Nomadic Zen – A Vagabond’s Guide To Happiness

Hey everyone. Remember me? Everyone’s favorite Dharma Bum?

That’s right.

I haven’t abandoned this project yet. It’s been tough to write about San Diego because so much is still going on here. However my time here is coming to an end. In a couple days the wind will blow and off I’ll be back at home on the road.

It’s hard to really piece together what has happened over the past 2 months. I’ve met so many amazing people. Seen so many amazing sights. Done so many amazing things. I can’t even really tell you how it has all effected me in words. Though I will say this; understanding exists in a realm outside of language. Language is just the tool to share it.

I was given the book “On the Road,” by Jack Kerouac because everyone on earth thinks I should have read this book by now. I finished one day at Black’s Beach in San Diego before handing it over to my friend Anastasia who was in town from Russia.

The most memorable thing I can tell you about that book is the reference Dean Moriarty makes to Sal Paradise that those 2 understand time. And when you understand time you no longer are a slave to it. To be free from time is to control time. One day it hit me like a ton of bricks and I caught a glimpse of understanding what that means.

I’ve loved and lost and lived and died here in this city. I spent nights homeless, days begging, and in betweens wandering and rambling like a madman. I’ve befriended the poor, the rich, and one guy who said “You don’t need money in life. Just a positive attitude.” I drank cheap beer at dirty bars and a 14 year old Irish stout in the swanky place down the road. I camped out on beautiful beaches in Mexico and even slept on the streets in Los Angeles. I’ve seen countless sunsets, sunrises, and once I watched the moonset over the Pacific. I’ve basked in the sun, wallowed in sorrow, and have started to learn how to swallow my pride. I’ve eaten delicious homemade Indian food, fresh baked goods, and bacon that I couldn’t refuse for fear of insulting another culture. I’ve partied with the Mexicans, Russians, Italians, Australians, Kiwis, Finnish, Irish, English, Filipinos, Canadians, French, and realized that we really are more similar than different. I’ve learned a few Spanish phrases, some west coast slang, and had some of the most beautiful conversations with those I can barely understand.

I remember when I was hitching out of Austin I thought I was in over my head. I had moments that I was ready to give this all up and go home. Go back to that comfortable life because the unknown of the road was too much for me. I don’t want to say I’m glad I didn’t go home because who knows what would have played out back in Michigan. Right now though I question whether it was a test to see if I was worthy of this moment I’m experiencing right now. Who cares though?

I’ve received a few phone calls, emails, messages, and smoke signals from friends far and away telling me all sorts of things that warm my cockles. So many tell me that they’re so proud that I stuck to my guns no matter how crazy the world thought I was. I had a dream for myself that wasn’t shared by anyone I knew when I envisioned it and I sought out to make it a reality. In the process I’ve inspired people to live out their dreams and that means more to me than these silly letters can ever represent. I know there are a handful of people out there wandering the world sharing my love and passion for life and they blame me for it. I showed them it was possible and I fueled their hearts with my stories.

As a Paramedic I wanted to save the world. As a bum I’m actually doing it.

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