Happy St. Patrick’s Day. A brief flash of the color green forms memories in my mind today. In a determined struggle to pursue success in life, I have completed degree requirements from three colleges: University of South Florida, University of Miami and Nova Southeastern University. Each experience plays out differently in mind now, however.

In the case of USF, I remember myself immersed in a true, campus environment that included  1.Taking great risks to become a well- rounded, pursuer of knowledge and 2.experiencing social highs in an appealing, college atmosphere (minus a football team). In the case of UM, the element of hectically commuting by car through dense, Miami streets to class each day combined with endless amounts of drudgery spent studying silently in the library, clouds my thoughts. From my NSU time, class attendance at night and Saturdays took the fun out of learning per se, as I continually crammed classes there to improve my credential in education.

Without a doubt, I enjoyed the four year experience at USF the most. In view of my innocent pursuit to become a curious scholar in a fun atmosphere there, I have wholeheartedly adopted USFMan as a logical choice for my Word Press User Name. I realize that college students today want “the best bang for their buck” in these times of exorbitant tuition fee payments and tight job markets. It seems that for many of our aspiring graduates, the”true”college experience, however, is in serious jeopardy now.

A white ball pounds leather today and my mind will take a welcome rest. Ball, strike, foul, or hit; it does not matter. Giant bobble dolls in silly uniforms race around the pitcher of choice on the mound. It seems there is always time to gaze without purpose at the green grass beyond or perhaps follow the flight path of a hungry gull. An explosion of motion breaks the silence as the confident flip of the slugger’s bat seems so simple to understand. A pause in the ball and bat encounter silences the crowd. When will the batter strike another? I seem to be hypnotized by this anticipation of action.

Whether old and young surrounds me this afternoon, it makes no difference. We all play the game in our mind according to own dreams for ourselves. Dust flies from spiked shoes to remind children to run swiftly. Female groupies admire the sculpted sinews of the flying baserunner with hopes of meeting the rich man of their dreams. A son longs to play catch again with his departed father. In the batter’s zeal to steal second base, an old timer grabs for his time-tested scorecard to record the action that his experience senses what will inevitably happen. The crowd boos with disgust as the catcher’s throw skips swiftly beyond the awaiting infielder. Is it possible that these spectators misjudge this error in view of their own life imperfections?

Turn back the clock to the simpler times of our youth as the pure joy of baseball surrounds you. Strike or ball, safe or out, fair or foul, no matter of gray will confuse our mind today. As adults, we often lose sight of the spirit of play in the complex matters of career and family. Turn off your mind now and imagine the baseball game as your sole point of interest. You might catch a foul ball or obtain that long sought autograph of your baseball hero. Silence your cellphone and enjoy the company of those fans of the game who surround you. If nothing else, have fun now.

Does it really matter which team wins in the end today? You found a new baseball player to admire or gained new appreciation for your family past. You felt peace from life’s slowdown while forgetting your deepest fears. You experienced the beauty of nature or acquired a newly prized baseball memory. You can be reassured that there will always be another baseball game to look forward to. As you become more appreciative of the present moment, is it wrong to think that the magic of baseball may never end?. If nothing else, have fun now.

As a longtime resident of South Florida, you become accustomed to the winter season, when hordes of tourists come to town for a brief glimpse of tropical paradise. You would normally expect then that our community would make an ideal spot for welcoming an extraterrestrial (ET) visitor from another galaxy. However, life has changed dramatically since our country has elected its first, reality TV star as President. A general distrust of others today pervades our country as our media – brainwashed citizens willingly subject themselves to a litany of lunatic rants and diatribes from their celebrity leader. The local airwaves are now filled with talk about erecting protective walls, deporting all foreigners, and confronting those in opposition with violent force.Under such conditions, imagine how the first encounter of intelligent ET beings with earthlings might occur in South Florida?

