PART TWO “Anybody got any money? Of course they don’t in this rich people town.” A wino drifts on and dances in the street, tossing an empty bottle into the bushes. Spiderman pedals along on a bike. Michael Jackson and Prince engage in a heated dance battle while Elvis sits on the curb eating a Philly cheesesteak. Drops of melted American stick to his suit, but somehow, he is still the king. A drug dealer offers me a swig of... Read more
Before I knew it, I had walked 24 miles. The act of climbing brings to mind visions of Moses and Bashō gazing upon the eternal. Moses got a front-row viewing of God’s glory. Bashō too had eyes to see, leaving behind a plethora of haikus that ruminate on the divine. Both have served as respites for an endless thread of wanders. In other miles, I tested the Lord, my God, absent-mindedly trekking through the terrain, nearly stumbling down the mountainside.... Read more
As a budding writer, I was drawn to the works of Hunter S. Thompson, particularly to the exploits of his infamous character, Raoul Duke. In my youthful naivety, I failed to appreciate Thompson’s brilliance and instead focused on emulating Duke’s drug-fueled escapades. And that is why I found myself in Sin City, complete with Gonzo garb and journalistic supplies. After witnessing the remnants of the legendary strip and the American dream that Hunter S. Thompson wrote about, I couldn’t help... Read more
A pilgrim tends to take the side streets and back roads, resisting the temptation to hurry. They prefer to walk instead of relying on modes of transportation like Uber or the subway. This approach enables the traveler to observe, reflect, and fully experience their surroundings. Read more
As I reflect on the countless highways that span this vast country, there is one that stands out as the ruler of my heart – Highway One. This particular stretch of pavement played a pivotal role in my spiritual journey, serving as the starting point for the cross-country trip that would ultimately lead to Emmaus. (An encounter with Jesus.) While some road trips had specific destinations in mind, such as a cozy cabin in Pescadero or a visit to... Read more
After rushing through matins, the monk fiddled with his prayer rope before urging me to start the car. For the past twenty years, he had devoted his life to prayer and contemplation, living according to the monastic rule, and assumed he would remain an ascetic until his final breath. However, the abbot had recently assigned him a new responsibility – to take over the duties of an elderly priest. I offered to go with him to make the transition smoother.... Read more
After graduating high school, I was determined to become a writer and moved to San Francisco to attend college and immerse myself in The City’s rich literary history. I’d frequent the haunts of past scribes, hoping their intercession with the poetry gods would bring me success and recognition. (Ahh, the folly of youth!) There is a societal expectation to obtain a degree, but I often felt like an outsider in lecture halls. An inner protest began to simmer within me... Read more
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