it's good to have options.

I’ve been learning lately. That’s good, right? I’ve taken a liking to having the ability to really provide for myself, to be more independent, (thus trying to learn more about sustainability), and have also been digging into the roots of what I believe as far as spirituality is concerned.

I want to preface this streamline of thought. It’s funny to write about these types of ‘adventures’, as opposed to my traveling ones. I find that it’s a lot more comfortable, and much easier to articulate the bizarre and wacky and profound that is experienced in exploring the world. It’s a bit more personal for me to write anything about what I’m about to. So bear with me, and forgive me if you don’t like it, please. And thank you!

Alas, let’s talk about independence and providing for one’s self. I’m not quite sure when I decided it was important, but I’ve certainly come to decide that it is. There’s something empowering and good about a simple life style. I’ve been lucky enough to know some people who live this out in a genuine manner. One being Patty, my dear farm host who taught me the ins and outs of gardening and compost last week. (She also gave me a crash course on how to love bunnies better. I quite liked this!) I guess I’ll take a moment to endorse WWOOF. It’s the World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms- wwoof.org. It’s almost like couchsurfing, but farmsurfing! You can hook up with hosts to learn different skills, crash at their place, and get fed. It’s a good deal. One of Patty’s previous volunteers has been wwoofing the world for a year now. I should find his blog and connect you to it. I’ll get on that.

Let’s get back on track! It’s also a good idea to produce less trash, isn’t it? I know how humongous the Columbus landfill is, and I’m doing my best not to add to it. This means buying less, being more conscious of how I can reuse things, and recycling what I can. It looks like I’ve addressed the 3 R’s. Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle. Did you also know there is a 4th R? It’s Re-think. If you’re anything like me, you love to re-think. Everything. Sometimes to the point of exhaustion!

I’ve also been learning to knit, to sew, and to cook more. It’s really special to give gifts and use things that have been made with your own hands. They’ve got more character too. It’s also really exciting to eat your own food. Even more so if you’ve grown what you’re eating. Makes me wish I could time travel and spend time with the Native American Indians. Doesn’t it?

That’s my simplicity soap box. I hate to write bunches, because I don’t think anyone has time to sit and read long posts. I don’t totally dig them myself. So I’m going to leave it at that, and write more on my spiritual findings later.

By the way, I’ve found that often times when you use less, you can give more. And giving is good.

“Live simply, so others may simply live.”

reading is as good as writing.

I've been really wanting to write and post, but just haven't felt all that inspired or able to articulate anything as of late. In turn, I've been reading more, and have re-visited some old things that I love. This is a piece from the book that my grandmother Betty was reading when she passed away.

I suggest you read this slowly, and take in it's imagery. I absolutely adore it.

Close to the Earth
(Alice Taylor)

Come to a quiet place,
A place so quiet
That you can hear
The grass grow.
Lie on the soft grass,
Run your fingers
Through the softness
Of its petals,
And listen:
Listen to the earth.
The warm earth,
The life pulse
Of us all.
Rest your body
Against its warmth;
Feel its greatness,
The pulse and throb,
The foundation
Of the world.
Look up into the sky,
The all-embracing sky,
The canopy of heaven.
How small
We really are:
Specks in the greatness
But still a part of it all.
We grow from the earth
And find
Our own place.

And so I write.

My blog has become a bit dormant upon my return to the States, and I can't say that I'm happy about it. When I have an urge to write, I often have an urge to blog, and vice versa. So I haven't been writing much. At all. Anywhere. Sigh.

This must change! I typically don't write unless I have something to write on, but I've decided that if I want my writing to become more beautiful over time, perhaps I should be disciplined in writing simply to write.

There is always something to reflect on, isn't there? The streams of water down a window pane, the taste of coffee in the afternoon. These are things I know in this moment. Perhaps I can write of it. And I will.

Alas, you can read if you want to. (You can leave your friends behind. 'Cause your friends don't read. And if they don't read, well, they're no friends of mine! Thank you Men at Work for invading my head.)

I thought that I saw a light shine.

There are nearly 7 billion human beings whose feet walk upon the globe. I think on who I know, and what I know of them. What a cornucopia of relationships make up our experience of life. Deep and broken in friendships, brief glances, secret admirers, beloved authors, baristas, familial bonds, Norwegian musicians. We are part of something beautiful.

Walking into a coffee shop, upon ordering a quick caffeine fix, I inquired about the script drawn across his arm. In Latin, "How quickly the glory of the world passes away." With an understanding heart and heavy thoughts, I entered into the sunshine happier for having met him.

We are incredible creatures. Even more so when we allow our souls to be exposed, if just for a moment.

It cannot be said enough, we are part of something oh so beautiful.

The sun it rises slowly as you walk.

“It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts.”

