CURRENT MISSION

Become god-like

ABOUT ME

Can I pass to my friends? They're always better at describing me than I am. I get too wordy and self-conscious about maintaining a humble nature. I'm virtually always well-liked, though I have heard that sometimes I come off too strong or as one of those detestable strange persons at first, yet it is never a long time before a true friendship emerges between me and most any other who is seeking some form of unity with other people. The world is always a lovely place. You must simply allow yourself to accept that reality. Sometimes it helps to force a smile and jostle those organs with a little non-directional, somewhat hysterical laughter.

PHILOSOPHY

Talk with anyone long enough, and personal philosophy will find its way out. Talk with them longer, and you'll start to realize your philosophies are the same.

Why I’m on Couchsurfing

HOW I PARTICIPATE IN COUCHSURFING

I just joined the couchsurfing official community, but I've hosted many people, travelers and friends, in my location of residence before for months at a time. It is not uncommon for me to invite strangers into my home, if it seems right. Currently, I am living with my brother, his wife, and their two young children in Istanbul. I am living on their couch, otherwise I would offer up my own.

COUCHSURFING EXPERIENCE

Not an "official" couchsurf, but I let my friends Paige and Brett stay on my couches and sort of spare bed that was my beloved roommates for several months. You know how it goes; a couple weeks just spreads on and on when someone shoplifts groceries and booze for you. I've stayed on more couches with friends than I care to recall. In fact, right now I've been staying on my brother's couch in Istanbul for a solid eight months. I'm lying on it now, typing to you...or to no one. I could have a bed, but I kind of like the couch feel. On the road, living out of a suitcase, wind at my back...nothing like daunting uncertainty and lack of possessions to make you focus on cultivating the inner self.

Interests

Chi gung, kung fu, meditation, and basically any internal art practice that seeks to harmonize body, mind, and being are my biggest hobby. Yes, those are all essentially one practice with the greatest goal of each being the same as other: the discovery of the true self. Beyond that, I'm like most people of the vague modern culture, liking music of all sorts, playing video games, participating in sport from time to time, reading books that catch my fancy or that wander into my arms from the active giving nature of others' thought streams about who I am and what I may like, having fascinating conversations about taboo subjects or highly theoretical sciences and how they relate to common knowledge among a wide array of other subjects, and generally attempting to be a cool, well-rounded person who is forever bettering himself and desperately trying to play music well.

• animals
• arts
• culture
• writing
• books
• environment
• sprinting
• meditation
• walking
• flying
• video games
• reading
• music
• sports
• science

One Amazing Thing I’ve Done

There are many (My friends and family will vouch for this.), and most are sacred to me. I do not share them with people who are not very close to me or interested in such things, because they will shut it out of their minds which shuts down their higher reasoning functions, disbelieve me, and consequently gain no value from it while simultaneously brewing negative images of my own person in their minds, such as that I am a liar or obsessed with my own image and power. Yet, I will share one story here for the sake of trust and to show that all of you viewing this are really already a friend of mine.

The family and myself were visiting Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan one summer. We'd never been there, so one day, we headed up to the top of the incredibly steep sand dune that the place is known for. Most of it is pretty touristy, with a long boardwalk along the top that has a couple viewing platforms jutting out from the cliff, allowing you the pleasurable adrenaline rush of vertigo-like falling sensations if you so desire to stare down its length. There is also a well-worn walking path up and down it, still made all of the dune's natural sand. I spent some time staring at it and chuckling to myself at the rather obese Americans which had decided to make the long trek down it and who were now having incredible difficulties getting back up it. In sand at that angle, every step you take is halved by the falling sand underneath the pressure of your foot. Add a significantly weightier body, and you're lucky to make a couple inches of progress with each step. My first thought was to challenge my little sister to a race down it, then leap as far down the cliff as I could, literally flying ahead of her, and tumble or jump the rest of the way down. My mother read my mind and exploded in an impassioned speech about how dangerous this cliff was, mentioning how the sun would burn our skin terribly, we might not be able to climb back up its face and have to call a rescue helicopter to airlift us (seriously), the horribly steep price of such an operation, and various other dooming prophecies. For the sake of our collective unity and the rest of the day's planned activities, I conceded and instead gradually struck out from the group along the boardwalk, reaching its end and venturing off into the untouched and lonely sands beyond. It didn't take but one traversed small dune crest before I found myself in an environment alien to the one I was in moments before. No people, almost no animals, and sand beneath my feet that was hard from being untouched for so long, leaving clear footprints behind me. I admittedly felt a little guilty about being there, like I was desecrating hallowed ground, but I felt I must push on as mischievous joy welled up inside me. I began sprinting up dunes and jumping over them like a wild man, absorbing as much space as I could, then I took the time to look closer and found there were dozens of seashells whitened and softened from long exposure to the sand littered throughout the area. I took a couple prized ones as gifts for others and respectfully left the rest as they lay. Finally, I saundered up to the edge, considerably steeper, rockier, and more daunting than the tourist path, and looked out towards the waters of Lake Michigan. It was a clear and bright day, and the sun was just low enough on the horizon that it lit a perfectly straight path of light right up to where I stood (an optical illusion, I know, but a nice thought all the same), toes reaching out beyond where the ground lay. I stared at the sun. The moment was perfect. Home was where I was. I was smiling deeply inside, and I decided to deepen and hold the experience as I had trained myself how to do through chi gung and meditation practice. I took my stance, corrected alignments, closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and became acutely aware of all the endless sensory information enshrouding my awareness. It was peaceful and energetic simultaneously, and before very long, I felt an immense happiness rising in me. I threw open my eyelids to witness the scene again while bursting into laughter so true that my spine tingled up and down: the winding serpent on its path. At that very moment, a flock of hawks swept in from behind me on my right and turned left just at the top of the cliff, right in front of where I was standing. They were following the air currents, I'm sure, but the synchronicity of the time was undeniable. For a dramatically slow and hyper-clear time, they just seemed to keep coming just as my laughter rollingly frolicked out of my mouth. The sheer power of the moment melded all the experience into one, these hawks just three to ten feet in front of me. One of the last came very close, level with my own face, and we gazed into one another for a long spell. It's orange eye still vividly ingrained in my memory. As they past further on along the cliff, I turned to count them, now settling back into the daily mundane life. There were twelve of them, altogether, and hawks no doubt by the way they flew and my clear inspection of them just seconds before. I recalled the name of an author, John Twelve Hawks, whose book called "The Traveler" I had just finished reading not long before, and wondered if through some divine mystery of our existence that we do not commonly accept or understand it was actually him who I had just had the pleasure of meeting. I watched them till they were gone, then found my way back to my family along the boardwalk. Somewhat disbelieving what I had experienced, I asked, "Did you see the hawks?" and they vaguely recollected seeing them, not having the incredible vantage point that I had been gifted with: a lesson about the value of active attention.

Teach, Learn, Share

Chi Gung
Meditation
English
Philosophy
The science of learning
music and percussion