus on both small and large things. A memory is reflected, a time when I worked in the Chicago Loop. On my lunch hour I would sometimes sit before the Chagall "Four Seasons" mosaic, eating a sandwich and contemplating the rich detail contained in each polished fragment of glass and stone. After many return visits I pieced together the story of the seasons, and to make sense of what is now before me will require the same patience and concentration.

I turn to the man and start a conversation. His name is Hans, and he tells me he is the artist. The mural  is a scene of heroes and villains, a Shakespearean odyssey unfurled upon a forlorn wall. Four youths dressed in black approach, and Hans wanders over to them. I am left alone to ponder the immensity of his creation. Colors and shapes play hide and seek, and I imagine what his hands will create with the remaining white space of his gritty canvas. I notice the clouds again, still reclining against the summer blue. I have a book to return, and the library is only a few blocks away....

Angels, Doorways, Passages

"Life is a balance between throwing out and inviting in. You are just a passage. Share! Give, and more will be given to you. Be a miser, don't give, and less will be given to you because you don't need it." Osho

I have entered a place where...there is light - perhaps a bit of happiness, the absence of fear, a letting go of the desire for... anything. I left the states six months ago, six short months, and I have become something - richer for having given things up, illuminated for having entered a mysterious, dark dream. Without wanting it, yet joyful to experience it - smiles, love, happiness arrive. People speaking words which enter my consciousness like darts hitting a target - Angels, Doorways, Passages. I am passing into something - good or evil, light or dark, I won't choose, I will accept the outcome with open eyes and a tender heart...

Went in search of a guitar today. Walked 1 mile to the Amazon Trail and across the road a man named Phil lives in a small apartment. I knock, he opens. He is a large man with a soft demeanor. I sit on his sofa, picking up the guitar, a cheap strat, but a good color (black). The amp a 15w Fender. I plug in, happy to be holding a guitar in my hands. I strum a few chords and when I slide up the board to play a few blue notes I hear Phil say "wow, nice." He is impressed with my play, even though I am not doing much. I realize at that moment that I have reached a level which is not easily accessible. While I am far from being a competent musician, my confidence holding the instrument, the ease with which my fingers move along the frets, and the occasional sweet blue sound of the strings is something which I could not have achieved without a lot of practice, and I am guessing it is the same for others.

Being in a twilight state of being, events continue to unfold in a quasi-religious drama. Phil questions me about my practice, how I have achieved certain things. I begin to explain and soon realize it sounds like a lesson. I stop myself and decide to buy the guitar. We continue to talk and then Phil offers me a ride to the local music store. Since I want to buy an input cord for the amp, and a set of strings, I accept his friendly offer. As we ride across town I learn a few things about Phil. He is 28 years old, has a son, is divorced. Works at a hospital and goes to seminary school. He plays guitar, mainly strumming, and sold his electric to me because he could not connect with it. He once played triple A baseball, but an injury stopped him from making it to the majors. He has lived in Eugene most of his life, and he loves it - "it rains all the time, but we joke that it is our sun." At the music shop I chat with a female clerk who tells me she once lived in Vegas, and recently moved to Eugene and loves it. The shop sells the input cords but they are out of stock, so I compensate by buying a package of blues strings. Phil buys a set of drum kits for his son. On the way home we agree it would be fun to jam together, and when he drops me at KC's he tells me to call him anytime.

Settling in with the guitar - I study the amp, tune the strings, and do an hour set of blues songs. Holding it, getting the fingers going, creating music - it contains a similar quality to running - sound creating a landscape to move through, thoughts and emotions and blood flowing - angels, doorways, passages hovering, waiting for me, to finally... walk in.

"Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realize 'The stars are words' and all innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, and so is this world too. And I realize that no matter where I am, whether in this little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it's all in my mind. There's no need for solitude. So love life for what it is, and form no preconceptions whatever in your mind." - Jack Kerouac from Lonesome Traveler

Letter to Rachel - Eugene, When a door opens....

Dear Rachel,

The family left yesterday afternoon, the trip is getting more peculiar with each passing day. The Country Fair is going on this weekend, it is a 3 day event, not like a regular county fair in the midwest, but similar to a Burning Man type of thing. You buy a $20 ticket at Safeway and then get bused out to the grounds, which is a scenic wooded area. KC mentioned something about not minding the nudity?! She had 3 friends drive down from Portland and they set up tents in the backyard, then went to the fair yesterday. Everyone was trying to convince me to go, that it was foolish to miss it, but having just arrived in town I am more interested in just running and walking about, exploring and learning the streets. So I did not go. Last night the three friends came back from the fair, by this time the family had left for the airport to go to France, so it was just me, the dog, goldfish, and the 3 friends. They are all laid back and nice, a bit older than me. One woman, Catherine, showed me her videos of the fair, which were pretty good, lots of hippy type stuff and arts/music. We got to talking and she said if I wanted to visit Portland after Eugene I could stay at her place. I did not think she was serious, but she gave me her card and the next morning she mentioned it again. I told her I did not want to impose, but she said I would not, so I said maybe sometime in September, and she replied she would be visiting her father so I could house sit for a week if I wanted. She lives next to a huge wooded park, according to her it is the largest urban park in the USA, dwarfing Central Park in NYC. She said trail runners love it. I asked if everyone in Oregon is this friendly, or did I just get lucky in meeting KC - haha - KC seems well loved by all. The 3 friends left this morning, so now it is just me, the dog, and 3 gold fish.

