May 30, 2017. Prague, Czech Republic. Palmovka metro station. The hollow, metallic morning rush hour din. Air heavy with unified intent: to arrive at a prearranged somewhere. A battered public telephone’s ring seeps through the crowd. Its invitation goes unnoticed. I pass it by, then pause and turn around. Operational public telephones still exist? Who is calling a metro station? I take a deep breath and reach out. A tingle of apprehension. The ringing ceases just before my hand touches the grimy black receiver. My hand falls to my side. A pang of regret as I continue on my way. Even if I had answered, would I have understood? I speak only the most basic Czech. I may not have picked up the phone in time, but I sure got the message: do not hesitate when you are called. Or be left wondering forever.
It was sometime during my time in Los Angeles, back in the early 1990s, when I began to drift. I could barely afford rent, let alone recreation. My mental health was not conducive to socializing. And so I walked. Around my neighborhoods of Brentwood and West Hollywood. All the way to Santa Monica and sometimes Pacific Palisades, Beverly Hills, or Westwood. The steady rhythm of my feet on the pavement. The immersion into the elusive soul of LA - the vibrant billboards of Sunset Boulevard, the gritty detergent stench of the omnipresent smog, the erratic sermons of sidewalk preachers. These micro adventures kept me alive. This form of meditation has been a part of my life ever since.
What propels certain individuals to set sail on a journey into the unknown? Like the early explorers of our planet, we are motivated by an obsession that transcends curiosity. In this age of satellite maps, we now know what lies beyond the horizon. Yet some of us continue to voyage as a means of discovery. It takes courage to venture into the uncharted territory of the psyche. To navigate the maelstroms, evade the pirates, slay the monsters of the deep. There is still a risk of falling off the edge.
Long ago, I set off to explore the world. I wanted to go everywhere, experience everything. I’ve spent much of my adult life wandering this magnificent planet in search of that elusive place within: Here. The present. Now. That calm state of mind that slips through the grasp like water. It has been an erratic circumnavigation, but I’ve found much hidden treasure. My writing is a message in a bottle tossed into the virtual sea. May it find its way to those who need to read it.
Back roads through small towns. Vibrant murals on decaying brick. My brother Grant pilots my car while I peer out the window. Heads turn to watch us pass. Expressions of friendly curiosity. Out of state license plates are usually only seen on Indiana’s interstate highways. Passing through. Stopping only to fuel up, eat, or spend the night in generic lodging establishments. Today is a special day, however. Hundreds of thousands of visitors have converged on Indiana. Pilgrims to a celestial event. Most of them will congregate in stadiums or at planned events. An introvert’s worst nightmare.
I have chosen a place away from the crowds. A tiny church and graveyard deep in rural territory. Thank you, Google Street View.
Space. I am floating on my back, staring into the void. Where have all the stars gone? In my head, I hear, “It will be a rocket.” I turn my head to look over my right shoulder. The Earth is underneath me. Its rotation almost imperceptible. A rocket emerges from the darkness. It pierces the pristine blue orb. It is the apocalypse. It is the end.
A shrill ringtone awakens me. I open my eyes to pre-dawn murk, ease myself out of bed, and reach for my phone. Alarm off. A notification announces that I received a text from my brother Grant sometime during the night. The text is simply a link to an article about an upcoming screening of The Wrath of Khan in Detroit. Special guest William Shatner will have a Q&A with the audience following the screening. I read through the article with an amused sigh. Nothing like starting the day with some synchronicity. The article states that Shatner has recently visited space. I rarely hear about such things, as I have never owned a television during my adult life, and I have not done social media for years.
A famous temple. The Year of the Pig. I drift amid worshippers, hypnotized by the chanting, the incense, the high-pitched music. How is it that I came to be here? I sit for a while and let time vanish.
Then it’s into the streets again. My footsteps lead me to a portal that leads into a corridor of shops. A flash of recognition. I halt. Long ago, I wandered into this alley of horrors. Snake Alley. The live snake-gutting shows and booths selling cruel cures for impotence and other embarrassing ailments have been replaced by nail salons and mobile phone shops. A couple of snake restaurants remain.
Four years have passed, but it seems like another lifetime ago. I had all but given up hope that I’d ever feel your arms around me again. The gates of the world slammed shut. I had no choice but to let you go.
Winter: this one so cold, dark, eternal. Outside the window, a moon encased in ice vapor, cradled in the forest’s naked embrace. A languid ascent from the realm of dreams. A gentle command: release toreceive.Be open to that which you never considered.
In my waking hours, a door swings wide open. A hand of steel emerges. Your initiative and competencehave not gone unnoticed, a metallic voice intones. My head spins, and the instinct is to recoil. You deserve more. I hesitate, weighing the options. I could remain in the outer reaches of the hive, lulled by repetition and blissfully invisible. But maybe it’s time to step out of the shadows. If I don’t try, I will always wonder. I take a deep breath, clasp the hand, and step through the door.
Long ago, across the great water in the place now called Wisconsin, there was a cataclysm. Some say it was fire, others hunger. Many humans and animals died. A mother bear and two little cubs, desperate for escape, decided to swim across the great lake. They waded into the water, one cub on each side of the bear. After a while, the cubs began to get very tired. The bear knew that it was far too late to turn back. And so she said, “The land is not very far, my children. Don’t give up.” But the cubs got weaker. Within sight of land, one cub sank into the waves. Soon after, the other also drowned. The bear’s heart was broken, but there was no going back. She waded ashore and laid down, gazing out on the water where her cubs had perished. After some time, both of them rose to the surface as two little islands. And so the bear still lies there, atop the dunes, looking after her children for eternity. – Anishinaabe legend
Rick informs us that there has been a last-minute addition to the itinerary. We’d be the first ever to experience a showing of one of the DPRK’s most famous movies, with the star actor in attendance. If we are interested. We shake off our stupor.
The show is about to begin, but I’ve got to use the restroom. Of course. Miss Kim and I scurry down the marble-floored hallway. We burst into a large conference room, a Mid-century masterpiece. Our giggles echo in the silence. I use the restroom first, and then Miss Kim takes a turn. I wait for her in the empty room. Huge portraits of the Leaders beam down at me. Miss Kim rejoins me. A sigh of relief escapes her, then a giggle. I cast one final glance over my shoulder at the Leaders, at that room so lost in time, and slip out the door behind her. My head spins. Reality ripples and elongates. A funhouse distortion. Unsettling and captivating. They are supposed to be miserable. Bad people. The enemy.
Democratic People's Republic of Korea (North Korea) - April 2016
“The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country. We are governed, our minds are molded, our tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of. This is a logical result of the way in which our democratic society is organized. Vast numbers of human beings must cooperate in this manner if they are to live together as a smoothly functioning society.” – Edward Bernays, Propaganda.
Air Koryo flight 252. Beijing to Pyongyang. Cruising level is reached. The in-flight entertainment screens creak open. Long-legged ladies dressed in identical white dress suits perform on a stage. It is Moranbong, the North Korean version of the Spice Girls. It is said that each lady was chosen by Kim Jong Un. On a video screen behind them, his cherubic face looms. He stands on a mountain top, the wind blowing through his hair.
