The Adventure Continues

My five nights in Barcelona were magical: topless beaches; lighted fountain show with music; world cup win; tapas & sangria with locals; late night wandering through old roman ruins; Gaudi; Spanish guitar and cello.

I flew from Barcelona to Marrakesh. The next days I took to the Atlas Mountains for a six day trek. The mountains taught me something I already knew; life must be lived one step at a time. To look at the summit is futile and foolish, you might lose your footing. Looking to the past is also pointless, we must journey forward always. The mountains taught me to focus on the present. My mountain mantra kept me going. I synced each step with each internal word: one - step - at - a - time.

After the mountains I stayed in Marrakesh a night. I met Ken, a school teacher from New Mexico, whose traveling the world on a year sabbatical. Inspiring. Najeeb - the riad (hostel) manager - came up to the terrace to ask if we wanted to go to the gym. A few street corners later, Moroccan hip-hop with sweaty men and cheesy posters of waterfalls all intermixed to create a truly enjoyable cultural experience.

From Marrakesh I bused to Todra gorge. I met Brahim on the bus who offered to let me stay at his place for a price... which grew into a rip off. That said, the cultural experience was priceless. I got some insight into the traditional Todra way of life. The next day we hiked the gorge through the 6km oasis, which was also sick. Ate fresh figs, tomatoes, and nuts along the way. We made it past the gorge and chilled in the freshwater nearby to enjoy the phenomenal view. Since it wasn't tourist season, we had the place all to ourselves.

Now I'm Erfoud. The desert. I have learned that you can - in fact - cook an egg on a rock. The desert is - obviously - fucking hot. The previous statement does nothing to convey what I mean by "hot." I'm chillin' (if one can "chill" in the desert...)with a peace corp volunteer here. Just what I needed. So far my stay in Morocco has been, outside of the Atlas mountains, plagued by pseudo hospitality. I am prejudiced and judged constantly. For the most part, I'm perceived as a walking wallet. It's okay though, I'm use to it and that which doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. I am not bitter.


I have 14 days left. If life has taught me anything, this time will feel both like an eternity and a blink of an eye. Time is such a slippery devil. To life!

Tao & Buddhist Poems

COMPASSION:

The sages have told that generosity is illuminating.

It erases the limits of yours and mine.

Erasing the limits of yours and mine,

opens the heart

to receive the Tao as one's self.

Everything belongs to the Tao

and is the Tao

from beginningless time until forever.

No one gives to another, it only appears to be so.

The one who receives is the one who gives.

Though there is no profit in offering,

How clean the ego-sense washes away

when one gives without being noticed.

WISDOM:

Genuine wisdom is functional.

To know is not enough.

If knowing the 'way' is all you have,

you have nothing.

Until you have woven wisdom into your daily life,

and step-by-step

you are able to access clear understanding

at the exact right moment,

well, you have only knowledge.

And that means you have nothing.

Knowledge applied is wisdom,

and that is the shining light of freedom.

Wisdom applied is insight,

is freedom reaching beyond understanding

what wisdom actually is.

Two Years Later

Talk about procrastination; haven't written here in two years. So what do I write about now? Do I even attempt to summarize the time between ages 19-21. Ahhhahahahaahhahahahahaahell no.
I'm back in Uganda. Take three. I've been thinking about death recently. When you ride a boda-boda (motorcycle taxi) around the third world... this is inevitable. Traffic in Kampala is ridiculous! Poor infrastructure + lack of traffic laws + boda-bodas = potential death everywhere. They whip and zip without a care. They swarm like flies, except more annoying because you know they have the capacity for reason and logical thinking. You hit them and they'll scream at you, especially if you are a muzungu ("white person" or "foreigner").

So why was I riding a boda-boda? Well I met David - aka "De Alien" - at a party a couple of weeks ago. We discussed many things. I learned he was a local Ugandan artist. A rapper who spits about the political situation he and his fellow citizens are forced to endure. A day later he calls me:

De Alien: Hello Bryan? Hi this is De Alien.
Bryan: Excuse me? De what? Who is this?
De Alien: De Alien, from tha partee.
Bryan: ... David?
David: Yes! How are you?
Bryan: Oh! I'm good man. Just chillin' what's up?
David: I want you to rap.
Bryan: Ahahahahahhahahahahahahahahhahahahahahaha.

So the following week I met David at the studio; a mental container with a lock located in the maze of Kampala's back roads. I couldn't help but doubt myself. What the fuck are you doing here Bryan? I had no idea where I was; I was tired & hungry; the lyrics I wrote only hours before were - obviously - terrible.

I met Cesar, David's friend and co-rapper, in the waiting lounge; a smaller metal container next to the studio. Both guys were incredibly passionate about singing. I respect both of them greatly; this is their dream and they're pursuing it despite the lack of facilities. They also made me understand how hard it is to pursue such a career here in Uganda.

We walk into the studio. Another group is finishing up. Three hours later they are still finishing up. A man, however, pops in the door and eyes the hunger-stricken muzungu. He asked me if I wanted samosas. A godsend, thank Horus! I bought six. Ate two and shared the rest. Cold and stale they were the best damn samosas I've ever eaten. Then the power went out and I was forced to ride a boda-boda home. As they say, T.I.A. (This Is Africa).

Bobbing on the back, angry at something I had absolutely no control over, I eased my grip. I realized if we got in an accident holding on wasn't gonna save me. So I sunk back into a deep contemplation. Fuck it, if I die I die - I'll just hope I don't. Death, afterall, lives in my shadow. Inseparable from myself, I could not have life now without death later. So on the last stretch of road home, I spread my arms and closed my eyes. I let all my anger fly away as the wind blew under my wings. I remember thinking:

I will fly 'till I die.