Epitaphs.

I really haven't given a lot of thought to how this ends.

There have been too many moments when it seemed it might not happen, or at least, that I might not complete it. I have tried to downplay the difficulties, but there have been real moments of doubt, and even some of fear. The sheer physical demands of the riding alone were quite taxing, and I thought of packing it in more than once, even though the rewards around each turn were so inspiring. I owe a lot to many, and an overwhelming debt to some. For those following along, I hope it's been fun, or at least, I hope it has been occasionally amusing. There will be many more photos to come, and the video, I think - has finally started to trickle onto the Interwebz, despite the shortcomings of the West ;-)

As for myself, I will be unpacking this for a long time. There have been three events, now, in this stage of my "adult" life (which I measure from the time when my mom passed in 1996 - that seems, to me, at least, to be the real beginning of the current stage of my "adulthood") that have shaped the person I am today.

You've seen this one before - I used to attend the Pennsic War on a motorcycle..

The first is my first Pennsic War*, in 2007. I recaptured, there, a part of myself that got put to sleep somewhere between Mom's first recovery and her passing, when I had become a little too tame and a little too sad. Pennsic, and the circles it reopened for me, reminded me of the wildling within me, (what Jerry Whiddon once called the "vagabond gypsy savage" in me...) and brought a part of me back to life. That it "coincided" with my rediscovery of my love of motorcycles is less, I'm sure, coincidence than Purpose.

The main lodge room at the Land Celebration in Gore, Va.,
where the Inner Journey holds its "intensives."

The second is my discovery (or, at least, actual pursuit) of a spiritual life within the Inner Journey DC* community, which finally gave me an outlet for the communal searching I used to pursue through my now-long-lapsed Catholicism.

The Inner Journey gave me a path to follow that could bend itself to my experience and bend me to its teachings without requiring me to surrender any of the essential parts of me.






And then, there is this. For the last half decade, I have felt a little confined, again, and a little "less." I needed a jump start. To reconnect with people and land (two things that both Pennsic and the Inner Journey have in common - a community bound to a place) on a grander scale than I have allowed myself for a while. I am very, very lucky, in my communities and in my ability to say "screw it" and take off for a few days, but I needed a kick in the existential pants, and this has certainly been it. I don't know what the eventual impact will be on my life, path, and habits, but I am sure that things are changing.

It has been my experience that the best journeys climax, not when we want them to, but when they wish, or are ready. When I arrived at Mel and Josh Corbin's, I felt that the essential journey of the "Pirsig" re-enactment was complete. Bonnie would come out, we would relax a little, see some sights, perhaps, and then, when she was on her way home, I would resume the trek, but with the sole and more compact goal of simply getting home in one piece and on time, and then on to a real relaxation at the beach.

Mel and Josh out at dinner with me and Bonnie. 

Petey is such a good dog. We all went for a walk around the nearest portion of the bay. He suffered so many indignities while we were M&J's guests...

 But books, it turns out, get new pages all the time.

I have read ZATAOMM, I believe, 5 times, now, counting this iteration, when I half read and half listened to the excellent audio narration by Michael Kramer. But I have only, prior to now, read the original edition, both in hardback and paperback. When I decided (Sunday night, I think) that I had to read the last chapter, it was almost perfunctory, but I simply couldn't remember where  Pirsig and his son, Chris, were when the book actually ended...

But it all came rushing back: the (from a literary POV, anyway) somewhat rushed denouement of Chris and the author finding a common ground from which to look ahead, Pirsig's revelation that he had been blocking C's view the whole time, and Pirsig's final assertion that everything was going to be okay:

"Trials never end, of course. unhappiness and misfortune are bound to occur as long as people live, but there is a feeling now. that was not there before... It's going to get better now. You can sort of tell these things."

This is the memory I have of the book, a final taste in my "reader's mouth" of comfort and satisfaction. I realize, reading these words, that this is the first time I have read the book since my brother Jamie passed away in 2010, and I take some solace from Pirsig's quiet comfort. I hope that the feeling I have had at the end of this book is a harbinger of a change in my attitudes and hopes moving forward, and maybe, just maybe, a signof hope for those of us who lament the burning of our world.

And then, with a flourish, I "swipe left" to turn the page, as a gesture of completion....

"Afterword."

