I just returned from one of the most amazing vacations I have ever taken. If nothing else, it was the best vacation I have ever taken in the sense that I actually relaxed, didn’t really let much bother me and just honored every emotion I felt at every moment without thought. It was the kind of vacation where you just sit and stare out at some vastness, in this case the Pacific Ocean, and you feel humbled. I felt so small. A blip of a blip. On the other hand, I felt tremendously significant and powerful. I had a sense of purpose and peace. It’s not so surprising what getting caught up in the hustle of Los Angeles can do to a person, and that one needs to leave for a while every so often. When you spend time in a place that moves at the speed of a snail, where you can’t help but literally stop and smell the flowers, the emotions can be overwhelming.
There were moments that I was sitting on the beach, just watching the ocean move. I sat for hours. Every once in a while I would just cry. I wasn’t the least bit sad. It was just the calm and beauty that I so rarely stop to notice. I try and make an effort, but I realized just how much more effort it was going to take when I got back to Los Angeles. Today I noticed my stride was much slower, my shoulders were relaxed and several people commented on the “healthy glow” I had about me. I felt healthy and radiant. I just want to hold on to that, and I’m not talking about using bronzing cream or tanning beds. Hell, I’m not even talking about being in the sun so much as just getting out to appreciate and enjoy life more than I have been doing. It’s difficult to do that when you only have a couple of days over the weekend to unwind, only to return to work a couple of days later, but changes need to be made. I need to be realistic. I have such a tendancy to romantisize and make decisions based on whims. I have very few regrets, if any, but I would like to be a little more thoughtful. I would like to think things all the way through without being heady and then make a decison and move forward. Yes, that’s what I will do…
brad, my favorite drama queen next to myself. there is a book called: 2150 a.d. i’ve told you about it before, i think. in the book there is a guy who lives in 1976, a football player who loses his leg in an accident. he’s depressed, desponded, over life. when he goes to sleep at night (in his dreams) he wakes up in the year 2150, a.d. – its an entirely advanced society (HEB’s, really.) This guys loves 2150 and hates 1976. He asks the Masters of 2150 how he can permanently leave 1976 and live in 2150. He’s told when he can live everything (the principles) he loves about 2150 in 1976, then he can leave 1976. only if he can bring the beauty and truth of 2150 to 1976 can he leave it. LA, she’s a bitch but she’s an angel too. Maui will always be Maui, best we find how to live Maui in LA and then we will have mastered the best of all worlds. it can be done!
“I felt healthy and radiant.”
yr about one step away from being a commercial for some sort of beauty product. maybe bronzing cream or something…
I’m glad you had such a great vacation. and I hope your time back has had a little bit of Maui in it (good one, Michael).
I fistr stumbled across your site (the Atlantic drift is pretty powerful nowadays {I’m in Europe}) through a search for Ed Harcourt reviews, which I first want to commend you on! This site’s a treasure trove and I’m glad I read your stunningly composed travel report. That’s satisfying to read, daddio. I’ve just completed the Trans Sib railway and, although the serenity you’ve savoured wasn’t particularly inherent, the escape was truly appreciated upon my return… now has formulated itself into somewhat of an addiction.
Anyway, my 18 years have been pretty wasteful so far — I don’t intend on making the same comments when I’m 36.
Is your site name taken from a Jojo Richman song?
hey brad!
i see you’re working on films. weren’t you going to go to art school to study photography or something like that? where are some of your great photos – you used to have more online.