It is a typical, weekday afternoon in balmy Miami. While arriving vacationers dream of the hedonistic pleasures of South Beach, commuter traffic crawls predictably slow on Interstate 95 in the daily escape north to the surrounding suburbs. Suddenly, a ring of light appears in the eastern sky. From its center, a crystalline disc drops down to the earth at great speed from its seaward position, and lands near a line of stopped vehicles waiting to enter a north ramp to I-95. Due to recent U.S. aggression in South America and Mexico, the mood of our community can be described as already tense. It is eminently clear now that this unidentified blockage of a major, South Florida right of way might pose a potential security threat of major proportion. National and local media TV markets will soon interrupt regular 5:00 pm, programming of the President’s new favorite show, “You Are a Loser Compared to Me,” to report “Breaking News”,  that an invasion from outer space is happening now in the vicinity of downtown Miami. How would highly intelligent beings from outer space view us then? Would they perceive us as a knowledgeable and hospitable people?

Conversations on ET Spacecraft 5:05 pm. EST

Sargon, There is a flat expanse of terrain running parallel to the earth sun. (highway). Let us secure a position near this space. Many of these inhabitants appear to carry shiny objects in their rectangular tubes of travel (passenger vehicle). I have learned that the human name for them is gun. I reason that they must use these mechanisms to obtain more nourishment for themselves.”

Yes, Zibula, these are several characteristics that appear to be human. I also observe that these inhabitants make use of their nourishment guns frequently with curious upright gestures of their right appendage (hand) accompanied by a thrusting (finger) ritual they call “shooting a bird.” It also appears that their search for provisions involves an excess of loud, mouth vibrations (profanities) and a shrill, warning burst (horn) from the front of their travel tube vehicle. I think there are many that must be very hungry.

Sargon, I have established contact with one of the inhabitants. This humanoid has no gun and calls itself homeless. It has informed me that there are many beings here with the same name who lack basic nourishment. Such Humanoids must have a great need for a nourishment gun. Perhaps we can provide them with our own Sustenance Synthesizer (device for growing food without soil or sunlight) for growing unlimited amounts of nourishment.

Zibula, I have determined that their guns can also be used as weapons to kill. Why don’t they make peaceful use of these devices to help nourish the homeless ones? We must show them that our own nutrition – producing mechanisms do not intend to kill. Let us package our food production gifts to their leaders now as a token of our concern.

While the aliens ponder a way to present their gestures of peace to humans, the rapidly evolving situation intensifies as a nervous citizenry hears of this impending tragedy.

Emergency Broadcast, Miami Florida 5:10 pm EST

On the Scene Report. 1 – An unidentified flying vehicle has just landed in the northbound entrance lane of Interstate Highway #95.  Traffic has been halted for security reasons in both directions although a sizable number of bystanders from surrounding areas have amassed near the scene. It is believed that the situation is tense amongst the onlookers in fear that an outsider threat is imminent in our community.

On the Scene Report 2 – An Armed Citizenry Team has surrounded the alien object and is currently conducting a thorough investigation of the threat potential. No enemy organization has as yet claimed responsibility for this action. We urge everyone to remain vigilant and be on the lookout any suspicious activity. Weapons and ammunition can be purchased immediately at major retail stores, for your personal protection.

On the Scene Report 3 – The alien spacecraft has issued a message that has been encrypted by our security forces.  “We come in peace and wish to assist you. We offer new ways to help you obtain food for your homeless species.” Do not consider from these words that the threat to our community is over. I repeat, we cannot trust these intruders.

Final On the Scene Report – A few minutes ago, a local citizen team attempted to secure the mystery space vehicle. As the occupants of the vessel were attempting to exit the spacecraft , carrying suspicious bags in their possession, the safety of these officials was considered to be threatened. All of the aliens were then killed in the line of duty. It was also reported that several commuter onlookers surrounding the scene were shot in the confusion. Please note that tonight’s football game between the Butcherers and the Annihilators at the arena will not be delayed

Implications for the Political Arena

Boys brandish guns to defend their macho manhood, Hunters shoot animals for sport but innocent animals cannot fire back. Our prisons overflow with violent prisoners who have no conscience for their malicious actions. When are people going to realize that our public servants will not bring an end to such savagery as long as they glorify aggression and hate at the expense of a peaceful mankind. It seems necessary for us to examine the possibilities of an outer world in the blue sky above as an answer to this question.

