Key West: Finding Orange Magic

Mirror, mirror, on the wall
tell me if it's real at all.
Is there orange magic?

My dear boy, why now ask?
You've always known.
Why take me to task?

You've felt it in the orange flame,

in the setting suns you've tried to tame;

in mystic books,

and tarot cards,

in genie's lamps,

and crystal shards;

in copious mugs of bubbly brew,

in magic hats that feel good, too;

in the yin, the yang,

the big full moon,

in the tic and toc, that's gone too soon;

in fairies of the forest,

and in your dreams,

and still you remain blind, it seems!


Whether you be wizard young,

or wizard old,

all must hear this story told:

With the heart and mind of a child,

must ye go forth, have fun... do something wild!

Only then shall you discover ORANGE magic!


~GJ Duerrschmidt

Key West: On the Road to Simplicity

As I pack and prepare to embark upon the westward leg of my novel-writing road trip, I took a time out to reflect upon what might be in store for me at its conclusion. I had, at one time, considered a cabin in the woods, and began to seriously consider a move to the mountains. Perhaps this may still be in the cards!

In 2008, while teaching on the eastern shore of Maryland, I met an old woman sitting alone at a table in the corner at an art showing in the quaint little town of Berlin. I asked if she was related to the artist on display, to which she smiled and said, "Aren't we all related in some way?"

"Why are you seated at this table?" I asked her. "You appear to have some purpose."

She produced a deck of cards from beneath the table, and spread them out skillfully. 

"I read cards," was her response. "Would you care to have me read them for you?"

I was taken aback by this unexpected offer. Tarot cards! She read Tarot cards! Whether there was anything to it, or not, the idea of them had always fascinated me greatly, and for a very long time. How could I pass up such an opportunity.

"How much? I asked the old woman.

"Thirty dollars," she said so matter of factly. I agreed, and she motioned for me to take a seat right beside her. Moving the cards aside, she asked for both of my hands. I obediently stretched them toward her. She turned them both upward, then asked me to grip her arms above her wrists, and she did likewise to my own.

We sat quietly and motionless for what seemed like a long time, but I'm sure was no more than a minute.

"Mountains," she said, breaking the silence. And then repeated, "Mountains." 

"Mountains?" I replied.

"Yes, mountains," she repeated again. "You want to go to the mountains, but now is not the right time for you."

"Oh?" I felt forced to ask.

"Yes." she went on. "Now is not the time for you. Your finances are not what they need to be for such a move at this time. You must wait until 2010. Then it will be your time."  

I just sat there somewhat stunned by her words. You see, for more than two years, after returning to Maryland from a lengthy hiatus in Key West, I had a growing desire to do just that: go to the mountains...the Smoky Mountains...specifically, Asheville, North Carolina. How could she possibly know!

On two isolated occasions, while in Key West, I had been asked by total strangers if I was from Asheville. The first time this happened, I simply ignored the matter. But when it happened the second time, at a different place, with different people, I could no longer let it slide. 

When asked the second time, I pressed the issue asking for an explanation. Their response was simple and unanimous: "Because you just look and act like someone who might come from there."

Going home that night, I got online and Googled Asheville, and checked it out, curious to discover possible hints of me. There were many!

In 2006, I returned to Maryland and back to teaching college. While at a Happy Hour at a local sports bar, I joined a fun group of folks who insisted on buying me a drink. Soon into the conversation, a woman asked if I had ever been to Asheville. What?!!! Florida Keys, Eastern Shore of Maryland, there was no escaping Asheville. Third time's the charm, they say, so with Spring Break coming up, I decided to spend it in Asheville, and once and for all, experience it for myself. Somehow, I felt I had received a mandate from the universe.

"It is meant for you to go to the mountains," the old woman went on. "It is there that you will receive your crowning glory."

My what?

So, while waiting on 2010 to arrive, I decided I might at least inch my way closer to the mountains. I moved to Shepherdstown, West Virginia, and began teaching part-time at Shepherd University. It was in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and I believed it would give me a small taste of things yet to come.

While in Shepherdstown, I began to pursue another longtime interest: getting back to Nature. I was teaching college, but was myself hungry for knowledge: of a physical, as well as metaphysical nature. I began to study Nature, to collect and study stones and minerals, mass a pantry filled with herbs and spices, and study uses in cooking, as well as for holistic medicine.

My interests also turned to American Indian customs and lore. I bought myself a cedar Native American flute, and began teaching myself to play. For nothing more that its spiritual benefit, I added a Native American deer skin drum to my collection. At times, I drum as I meditate. It's always soothing to the soul.

I spent more time outside amid the trees than I did indoors. One favorite tree I named the "Thinking Tree," because it was beneath it  I would sit for hours, and when inspired, write. When not there, I would be in the hammock stretched between two apple trees, or at my seven-foot fire pit, wooden staff in hand. There was something so very natural, so wonderfully primitive, to commune daily with Nature. 