There has never been an "afterword" before. But, of course, I should have expected this - I read the whole "foreword," written as an adjunct to the 25th Anniversary publication of the book. And if I had paid attention, I would, of course, have realized that the foreword - and therefore the afterword, were written after... well.

First, there is a discussion of what it has been like to embrace and simultaneously flee from the fame that accompanied the success of the book; then some anecdotes about its unlikely embrace by a generation, the concept of a "culture bearing" book... and then, as I knew it must...

So, for those who don't know the story, haven't read the follow-up "sequel", Lila, or are not aware of the goings-on in the life of one of the more famous recluse authors since Salinger: well, I should let Pirsig tell it:

“The receding Ancient Greek perspective of the past ten years has a very dark side: Chris is dead.
He was murdered. At about 8:00 P.M. on Saturday, November 17, 1979, in San Francisco, he left the Zen Center, where he was a student, to visit a friend’s house a block away on Haight Street.”

Robert M. Pirsig. “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.” 

And I really haven't thought about this, as I have been coming across the country, in part to carry something of Tricia with me. But the stark similarity hits home, now, because I realize I am about to read what Pirsig said and thought after that tragedy struck his life and that of his ex-wife, and I am immediately reminded of how hesitant I was to accept Hank and Sue McCauley's lovely invitation, and am afraid to read what follows. And the random nature of Christopher's death seems an eerie precursor, in this context. This is, I think, an unwelcome and unlooked for parallel, and I don't want to play any more.

But, if there is hope for those of good heart in the tumult of our times, it is that the resilience of the human spirit, on balance, seems bottomless. In the face of such a random, heartless occurrence, the author finds a way to salvage not just his life, but our experience. After some rumination on the nature of identity, a brief autobiography of grief, and the shocks that bore it, there comes a surprising story about how he came to be a father again, and a reaffirmation of the principles that the original text espoused. And Pirsig, a father agin, this time of a daughter named Nell, reexamines the end of the book as it was first printed:

"“So I guess you could say, in this primitive way of looking at things, that Chris got his airplane ticket after all. This time he’s a little girl named Nell and our life is back in perspective again. The hole in the pattern is being mended. A thousand memories of Chris will always be at hand, of course, but not a destructive clinging to some material entity that can never be here again.

“What is seen now so much more clearly is that although the names keep changing and the bodies keep changing, the larger pattern that holds us all together goes on and on. In terms of this larger pattern the lines at the end of this book still stand. We have won it. Things are better now. You can sort of tell these things.”
Excerpt From: Robert M. Pirsig. “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.” iBooks. https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/zen-and-the-art-of-motorcycle-maintenance/id360625670?mt=11

"The hole in the pattern is being mended."

These are such important words. There is no part of the universe that is not rent by catastrophe: whether it is the immense fury of a star being born, or a singularity collapsing, the myriad wildfires in Oregon ignited in a night by lighting strikes, or the seemingly irreparable loss of a loved one. Nature makes holes. Nature fills them, Our part is to bend to the job of filling in the holes where we can. I don't pretend to know how we came to where we are as a society, or a people, or a nation, but it is clear that there are numerous holes in the pattern that need filling. All we can do is pick up a shovel, or a trowel, or our hands, and start filling. Hank and Sue McCauley know this. Mel and Josh Corbin know this. Most of the people I have met on this long strange trek know this. And I think all my dear loves at home know this:

"Look Up."
"Love Love Love."
"Plant more Plants."
"Love People, Cook them Tasty Food"

Oh - this has been happening, too:

The reverse contains a picture of Tricia and  QR code that links to the site for the fund established in her name to raise funding for health insurance for performing artists. In each pot where I left one (I usually asked, but sometimes I just left it), I planted a few seeds. I hope something grows. If anybody would like one of the tags, let me know.

The SF Zen Center. Bonnie and I went today, (Tuesday, 7/24.) just to pay some modicum of respect. It's lovely, zen, and is a first class place outside of which to get a parking ticket. (street cleaning signs were completely obscured - I'm fighting this one...)

San Francisco, in general, is a blast, and I have had a great time discovering it, a little, with Bonnie.

Next up - the "all San Francisco, all the time, photo post."

*If anyone is interested in learning more about either of these things, they are both easily Googled, but I will be happy to talk personally about them, as well.