Summary of the Novel

“The day is made up of 24 hours and an infinite number of moments. We need to be aware of those moments and make the most of them regardless of whether we’re busy doing something or contemplating life.” –   Paulo Coelho

“The Witch of Portobello” is not a novel demonizing the life of an ugly sorceress who concocts black magic and nightmarish spells. It is the story of lovely Athena, an adopted daughter of Lebanese parents, now living in London. At this point in her young adult life, she has been divorced, raised a young son, and been rejected by the Catholic Church of her childhood. These matters , accompanied by the feeling that her gypsy mother has abandoned her in childhood, leads Athena along the path of distrust of herself and of those around her. Refusing to suffer in silence in her present state, however, she seeks refuge in the experience of travel.

Possessing this wandering spirit, Athena begins to open her eyes to new experiences. She journeys to the Middle East to discover the spontaneous freedom of calligraphy as well as the meditative power of dance, Feeling curious about the origins of her gypsy past, Athena travels to Romania to seek the whereabouts of the mother who had rejected her. They successfully reunite to discuss the gypsy belief that there is a strong, spiritual power within that every human possesses. Based on these conversations, Athena returns to London now feeling strongly that this knowledge of her gypsy past has awakened unique abilities – communicating with the dead, prophesizing the future and recognizing the presence of true love in a feminine spirit.

In returning home to England, Athena becomes a cult figure in her community. She conducts talks at night to help-seeking audiences as a way to test her new powers with strangers. In these sessions, she encourages dancing with unaccustomed movements and rhythms, enters into deep trances to predict the future, and espouses a “goddess diet” for eating more not less for obtaining happiness. Her rising popularity though leads to controversy as god-fearing, Christian threats against her life appear and legal actions are filed to stop her from performing these witchlike demonstrations. In spite of the continuing furor, Athena expresses continued confidence to remain a martyr for being what she believes she truly is. Tragically, Athena’s life ends in a news report of her brutal murder, whereupon the evidence to explain this tragedy will be mysteriously tampered with.

Personal Reflections

Snippet 1 – Athena’s traveling spirit becomes an impetus for greater awareness of the present moment.

I have often felt trapped by the pressure to survive as a teacher in a competitive world. Blinded by the need to plan ahead for my lessons or look back at my past learnings in college, I would lose sight of experiencing the present. Seeking a way to relax from such mind chatter, I noticed that holidays away from home helped me to center my attention in the now more. I most recently experienced such a revelation last summer. On a summer road trip from Florida to California, a decision to retrace the path of the Oregon Trail , allowed me to experience the “here and now” desolation of distance and harshness of topography that land – seeking families faced in the pioneer days of 19th century America.

Snippet 2 – Athena learns that becoming an independent, gypsy wanderer will allow her to become an active participant in overcoming her self-insecurities and having less fear of the unknown in such circumstances.

Taking an organized tour in travel makes good sense for many. Lazily sailing from port to port on a cruise or queuing up with your guide for the next bus tour, you are freed from many of the burdens that accompany your next vacation. On the other hand, to choose to be held hostage to a fixed, cruise port schedule or to keep pace with of guided bus offers no more than a passive escape to me. The strategy of independent travel seems to represent a more active travel option for me in my quest to market myself more confidently as a blogging practitioner. Amassed with practical apps that offer GPS Technology, language translation and social media communication. I feel that I feel fully capable of customizing my own course of travel. One of my earliest, blogging endeavors recorded my impressions of Old Lisbon on a walking experience last October, I had initially imagined myself facing the haphazard array of medieval paths in the Alfama area as a hapless fool trapped in a frustrating maze of confusion. Having resisted the urge to locate a local bus or hop on a streetcar, I flipped on my I Phone and plotted a simple, Google map to and from five, interesting sights in the area. As I could not translate well the Portuguese signs surrounding me, I again consulted my cell for Google English conversion as needed. Feeling empowered by these accomplishments, this short venture into the unknown ended with several photos shared on Facebook as inspiration for attracting new blog followers.