It was during this period of natural discovery that I encountered a work of art on display at the University Bookstore. There happened to be student art on display there. Being all about students, and all about art, I was quite vulnerable!

One piece, in particular, really captured my attention. So much so, in fact, that I visited daily when on campus, and spent long moments studying it. It was for sale. The asking price: $100.00. I wanted it! After two weeks of tormenting myself over the expense, I caved in and purchased it.

It was a very detailed pencil sketch of Hansel and Gretel, drawn by a former writing student of mine. It wreaked of Nature! How could I resist?!

She had so cleverly written the entire story into the bark of the trees on the second page of the work. That's what sold me on the piece!

The drawings spoke to me. They reminded me of my own deep desire to live out my life somewhere deep within the forest... perhaps somewhere in the mountains.

In the story there was a witch, a very misunderstood old witch, if you were to ask me. Curiously, I related with that old woman. Whether or not I would ever admit it to myself, or anyone else, I was slowly transforming into a shaman... a wizard... a witch, of sorts. 

My new and vigorous study of Nature, herbs, minerals, the forces of Nature, American Indian lore, were teaching me to "walk in the ways of the wise," as it were, along the path of hedonistic pagans throughout history, who sought to understand, and use Nature for health and for the good of mankind. Like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, they were often victims of the imposition and ignorance of others ~ victims in being called witch in the first place. 

They were different, and society always seems to discriminate against those who are different. Ignorance has traditionally bred fear, and many who studied and practiced alchemy had been put to death, solely for being different.

My own study of Nature aligns me most closely with what is known as Wicca. I do not classify myself as being Wiccan, though I admit to embracing much of its teachings, especially those focused on the natural world. I've found Wiccan books to be a great source of knowledge on matters of Nature.

There is no Satan, or Satanic worship involved with Wicca, nor is there any connection to dark, Gothic garb, or heavy metal music. However, there are persons and groups claiming today to be Wiccan who are connected with all the negativism mentioned, who cast a dark shadow upon those who are true advocates of the Earth, the moon, the sun, the universe, and all of Nature. These true advocates then, as well as now, follow a very simple creed:

Getting back to Nature, and adopting a simple lifestyle, is epitomized, and has been immortalized in Henry David Thoreau's Waldon.

I have been a fan of Thoreau's writing, but more so with his life. It is my wish, my fantasy, to live just as simply as he did for his two years on Waldon pond. I would love to build myself a small, austere dwelling somewhere in the woods (of course, in the mountains). 

Just like Thoreau, I would continue my study of Nature, and of those things that really matter in life, away from the madness of the modern world, away from the artificially imposed distractions that blind our senses, and prevent us from experiencing the kind of purity and simplicity of life that Nature intends for us to live.

What a shame for one to die never having fully experienced life! 

~ GJ Duerrschmidt

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." 

  Henry David Thoreau

Key West: Stuck in a Moment!

My apologies to those of you who have taken the time to visit my blog on a recurring basis. As you have no doubt observed, there have been no new posting in weeks now.

This has been a tumultuous couple of weeks for me. I've been doing my best to make the VW fully road worthy, mainly involving a lot of small tedium preventative maintenance issues. Additionally, I've been in a reading mood, and have stayed engrossed in a few works simultaneously, from which I have been gaining great insight and motivation toward my own works. But, truth be known, there have been extenuating circumstances. Aren't there always?

A technological distractor has been the failure of my laptop this past week. A real bummer, one that significantly impacted my transition into the reading mode. But, the laptop has not been the only thing that has suddenly crapped out ~ I have as well!

Poor diet, and too much "happy hour" on a regular basis, have taken their toll on me in the form of annoying insomnia and painful gout in my right elbow and left foot. Yes, I've been a damn fool, and now I'm paying for it!

As I convalesce, I've begun two new posts: one on the topic of "simplicity, and the other on "finding the magic." I trust you will check back in over this next week. I promised myself that I would get back into the swing of things. Speaking of which...

Also this past week, I was peacefully swinging in my hammoch, reflecting on my sorry, self-inflicted plight, when...BAM!!! Without any warning, the ropes gave way at the head side, slamming me smartly onto the twisted, rocky ground!

The cross board of the hammock was directly under my neck as I impacted, resulting in quite a sharp, concerning blow. So, there I lay, motionless, with throbbing gout foot and swollen elbow, with what became a bruised back,... stunned, dazed, and confused... alone, with no help in sight.

After accessing physical damage, I managed to roll onto my side, and crawl over to the picnic table, where I was able to prop myself up, and eventually stand on my one good foot.

I'm sure that the sudden, thunderous crash sent dozens of chameleons and geckos, and at least two iguana, all scurrying for their lives!

