My wife, son, sister and I went home to Oregon for Thanksgiving. I absolutely love being in the house I grew up in, visiting old haunts and enjoying the general green splendor of my home state.

There are certain traditions that must be followed whenever we go home to Oregon (usually about twice a year). On is going to the Marrakesh for dinner.

The Marrakesh is a Moroccan restaurant downtown Portland. Patrons sit on the floor, eat all five courses with their hands (everyone gets a bath towel for a napkin), and get a rosewater hand rinse afterward to cover up the scent of the food. It’s a great experience, although we were worried about taking my 18 month-old son because…well…he’s 18 months old. He ended up doing quite well and thought it was a lot of fun to peek out between the curtains behind our table and look at the passersby on the street, his little head barely poking above the seat.

Sure enough, people walking past started noticing him and smiling. One person even stopped to take a picture. I stood up and ran outside. The photographer, “Pie” (she asked that I not use her real name), thought I was going to get mad at her for taking pictures of my son. Instead, I asked her to write in my journal.

Pie was young and kind of short – she only came up to my shoulders -  with big, expressive eyes. She was easy to talk to and I came to find he was taking photography classes and was using an old-school film camera that night. She was there with her family to celebrate her 18th birthday. After she sat down at her table I gave her my journal.

Pie didn’t want her picture taken, or, rather, it made her family nervous. Clearly I, having a wife and kid and being at dinner with my parents, seemed very threatening. :) She said she’d mail me copies of the pictures she took of my son, and I was waiting to post this until they arrived, but she must have forgotten.

“My name is Pie and it’s my eighteenth birthday and for the first time I am eating Moroccan food. It’s crazy and extremely exciting, I hope the belly dancer shows up at my table and shows me how to shake my thing. Even though I am 18 now, it doesn’t mean I am quite an adult. I am a kid forever because then I will never die. Live forever! I hope that taking these pictures, how I met this random man, allow me to go far. I really enjoy artistic stuff and truly want to make a difference in people’s lives. Also, someday marijuana should be legal because then everyone will be happy.”

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It was just after 7:00 am and Crystal was standing behind my sister and me in line at a university bookstore. They were having a sale on Apple products (educational discount plus no sales tax!) and we were both picking up new laptops. She asked me about the preinstalled software on the machines she was buying. Being a bit of a geek, I’m always happy to talk tech, and so our conversation began.

Crystal is getting her undergrad in exercise and sports science and will pursue her master’s in the same. She teaches yoga and is an avid outdoorswoman. When I mentioned that I’d never skied in Utah (something nearly blasphemous when living in this state) she asked, slightly baffled, “What do you do if you don’t spend time outdoors?”

I never would have guessed that Crystal had the difficult background she wrote about based on interacting with her. She has been proactive overcoming her trials and is now trying to help others do the same.

If I had to come up with a single word to describe Crystal it would probably be genuine. She’s one of those people who makes whoever she’s around feel important. Crystal would be a good friend: fun, sincere, and outgoing. It was a pleasure to have met her.

Person in line @ Apple sale:

My father died in a hang gliding accident the day before I was born. Before age 10 I attended a retreat in which I burned a decorated branch that symbolized my fear of my mother’s death. In my teens I exposed myself to as much sensory stimulation in search of something that would draw me into the present moment – this extended into my early 20s in the form of substances. I spent 2 months in an isolated population which allowed me to begin a longer process of feeling OK w/ being alone.

I’ve continued to take particular actions that lead towards assisting others with fear of loneliness but sometimes I forget and feel lost. What’s beautiful is that there are always reminders bringing me back to self and what I feel comfortable dedicating my life to. When ego or the external edges of life sneak in my confidence is blurred. Being humble in my lack of understanding of information and life keeps me young – curious – playful and loving. It is through suffering that I have arrived and continue to arrive repeatedly. I am not religious specifically but I learn most when my connection with spirit is strong.

I often feel people should have an autobiography to hand others upon initial meeting so that there is less time spent on potentially superficial interactions – then realize the process of love and compassion comes in all forms. I don’t enjoy talking about myself but I end up there anyways.

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My wife and I went to an Ani DiFranco concert here in Salt Lake on Saturday. We’d never heard of her, but the promise of free tickets to an outdoor concert on a summer night sounded too good to pass up.

While waiting in a very long line to get wristbands (we already had tickets, I’m not sure why we needed wristbands too) we met Christian. “I’m selling handmade jewelry to get money to, well, eat. That and to fix up my ’72 VW van.”

Christian wanted to make it back to Monterey, California and from there, who knew?

We admired his handiwork but didn’t have any cash. I told him about this project and he was more than willing to write in my journal. Once we found our seats (next to a girl who was already throwing up in the bushes – nice) he began.

“The nights just startin! She’s already piss drunk and I can’t remember her name, too bad I’m movin on. It ain’t all bad, I’ve been here for years, and worked so long ya think I could have at least moved 10 ft, but its all good the weather’s nice, the foods good and I’m well enough to live till tomorrow. Yet still I swear I’m goin sometime to somewhere fine. Freedom is fine, and free, but why does it take so much from me? Life can’t be defined by how much money you make, how new you are or how fast you made it. If even I die poor, I still lived!

Since the wheel first turned we’ve been turned in time to meet its end.”

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