The West End

Wednesday 4pm, New York City, I'm drinking sangria at The West End at 114th and Broadway. 

In 1940-something, Jack Kerouac, a 25-year old Columbia grad student with a literary bent, would often drink, write, and observe life at this very bar. This fact segues nicely into a little commentary on inspiration...

Summer 2003, so about five years ago, I'm in an English bookstore in Valencia, Spain, sifting the shelves. The volumes offered are limited and prosaic-- Harry Potter, Jurassic Park, Jane Eyre. I randomly pick up a book whose title entices me for no apparent reason: On The Road by Kerouac. I have never heard of it or him, but buy it anyway. A few days later, I'm on a bus to Sevilla (on the road, as it were), and open the book to pass the time. By page eight (mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved...), I am deeply moved and am pretty sure I finish the thing on that bus. 

I really truly believe I've been a different person ever since. Hard to explain how or why different, but something involving greater awareness and appreciation for places, no matter how random; people, no matter how different; and unexpected events, no matter how derailing. In fact, the randomness, the differences, the unexpected... that's where the the poetry is! And we encounter these things in large measure when we travel...

And so, about five years ago, I resolved to hit the road, a la Sal Paradise, wanting to experience more fully the beauty and the grit, the randomness and the reality of the world and times we live in. And for the last five years, greater priorities got in the way. 

When I left a month ago today, I told myself that when on the road, when cares oppress, when fatigue dampens spirit, when shit hits the fan... to be unflappable, to remain optimistic, open-minded, observant and interested, always. And if I could do that, that would be much. That would be growth that would surely find a place in life hereafter. 

Now, having crossed the country, having faced more than a few derailing obstacles, and having been educated, enlightened, inspired, and humbled, I can say I'm getting better at this. I've become increasingly aware of the subtle but meaningful sights and moments that lend powerful reminders that life is grand, that love is real, that beauty is everywhere. No doubt, the universe is unfolding as it should. 

So far, it's been an perspective-changing, life-enhancing journey. And I guess that's why we travel. I guess that's why I'm here, drinking, writing and observing life at a random New York bar on a Wednesday. 

Outside, the workday is ending and the streets are coming alive. I throw my headphones on (Kids by MGMT) and hop the two train, downtown bound. 

(the universe is unfolding line above was borrowed from The Desiderata, an uplifting prose poem that is worth a read)