(Henry David Thoreau)

A friend of mine showed this quotation to me not too long ago, and I think on it nearly every day now. I think of the airport teller whose smile stretches as long as his native country, of the sunglasses far too big for the face of a little girl I caught sight of on the plane, of genuine smiles, kind words, polite gestures, and all of the things that either ease my day, or simply make it more beautiful, via human beings. It's really incredible to think of all the interactions that change my day, each day.

There are so many ways in which I can act, in turn, to be the kind of artist I desire to be. A painter of canvases covered in compliments, encouragements, thought-provoking questions. A sculptor of good deeds. A musician of songs that play generosity and compassion. And a writer of positivity. I think perhaps that's the kind of artist I'd like to be. Don't you?

Puppies go yip, yip, yip.

I've never been much of a daily blogger. In fact, my blogging abilities were once quite poor. But! It seems the winds are changing direction, and a writing/sharing season is upon me. And this (cyber)place has become a bit of an outlet. I've been coming across so many beautiful things, and thinking lots of thoughts, and have desired a place for them. So here I am! More often, that is.

I wanted to share a really fantastic and adorable artist I came across yesterday when I courageously tackled the Denver Art Museum. (Note: There is something incredibly powerful in being a witness to the emotional, creative, expressive, parts of another human being without ever meeting them face to face. My heart really fills when I experience pieces I'm able to connect with, laugh about, learn from.) Man, I love museums.

Alas, the artist! His name is Charley Harper (1922-2007). His pieces are sweet, structured, colorful. I get a kick out of his work!

Video frenzy.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm in the business of embedding videos as of late. So check this one out, for sure, and decide when you'll be heading to Southeast Asia with me.

a journey through asia from ivan vania on Vimeo.

Baleen Morning.

Some things are so beautiful that even words won't do. Your heart fills, remembers, imagines. And you just feel. That's where I am today.

Is this the part where you let go?

Today marks about a month. A month of living in the United States of America again, and a month of living without the life I came to love, adore, and live comfortably and cozy in. What has come of me, I wonder? And perhaps you do too. Which is why I'll write.

There is a song I've been listening to on repeat, and it speaks of the places in which you've lived, where you've laid your head, and of holding half an acre. I think of the acre of Thailand I hold, and will always, tight in whitened knuckles.



As for my acre? My acre is green, vast, and alive. My acre is not like anything I'd ever known, but it proved as welcoming as they come. I made some friends upon this acre. Some hung my laundry, others brewed me coffee when I was low, some sold me water and milk. Some of them even watched me cry, sat with me at the edge of my bed, and later made me laugh to better tears. I made a family there, and have been lonely for them. I've been lonely for little voices who mispronounce my name. Oh, what an acre. I've wanted to know the scent of that land deeply again. To take in it's fresh and lively perfumes that offered me great energy, that changed me, grew me. Is this the part where I let go? I'm certain I can't, and won't. I'll imagine the acre in my mind. And in the mean time, I'll explore this new acre of life ahead of me. It's budding with energy, and it seems to be beckoning me. Another half an acre of Ohio will simply have to do.

Oh, the acres knitted together. What a beautiful landscape, our life!

Somewhere over the earth.

I’ve returned from an exotic place I’ve been, and it’s a bit strange to speak of a ‘big adventure’ that has turned quickly from coconuts and calm to my knees sunk deep in Ohio snow. But, yes! This is adventure, too. So I’ve come to write.

What is the odyssey that has been coming home? My bed isn’t as stiff as it should be, my trips to grab a bite have become 10 miles too long, and the little voices that once called on me each morning fade more and more each moment. But I have come home. And I recall longing desperately for home, and all its comfort and familiarities. But it seems that I am someone I haven’t always been, and for this reason all is not what I expected. Is it ever?

When I stepped off the plane I remember thinking ‘Business, blue tooths, and Burger King’- this is what America is all about. But I realized the importance of putting on a lens in which I seek the beauty in this place. And I have indeed found it, in much time. There are friends whose arms reach lengths for me, family whose hearts seek to understand, there is a library where I can read and learn and grow, there are benches heaped in powder from the sky. Ohio is beautiful!

I’ve been waiting for and wanting a definition of home to offer you, but it hasn’t been coming easily. Is it the place you feel most comfortable? Perhaps. It’s where your family is? Well, now let’s define family. Is it where you come from? In this case, my home is Oklahoma. I’m not satisfied.

Now, I’m usually a bit of an editor. But because of all the energy I’ve sought in making something of ‘home’, with no luck, this will be a time in which I just write whatever comes. So bear with me! And read slowly, for it’s how I write.