Snippet 3 – Athena’s curiosity to seek new places and experiences engenders a spiritual direction to her life.

The principles of organized religion in my life confuse me. Given an inability to understand how violence and war have been used to justify holiness throughout the world today and in past history, I seek places in travel that might provide a more peaceful path to spirituality. At such times, I appear to be particularly drawn to places of unique, natural beauty. You might consider them my own sacred pilgrimages.

The geological size and complexity of the South Rim of the Grand Canyon in Arizona is one of breathtaking beauty. As my eyes gaze down toward the colorful evidence of multiple layers of rock deposit, I realize that I have been privileged to witness the natural evolution of our earth’s history over eons of time . The chronicle of my own life, while insignificant in comparison, remind me that similar satisfaction can be attained when I accept my own aging process gracefully.

Paris offers a multitude of tourist pleasures for the European traveler. My path to the “The City of Light”, however, seeks to find inner sanctity from the natural setting there. The “Parc Floral de Paris”, a few miles east of the right bank core, offers an ideal respite for calming my mind . Whenever I visit there, I absorb a soothing feeling of oneness – all peoples are accepted there. The intimacy of a French couple holding hands next to a duck pond, the joyful dance of a bride and groom at a Middle Eastern marriage ceremony, an Eastern European backpacker dribbling a prized soccer ball between his feet … these moments I have witnessed there awaken my mind to the idea that in each stranger along my path, there is an ideal source for relaxing contemplation.

Mountain hiking in Switzerland can be challenging to the novice walker. To make matters easier, however, Swiss paths are always well-marked by distance/destination and provide periodic hut retreats along the way for shelter and conversation. Such Swiss commitment to detail provides me with assurances that I can never be truly lost on a day hike there. Under these well-planned, mountaineering conditions, my more relaxed stroll along the ridge allows my senses to become more attuned to the subtle clues of nature that surround me. A sudden cracking of ice from a glacial landslide, a gentle clang of cowbells as I near an Alpine meadow, a brief glimpse of a hoary marmot peering for danger near his freshly dug hole. The broken silence at these moments can never be forgotten as I gaze with awe at the snowy peaks surrounding me.

I stand again in awe amidst the mountains of my intellectual youth. These proud edifices of knowledge at the University of South Florida (USF) revive memories of a restless time, fueled by endless tensions of student discontent. We challenged our professors to provide relevance to their lectures and demanded action to prove their worth in a turbulent world. It seemed we were always one.

On the USF campus each weekend, we mellowed to folk sounds at the “Empty Keg” as we laughed innocently at our green beer servers. Flaunting our long hair and hippie attire, we demanded our right to be groovy. In the darkened recesses of our cave, shouts of Tolstoy and Marx filled the air. We realized in these moments that our generation must be listened to.

Standing atop a grassy knoll nearby the Student Center, our peace signs protested the hypocrisy surrounding us. What gave our government the right to require us to serve in a war we did not believe in? Why did our President lie to us about our place in the world order? Why were the rights of women and blacks still ignored by the political process? Our gathering on this sacred ground would sustain our momentum for change.

Now it has all gone quiet. Paying homage to our digital device culture, great thinking no longer serves the day on campus. Is there hope for rebellion when students stand passively in Starbucks today to discuss their latest latte? I watch students walk busily to class as if there is no time to linger now in thought. A drop in and drop out commuter culture rules the day.