Hey, I'm supposed to be hitting the road in a couple weeks. Time to shake off the events of the past two week, and shape up! Wouldn't you agree?

Peace and love,

~GJ Duerrschmidt

NAS Key West Rec Center: My Writing Command Center!

While riding out the winter months here in Key West tent camping amid the pines at the Sigsbee RV Campground, I must confess, I've been fortunate to have an oasis, an escape from the heat, humidity, pesky insects, and over curious reptiles.

Every day, almost without fail, after stumbling out of the tent, and brewing a pot of coffee, I head off to the Navy Base Recreation Center/ITT Office to crank out some writing. Vintage van Go[gh] has been good about having to remain outside the whole time. I always do my best to make it up to him later in the day.

Also, almost without fail, upon entering the facility, I receive a cheerful welcome from the friendly and hospitable staff in the ITT office. This is where base patrons come to book and purchase tickets for the myriad of fun, recreational venues available here in Key West.



I try my best to avoid the well equipped exercise room at the end of the hall straight ahead. I prefer spend my available energy each day on thoughts of lunch ahead, and on that well deserved happy hour waiting for me at the end of each grueling day of writing.

But right now, I have to keep my focus on my primary mission, and continue straightway to my "Writing Command Center," which just happens to double as the facility's lounge.

The lounge is home to a collection of rent-by-the-half hour computers, comfortable easy chairs and sofas, and a big screen TV, to keep escapees from reality (cough, cough...like myself) semi in touch with the events happening back out in the "real world."

For those, like myself, who have their own laptop, there are cubicles to work at and take advantage of the free LAN, or Wi-Fi.

I try to be an early bird so I can seize the last cubicle to the right. Somehow, this one has always seemed like the right one for me, even though I tend to lean more often to "the left."

This is the spot! It is right here that check emails, goof off on Facebook, write my blog, write poetry, and occasionally even work on the book project I have been blaming this whole road trip on!

However, no matter how involved in my work I might become, I rarely stay too late. There is too much natural beauty associated with this charming island, to remain cooped up indoors the whole day.

Regardless where the rest of the day takes me, each always ends up at the same place ~ standing in wonder and awe somewhere along the shore, taking in yet another spiritually uplifting, creatively inspiring sunset!

So now you know where I'll be tomorrow morning, and every morning until the winds of change shift, and it's clearly time for Vintage van Go[gh] and I to set sail for the west coast. 

Peace. 

WANTED: Closeted Hippies for Vicarious Magical Mystery Tour!

The unencumbered, simple life calls for simple blogging. I've a hot dog social to attend at the campground today, and I must go conjure up some potato salad. Consequently, unlike my homemade potato salad, this entry will be light and fluffy...


Mirror, mirror, on the wall, work your magic ~ take me away from it all!

If only it were that easy, right? Well, it just may be! Perhaps you're not at a place in your life where you can let your hair down and just walk away from it all. So, why not simply give in to fantasy by joining our upcoming road trip through the marvels of cyberspace!

In the comfort, safety, and security of your own space, you can ride along as Vintage van Go[gh] and I make our way from adventure to adventure, state by state. You'll be right in the midst of all the fun, and be there to help provide moral support, should we encounter an occasional trial, or tribulation.

Oh, come on...do it! Who are you kidding? You and I both know you have always been a closeted hippie ~ secretly yearning that total freedom, frivolity, and a devil-may-care serendipitous lifestyle. You're no spring chicken these days. It's time to quit living in denial!

  

Besides, just as Grimm says here...

After all, let's face it...the deck had long ago been shuffled, and the cards already dealt. 



So, let the sun shine. Let the sun shine in!

Peace, love, and orange tho'ts!

~g

Baby Boomer, Are You a Late Bloomer? It's Never Too Late!

If you're a baby boomer like myself, what the hell are you waiting for...the Golden Years? Get real, these ARE the golden years! And if you're not already living what time you have left to the fullest, well...when do you think you will? There's never going to be a better time than right now. God knows, I sure waited long enough to wake up and smell the coffee. 

I'm traveling across country right now in a labor of love I fondly call Vintage van Go[gh] ~ a 1970 VW hippie love bus. Why? Why climb a mountain? Because it's there! In this case, making a road trip across country in an old VW bus is on my Bucket List. I never did it back when I was eighteen, for too many reasons. But none of those reasons exist today to prevent me, so no matter what others may think or say about the venture, I'm damn sure doing it!

Like my old bus, I should have bought in to the extended warranty plan back when I had the chance, but...oh well. Now, on any given day my joints hurt, I have less energy, I'm quickly developing cataracts, and I find it more and more important to always know where the nearest toilet is ~ you know, just in case.

Nonetheless, I want to see the Grand Canyon while I still can, hike through the tall Redwoods while I can still walk, hug a giant Sequoya just because it's there, and because I'm a tree hugger. From my years of professing college English, I have come to respect nouns as the most important to my life: people, places, and things.