I am going to look at a guitar this afternoon.

Went running on the Amazon Trail 2 days ago, which led me to the Ridgeline Trail, which goes up into the wooded hills. I saw a sign warning of bears and cougars, the last piece of advice it gave was "if attacked, fight back" - comforting! So I wended up Spencer Butte, the douglas firs massive. Up and up, but then I made a wrong turn and ended up going in the direction of Mt. Baldy. I turned around and decided not to climb the 2 miles to the summit of Spencer because by that time I had already run 6 miles. This morning I ran Pre's Trail in Alton Baker Park, very scenic and quiet. The Willammette, (wi-lamb-it, I called it the willa-met and KC laughed) which the park is next to, is clean, fast flowing, and gorgeous.

I walked to Safeway yesterday to get some supplies. Everyone I passed was smiling and happy, and just as many people running and biking as driving. I was reminded of the Chevy Chase movie where the town is trying to sell him a house, so they all smile and are friendly and helpful, but it is all a con, haha. I did see one man who was irritated, but it was because of me, I was walking in the middle of the sidewalk, I guess in Oregon bikes can ride on sidewalks, because he said "move to the side, move to the side!".

KC brought me around town yesterday before leaving. We stopped at a bookstore and I bought 4 postcards - I found out there is no sales tax in Oregon - sweet! (just checked my receipt from Safeway, no tax, so saved about $3, which makes up for the slightly more expensive food prices). 5 blocks from the house is an organic store, similar to Strawberry Fields. Lots of good stuff there, I bought Chia seed juice drinks - yum. There are many local beers, I have tried a couple so far, very tasty. Two Indian restaurants within a mile of the house, I went to one on Friday, it was just as good as Bombay Grill.

Nights are cool, days are warm. Catherine told me not to be fooled, once summer is over it will be months and months of gray skies and rain.

Eugene's grade after 4 days - A

Included are some random pics to show you the lay of the land - even the graffiti is happy in Eugene :)

Love, Jim

Arriving in Eugene

Willamette River I

Willamette River II

Where I stopped to read a few pages of Kerouac

Suspension Bridge for Pedestrians

Graffiti

Casey

Letter to Rachel - Holy Hostel

Dear Rachel,

Perfect weather here in Chicago. I have done a lot of walking and running during my two days here. This morning I ran over to the old Meig's Field, called Northerly Island, or Maggie Daily Park. When I got near the Planetarium I could not locate the park and asked passing runners if they knew how to get there. Nobody had heard of it, one guy completely ignored me, another almost got hit by a bike after speaking with me. I walked around without any luck, asked another person who looked just as confused as the others, but when I mentioned it was the old Meig's Field, his face lit up, and said "Oh yeah, it is over that way, but I think it is just a large parking lot". I was not impressed when I heard it was still paved over, but I had gotten that far, so I decided to jog over to it, and found that the guy knew the location, but had obviously never visited. I found a large prairie field, with a single paved bike path looping the center. I saw 3 or 4 bikers on the path, and nobody on the dirt prairie trails. It was nice to have some solitude, and I saw two rabbits and a red winged black bird, which is unheard of in Chicago, haha. I then ran north and stopped at Belmont Harbor. I walked to our old apt and saw that it is going to be a bar called "Revoluzion". I walked into T.I. and bought a breakfast of raspberries, yogurt, Cliff Bar, chocolate milk, chia seed juice (!), banana, and a small bottle of kefir. I took the food back to the park at the harbor and sat in the shaded grass and had a little picnic. I walked to the bus stop in front of Temple Shalom, which is where I used to pick up the bus in the summer's to go to Morningstar. I jumped on a 145 Express and watched the lake go by, remembering the emotions of so many years ago. I got off at my usual stop next to Water Tower Place on Michigan Ave, stopped in the old church one block away and listened to organ music while reading a few proverbs, then I sauntered down the Magnificent Mile and then back to the hostel. I was planning to take a nap but I still had energy, and knowing I had to get up at 2:45am, decided it was best not to nap, so I took the Red Line subway back to Belmont, and walked around looking for an Indian Restaurant. Standard India is no more, and the two other Indian restaurants in the area are also gone. The day before I ate at Hema's Indian restaurant on Clark, which I found by chance, and it was excellent. I decided to walk to it and have lunch there again. By this time I had walked/ran almost 15 miles, so my appetite was getting large. I ordered 2 samosas, sag paneer, rice, naan, and a Coke. I finished everything except a 1/4 of the naan. I was planning to take the bus back to the hostel, since it was 3 miles away, but I still felt good, so started walking, and 90 minutes later made it to the hostel.

About the hostel - clean, fun and polite employees, and my 9 roomies did not make a peep last night. Right now I am in my room and two others are here, and they are asleep at 7:21 pm. I will also soon be sleeping. I was thinking the shared bathroom would be a drag because the entire floor uses the same one, but every time I have been in it, it is has been empty. So my first hostel experience has been a positive one.

Tomorrow I will be in Eugene for a new adventure.

Included are some pictures I made along the way yesterday....

Love, Jim