Where is the groove found now? A crowded, parking lot cannot replace the sacred, protest hill of my youth. A meaningless barrage of Facebook messages will never suffice for gatherings of true, intellectual thought. The jock image of a football jersey debases the world-changing purpose of scholarship that I sought in the USF experience. We all got up to dance for revolution but they will never get a chance.

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” Ralph Waldo Emerson”

My “Traveler’s Mind” draws positive energy from the unexpected place. Allow me to step into worlds where I have freedom of choice to explore on these terms without fear of safety or physical confinement. Having these parameters in mind, I describe five of my globetrotting aspirations for the upcoming decade.

I wish to experience the serenity of Buddhism surrounded by green mountains in a Tibetan monastery. Listening to the healing tones of music bowls and meditative chanting, my physical and emotional health can be nurtured.

I desire to jump high in the air again with the Maasai Tribe of Kenya as their happy faces fill my mind with unconditional acceptance. Their sacred cows will surround me as a reminder that animals should have rights as humans do.

I aspire to tango into the night with my wife in Argentina to teach me to be feel romantic as I grow older. The evening will conclude with a sip of mate tea in the company of Argentinian scholars.

I feel the urge to walk among iguanas and sea tortoises in the Galapagos Islands, who have little to fear of the human kind. With my curiosity about the isolation of this land enhanced, I will climb to the remnants of an ancient volcano to embrace the geological evolution that has taken place there.

As a longtime resident of South Florida, I rarely experience the passing of seasons. My love of nature motivates me to finish a novel in a lonely, Colorado cabin as the beauty of each month surrounds me in unanticipated wonder.

Hop aboard the prairie schooner. The Old West calls me to think more deeply today as my presence in a world of urban survival fades away in this dry stillness of the endless prairie. Imagine joining a caravan of Conestoga settlers, seeking a better life toward the setting sun. What kind of life did their adventures west tell me to live?

The signs of a simpler time are everywhere. A sagebrush lies parched near a fence to nowhere. Its desolation provides a beautiful relief from the inhumanity of urban congestion. A hungry vulture circles its intended prey to remind me that I eat to live rather than live to eat. A westbound locomotive whistles in the distance to announce its escape from the incessant call of the eastward clock. Clearly, I must find a slower pace of life now that will allow me to think more attentively.

As I return home to my competitive world eastward, I will test this resolve to be more aware of my surroundings. As the privacy of my auto can no longer entomb me in a blinded race to my destination, I will find more scenic roads to travel on. Since the convenience of a cellphone ring no longer claims highest priority of my attention, I will find silence in the present moment. When faced with deceptive spins of fast food marketers, I will take the time to shop for healthier options.

My message in this blog reminds one that a successful journey begins in the mind. You can never know what unexpected moments will change your life in the future. As you step out into the world every day, you must make time to stop, breathe, and listen inwardly. Enjoy your traveling mind.

I do have an adventurous spirit but one might wonder why it was inspired by rocks? A red rocks panorama in Sedona, Arizona inspired thoughts about natural beauty as I blogged with Owldragonash today.The imaginative scenes of natural beauty in her virtual entry, “Do You Have an Adventurous Spirit?” reminded me of an unusual title I earned on a camping excursion across the Outback interior of Australia. Here is the story about how I was given that name.

My American name is James but I more commonly am called Rockman. It is advisable to pack lightly for long distance travel but my bags of stones could never be left behind. I had not realized the importance of rocks on earth until I completed an Introductory Geography course in college. Everywhere I traveled after that, it seemed I needed to analyze geological patterns of color shape, and origin in rocks that surrounded me. No pebble was too small for a quick inspection and a boulder could occupy my time forever it seemed.

On a camping tour of Australia then, I felt I had entered rock heaven .As our bus completed the long journey across the reddish rocks across the Outback, I amassed a sizeable collection of Aussie rocks. They became increasingly difficult to carry. I often consulted my guidebooks for facts about my samples and became somewhat of a rock expert in my conversations with my traveling companions. I was truly a rock nerd among these friends and thus was bestowed the title of Rockman.