I have to make this journey because, all along the way, there are exotic and interesting people I've yet to meet; great places, big and small I've yet to visit; and fun, adventurous things I've yet to experience. And, truth be known, none of it will ever happen unless I, with the help of Bayer aspirin (and a little medicinal brandy), don't MAKE it happen.

Ever since completing the Graduate Writing Program at Johns Hopkins, I've been wanting to write a fiction novel. I've managed to crank out magazine articles along the way, but never seemed to have the time to tackle a book project. The idea for the book presented itself eight years ago, and for eight years it's layed dormant. Well, on this trip, it's being resurrected, and I'm making the time. My goal is to complete it by this journey's end. I say "this," because I wish to leave the door open for the next!

If I can do it, you can do it; not necessarily taking a roadtrip and writing a novel, like me, but whatever YOUR longtime fantasy has been that you've been putting off for way too long. Don't die with the best part of your life's story still in you!

I would like to leave you with a poem, that kind of relates:

Late Bloomer

Forever and a day,

I regret to say,

I have lived my life

for others.

Not knowing why,

it was do it, or die,

sacrificing all my

own druthers.

If you were to ask,

take me to task,

I’d not been able

to answer,

who, or what I am,

the King of Siam,

Donner, Blitzen, or

Prancer?

Am I gay, or straight?

Is it ever too late,

to change once I

ever find out?

As far a preference,

I have no reference.

Perhaps you’d help

rid the doubt.

Yes,

I’m a late bloomer;

it’s not just a rumor;

my mottos in life

are all new:

if it feels good, do it;

always pursue it; and

to thine own self

always be true.

~gduerrschmidt

Key West: It's Raining Reptiles!

Last night while preparing dinner, I heard a thump on the tarp overhead that I positioned to keep the steady rain of the Swamp Cypress tree debris off of my tent and dining area. With all those tiny pine cones, long needles, and oh yes, the prehistoric-sized moths swooping about, it's nothing unusual to hear a thump. But this thump was very close, and warranted immediate investigation.

Straight above my head was the shadow of a reptile, of sorts. Too small for an iguana, but certainly could belong to a gecko, or cameleon. Most evenings, when retired to my tent, I have often heard what I imagined to be small creatures dropping onto, and then scurrying across the canvas. Until now, I only imagined this to be the case. Now I had my proof!

I no sooner took this picture, when the little rascal crawled over to the edge and peered down at me. He seemed to be taking quite an interest, and not the least bit afraid. Can you make him out there, just above the metal loop on the brown tarp?

No? Well let me enlarge the view. There, now can you see his little green and white lizard head?

I moved out from under the tarp and raised my camera. With my moves, he very slowly turned away and froze in place. I guess he thought that by so doing, I wouldn't notice him.

Here's an attempt at a closer look. I'm using a Sprint Instinct 30 cell phone camera, which is somewhat lacking in clarity at times. Once I have accummulated all the VW bus parts one could ever imagine needing, then I might invest in a real camera.

As I inched closer to get a better shot, the little bastard turned into a magician! Please forgive me for referring to him as a little bastard, but the little bastard startled me! Right after I snapped this pic ~ presto-chango! ~ he turned completely brown! I was so amazed at this unexpected trick that I just stood there dumbfounded, and stared in awe. In a flash, he was gone, and all I could think about was how in the hell did he do that?  Answer: he had to have been a cameleon.

The little lizards here don't bother me one bit. It's the big ones that tend to spook me from time to time, even though I know full well by now to expect it. They're right there underfoot by my bus when I go to get into it. And they quickly run away, as if mischieviously up to something...

They're big and brown, and suddenly pop out into the clearing behind the tent...

They're bright green, and quickly dart out from behind nearby trees...

They stealthily scale up surrounding trees, often going unnoticed, and watch as I lay unaware in my hammock, no doubt deeply thinking about the book. But, on this day, I was awake, andsaw him up there to my left...

They appear here and there, and inevitably inch closer and closer, watching, studying this interloper who has invaded their sacred, holy swamp...

Every day they come. On some days, more of them come than on others. But one thing sure, they haven't missed a day in paying their strange and curious neighbor a visit.

I haven't gone as far as assigning them names, though I have begun talking to them quite extensively, that is, as they present the occasion. The way they inquisitively cock their heads from side to side, and bob them up and down as I speak, at the very least, creates a convincing illusion that they are listening.

Thus far, mind you, I have intentionally avoided politics or religion,  as neither have in the past ever lead an intellectually stimulating conversation to a mutually satisfying end. I must confess, though frequent, these reptilian monologues fall far from being intellectual, or stimulating, or could even qualify as conversation, for that matter. On the other hand, they have been an enormous help to me in forming and organizing my thoughts.

God only knows what thoughts the reptiles crawl away with!