Seatless in Seattle

Dear Blog,

I am spending some time off the bicycle seat. To my great fortune, I am staying with some of my cousins, Marvin, Kathleen, Caitlin, and Margaret. Marvin and Kathleen are the parents of Caitlin (junior at Mt. Holyoke) and Margaret (freshman at Mt. Holyoke). They have been incredibly generous and welcoming, offering me a guest room in their home on Mercer Island, and taking good care of me. I must admit, this is not how I pictured my big adventure, my Grand Tour turning out, but I am definitely having new experiences. And as good ole mama reminded me, there is a reason things are turning out the way they have so far. For example, I am building relationships with four fellow Brookes whom I otherwise would have only thought of as cousins.
I returned to Seattle on the same day as planned, but the journey was a little more exciting than I had expected. Because public transportation wasn't going to be able to get me back to Seattle at a reasonable time, I decided to take a bus to Port Townsend and try my hand at hitch hiking. So I went to a hardware store, bought myself a sharpie, took some cardboard out of their recycling bin and made some nice bubble letters that said: Seattle? Bainbridge??
It was strange. Most folks wouldn't even look at me, not to mention read my sign. It occurred to me then that the thing to do when you see someone panhandling or anything of that sort, is to acknowledge them. Even if you don't plan to give anything, you should look at him or her, smile, nod, or give a thumbs up. But averting your eyes or ignoring is insulting. In my life I have often simply ignored the person standing on the corner, and for different reasons, I'm sure. Not wanting to make eye contact for fear that social psychological forces will compel me to feel guilt or discomfort and end up giving money is chief among them. But if I really don't want to give money or time, I should be sure of it (and myself) enough to be able to make a connection with the person. But not looking or ignoring is denying any human connection. It is making assumptions about the person, defaulting on heuristics that necessarily leave out trying to understand the person's situation. The man or woman holding the sign is still a person (and this is an important and obvious epiphany I have made working with the homeless), and being without certain things (car, home, hooch) is often only a matter of circumstance that really just affects the way the person appears in that moment.
Wow, I definitely didn't plan on writing that little manifesto, but I guess I'm glad I did.
So eventually I heard a voice coming from an old pick up truck wearing a canoe as a hat in the McDonald's parking lot. The guy inside asked me what I was doing, I told him I was injured from a bike tour and was trying to get back to Seattle. He stroked his goatee for a moment and said, "I guess I could go to Seattle." So I threw my load into his truck and he drove me back to his house. His name was Nate, he does construction, and he's done plenty of hitch hiking of his own. He has a baby (almost 2) named Israel. After we unloaded the truck and took the cooler full of the crabs he pulled up from his traps (he checks them twice a day in his canoe), we rode bikes to his wife's work, which turned out to be the coolest breakfast spot right on the water. We got some coffee, I got some sweet potato, beef stew, and we chit chatted a bit, waiting for Emily to get off work. Then we went to a pub/ restaurant in the old down town district (super beautiful and quaint). I normally don't use the word "quaint." It seems to pretentious or something. But downtown Port Townsend is quaint and I'm sure it wouldn't mind me saying so. We sat around for a couple of hours, playing with Israel and I got to meet Emily's sister and her boyfriend. Then we went back to Nate and Emily's house and cooked the crabs. This is a cool memory. I learned a thing or two about crabs. Before he cooked them, Nate pulled the backs off the live crabs with the swiftness and nonchalance of an expert. He then folded the body in half and rinsed the innards out in the sink. Apparently this is a painless way for the crabs to die. It sure beats throwing them in a pot of boiling water where they rip each other's limbs off misplacing blame for the scathing heat. Apparently crabs also taste better when you clean out the guts and stuff. So that was interesting. Then it was time to feed and we ate crab for a little while until Nate had to go to band practice. By this time I was wondering if I would have been better off taking public transportation back to Seattle. But I went to his back practice, which transpired next door in his boss's music studio/ construction office/ headquarters. I worked the start/stop buttons in the recording studio while the three-man band went through a few songs. They were kind of a reggae/ alternative rock/ David Byrne-y band. So after band practice, Nate, Emily, Israel and I left for Bainbridge. As we entered the little town, I was beginning to feel a little concern for where I was going to stay in Seattle. But the universe conspired to send me a little "Way Opens" miracle. I looked out the window to see Chelsea, Adam's good buddy and one of our traveling companions in Port Angeles biking her way down the road. As it turned out, we were boarding the same ferry back to Seattle, and she offered me her place to sleep. Synchronicity!!! We were starving by the time we reached her place in Capitol Hill and made quesadillas that probably should have been patented. I don't know whether to give credit to Nate for his laid-back treatment of time commitments, the message from Paolo Coelho's The Alchemist where the universe conspires to help you achieve your desires, or just plain coincidence, but I know what I should be taking from it and many of the other "way open" moments I have experienced this trip. I should learn (and am learning) to try to let go of the antsiness that comes with having a destination (literal of metaphorical) yet to be reached. That has been a major theme of the trip. Thing are relatively stable right now, but for most of the trip, it was never clear where I would be sleeping any given night, where I would find food, if I was going to have a bike, etc. But a quote that I read from Don Jose Maria (the founder of the Mondragon Cooperatives) has found its way into my mind over and over again. He said: We have recognized that theory is necessary, yes, but it is not sufficient; we build the road as we travel. Sometimes I substitute the "theory" for "planning." It's a nice quote, capturing the traveling element, which I will hopefully incorporate back into my life shortly.
The first day back in Seattle I went out to lunch with the cousins and had my first crumpet. Those are really good. My sister, Jessica was so right. That night I slept in Chelsea's bed and he slept in the front yard (her choice) and I woke up from the most vivid dream. Perhaps I am showing too much of the nether regions of my psyche, but I will share this dream.
I spent the entire dream going through normal life situations, but in deep, self pitying depression. Everything I did seemed to fail and bad luck happened upon me at every turn. I would break down in deep sobs and wander directionless and useless. At some point I was in the desert with the boys and Devin was cracking eggs. I wanted to crack one, as in some strange dream logic, a successful egg would redeem my worth in some way. Devin warned me not to drop it. Well I cracked the egg right into the sand. That was it for me. I walked away and sat down next to this demolished graffiti'd building. A shirt with graffiti caught my eye. It said:
Love.
Yes, or no?
Well, then in the dream, it hit me. Love apparently is something that can be chosen. Which means it is an action, rather than something that happens to you or someone. A verb, rather than a noun. And it was clear that I needed to make the choice to give myself love and thus I would grow, secure in my worth and value, being able to spread love where ever I go.
So I have been thinking about love a bit lately, with help from a book I am reading called "All About Love" by bell hooks. It's good stuff.
Today I took a bike ride around Seattle and my knee started hurting pretty badly. That was frustrating because I was on a bike that fits me. See, I traded bikes with Chelsea, as she is going to work on a farm for the rest of the summer. This replacement bike fits much better, but apparently my knee doesn't discriminate against different bikes. Fortunately, Marvin is a doctor and after some poking and prodding, informed me that I have damaged some cartilage under my knee and need to rest and do some simple strengthening exercises.
Well, gosh. So of course, I called up the boys who are in Vancouver and told them to take their time on their trip. No need to come back to Seattle for a while. I wonder when I will become a burden for my cousins. I think tomorrow I will start looking through craigslist to see if I can find some work. Maybe picking berries??
Well, I have said too much. Thanks for making it this far down the page with me.
If you're reading this, I probably miss you. But I am enjoying this down time and getting to know my cousins. I am eating exceptionally well and feeling pretty good about things. My head is rather clear and my lungs are enjoying the fresh air here.
David, out!