Where the depths of sighs resound
and are heard
Tears caught in hands unclasped
Smiles recognized
Despite wrinkles that have come to rest aside them
Feet find their places to walk
and shoes to fill
Words nestle up to conversation
comfortably, anywhere

It’s where you’ve been all along
The part of you
With no name
no marker.
Always skimming
the lining that is home.

I am the tide!

Reaching for unfamiliar shores, I stretch myself thin across tan sands. For a time, I'm challenged and new- found wholly myself. The sun warms the beads inside of me, and I am alive!

But soon I'm found gripping and slipping land, I'm pulled, receding quickly. Unready to leave this newfound home, gravity invites me back to a place I once knew, and I choose to be enveloped willingly, for I know I'm leaving pieces of myself, and the land will not forget me. And I rest assured that the tide must always come in again!

Note from Laos.

The act of travel. (Dec. 30)

I’ve found a great adoration for traveling. Not the visiting of a place, which I too enjoy, but rather, the way in which we journey from one place to another. To be still and moving, gazing out a window pane, whether by bus or train, this is traveling. It’s viewing beauty that moves. It paints a picture inside our hearts, leaving a permanent impression upon us.

Traveling to Laos, this is what I saw. I admired the people for living with so little, while hoping in their health and happiness. I saw children working who should have been in school. But this is their inheritance, so drastically different than my own.

The landscape, breathtaking, affirmed my belief in a great maker who thought up this world; his attention to detail proving greater than any artist to be studied. And a great red ball tucked between a few clouds shone just enough to take in a few more breaths of the hillside.

And to meet eyes for a brief moment with one of these pieces, to interact with the picture, that is a feeling matchless. To be found out, to be forever connected to a place and time, to hold that glimpse forever somewhere in the boxes of memories we keep. I am a part of this place now! Halfway around the world, I reflect an image, a memory, to them, outside my window.

To view moving art, become a part of the piece, if I’m lucky, this is the kind of travel I’ve come to like.

A bit of nostalgia in pictures.

Goodbye, goodbye to everyone, it was nice to have you here!

Oh, if you didn’t know, I’m a list maker. I love to make to-do lists, and with the plethora of work I’ve had these past few weeks at work, I once even managed to make a to-do list for my to-do lists. The point is, I have planned on making lists of what I’ll miss, and what I’m looking forward to back home, for a while now. I often think to myself, “man, I’ll miss this, or gosh, I can’t wait to see this person,” so alas, my lists shall come to fruition today. I’ll keep ‘em at 10 bullet points for your sake.

Tears of sadness may be shed because I will miss. . .

1. Singing kiddie songs to the little ones including ‘the clean up song’, ‘who are the people in your neighborhood?’, all of the color songs, and ‘goodbye, goodbye to everyone.’
2. Daily sunshine. There wasn’t a day without it this entire year, I’m sure of it.
3. Greeting people with wais.
4. Working barefoot.
5. Being surrounded by the beautiful, inspiring things and people that are Thailand.
6. The rubber tree plantations that I’m convinced hold magical capabilities.
7. My terrific co-workers who get me, my humor, and who have allowed me to become part of their family.
8. Receiving/delivering encouraging and loving snail mail from/to dearest friends.
9. Two hour massages that go for $9 U.S. dollars.
10. Students calling me by names such as, Kru Hilaria, Hilaleen, Helen, and my personal favorite, Halloween.
11. Okay one more... his name is Dtin Dtin!



I might just cry for joy because I can’t wait to. . .

1. Flush toilets with a handle.
2. Delight myself in Ohio snow.
3. Hug my mom, my dad, my brother, and my sweet, sweet, friends who I haven’t seen for an entire year! Yikes!
4. Live a life sans mosquitoes, little red ants that bite, and other creatures that make life a little too uncomfortable.
5. Stuff my face with some good Western food whilst drinking delicious beer.
6. Go to the museum on Sunday.
7. Have the ability to walk out the front door and go for a jog.
8. See some delightful live music. Mmm!
9. Be with my Peacemakers again.
10. Reminisce on Thailand over good coffee.

The end of an era.

I have been a poor son of a blogger these past few months. I began many a blog/writing/note, yet my words never made it from paper to screen. But it isn't too late! I have seven days to catch you up on some observations, experiences, and other things I've written on as the time has gone by. I'll be sure to include the date of these little things, and I'll try to visit daily. Come travel back in time with me.

Voices (December 14, 2009)

Nestled in a corner upon a ferry island-bound, notes of dreamy voices from a distant place and time lulled me fast asleep. I saw golden temples bustling with orange robed monks, locals kneeling, hands prayerfully high for Siddartha. Incense offerings even blew through the boat cabin. I inched my eyes open a few moments later only to be delighted that in fact, I wasn’t dreaming up these spiritual sounds. Aged Thai lovers chanted prayers to one another quietly, a perfect companion to my sleep.