Archives for posts with tag: walking

Hello, friends and family, old and new,

How are you today? Did you notice the new moon yesterday? I actually haven’t seen the moon in days… and I’ve been living outdoors and looking for it every day.

I’ve gone from days in the forest to days in a smallish town, to Washington, D.C. I’m sitting on the national mall as I write this. It’s a little surreal, actually, to be in a place of such… mythic importance to the culture I come from and modern empire. I’ll tell you stories from each place soon enough, but today I want to share something different with you.

I’ve been craving time at a piano. Every time I enter a new place, some part of me is always asking, “is this the sort of place that has a piano? It should be.” Well, Sunday, the Lutherans in Gaithersburg let me use their gorgeous instrument after their services were over, and I made a few scratch recordings to share with you.

It’s all pretty laid back. In fact, I think of the first two songs as lullabies. Why is the Desert so Lovely is from the Little Prince musical (with Gene Wilder). Tender Shepherd is from the Peter Pan musical. I played Michael Darling in it when was about 7 years old, and this song always stuck with me. I guess that was my first performance experience.

The Lone Wild Bird is a hymn I learned from my friend Aimee Wilson. It’s been on my mind lately as I have been trying to spend time in nature:

The lone wild bird in lofty flight
Is still with you nor leaves your sight
And I am yours, I rest in you
Great Spirit, come, rest in me, too.

The Water is Wide is probably the best known of the bunch. I want thinking of the progression of verses as I played through it this time; I was just looking for variety, but check out the marvelous descent from love to heartache in the lyrics.

And finally, there’s an improvisation on the spot. I had no idea what I was going to play when I hit record.

So there you are. Something a little different. Please let me know what you think.

Your wandering minstrel,

Joby

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This is one of my very favorite poems. It’s from When We Were Very Young by A. A. Milne (yes, the guy who wrote about Winnie-the-Pooh). 

I started my morning journaling about what could be next in my trip and I realized that I’m living this poem out more than I ever had before. 

My most obvious choices appear to be to go into Washington, go back to the woods, or just go wherever my feet take me. I still haven’t decided. 

spring1

Spring Morning

by A. A. Milne

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
Down to the streams where the king-cups grow –
Up to the hill where the pine-trees blow –
Anywhere, anywhere, I don’t know

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You’d sail on the water as blue as air,
And you’d see me here in the fields and say:
“Doesn’t the sky look green today?

Where am I going, The high rooks call:
“It’s awful fun to be born at all,”
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
“We do have beautiful things to do.”

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You’d lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You’d say to the wind when it took you away:
“That’s where I wanted to go today!”

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow –
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.
spring2

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Hello, friends,

Are you well? I’ve been so immersed in this wedding celebration and spending time with everyone here that I haven’t kept you up to date. I’ll tell you more about it later (and I haven’t forgotten that I owe you stories from my hitchhiking earlier in the month).

Right now, I just wanted to send you a quick note to say that the walking has started. I’ve said my goodbyes and spent some time alone centering myself and I’ll spend at least an hour or two walking today without any destination in mind. I’ve already spent some time walking on this property and in a rustic labyrinth. I thought it was a beautiful sign of the idea that the walking is the thing, more important than the destination.

I think I’m about 30 miles from Washington, D.C., and I might well wind up there in a day or two. Right now that’s not what I want. I’d like more solitude for reflection and vision-seeking.

Anyhow, I figured I’d let you know that I’m still alive and well and following through on this crazy idea. I’d love to hear from you. What are you dreaming of? How can you make it happen?

Godslow,

Joby