It would not occur to me then how I might be missing the real magic of rocks. I more recently learned through practicing yoga that there is beautiful energy in rock presence that no geological inspection could ever reveal. I also recognized that because of my new awareness, I did not have to travel far to experience the magical aura of a lonely rock whose smooth touch seeks to comfort me in troubled times. So take a hike today and be open to the presence of your Rockman soul.

I have always loved to drive. Time restrictions of career, though, had dictated that car trips meant arriving at my destination quickly. Blinded by such ambitions, I had never pondered if this travel paradigm would ever change.

Picture me now as I settled into retirement. When the pressures of work ended, I now wanted to discover this country mile by mile in the adventurous spirit of the Western pioneer.  I yearned to experience the sun as it rose with red bravado in the desert. It made perfect sense for me to reject the distractions of city life so I could become more cognizant of nature’s calling. It was time to travel on my terms now.

Turning to my family past, I considered a hard- working father. After a distinguished career as an Air Force Bombardier in World War II, he had returned home to raise a family with little time to see the country that he had fought courageously for. “Give me a light Vic”, I recall him often saying to my mother when he smoked his Winston’s on our once a year vacations from Ohio to Florida. As he casually flicked the ashes of his cigarette into the lighters not those occasions, it was always full speed ahead to our nightly motel destination.

As his tragic path to urban mindlessness haunts me today, I observe a red crag on a dusty road to the right  ahead. I will not allow the mechanistic calls of my GPS to deter me now and must trust my intuition to guide me where I wish to go. Realizing that there will be ample time to reach my intended destination later, I slowly veer toward this paragon of natural beauty. I have never felt so alive!

One would expect the American prairie of Nebraska to be a flat and monotonous ride across endless farmland. It was to my surprise then that a conspicuous sign appeared, “Fort Morgan – boyhood home of Glenn Miller”. My curiosity had become aroused in a time warp of old time America and I had to find out why.

Stopping at the next rest stop, I noticed an amazing array of literature describing towns to visit by car. To my surprise, I read that a “The Lincoln Highway” still traversed Nebraska as a reminder of a time when Americans cars first traveled America’s transcontinental highway.It’s parallel path along the North Platte River provided evidence of how dangerous waterways paved the road west for 19th century pioneers.

Stopping for lunch, I then noticed differences in vocabulary. A touchdown did not refer to a football score, but a place where a raging tornado would reach land from the sky. Pop became a refreshing drink rather than a convenient term for a father. I became fascinated to know if such terms were signs that these prairie people were not up with the times.

With this thought in mind, we now visited a past neighbor who had recently moved to Lincoln Nebraska. Expecting the typical tourist trap tour, I gazed wondrously at slickly rebuilt glass towers with grassy gathering places nearby. Silicon Valley in Nebraska could not be far from the truth.

I looked further into the irony of my surroundings. A plethora of people from many nationalities inhabited spacious parks that day. Modern Refugee Centers had been strategically placed to serve those that had recently arrived. Downtown slum areas had been replaced by rows of new housing in oddly shaped barn frameworks. Front doors were left open to suggest trust in the safety of their neighborhoods.

I then became distracted by hunger. Growing tired of endless fast food establishments, we spotted a lonely donut shop. As the shop was closing soon, the donuts were already packed away. Surely we would be told the shop was closed. To my surprise, after I ordered my one pastry limit, the waitress warmly greeted us with an entire box of gourmet donuts for free. The owner then arrived to warmly entertain me with travel tips in Lincoln although I suspected there was a catch to her cordial ways. Visions of Norman Rockwell rang true then to vanish these doubts.

With eyes turned eastward, I realize that these hallowed flatlands have given me a sense of history that is often not found in my crowded, urban life combined with a surprisingly cosmopolitan friendliness of the places I saw. The plains will never be plain for me again.