Modern Angst on the San Jose Burbank Shuttle
I try to fly early as a matter of convenience. If you wait until 8:00 AM the security line at San Jose can back out to the street. And Burbank on a Friday afternoon is a zoo...better get there ahead of time or you'll be stuck in the security line when your plane leaves.
For some reason I have always enjoyed watching America wake up...Dallas, LA, Chicago...a fresh new day as folks start their work. There is something hopeful about a new day that is not there when the day is over. This morning is still fresh and there is still plenty of hope...
We climb out of San Jose and I can see the Monterey Bay: Santa Cruz, Watsonville, Salinas, Monterey. Over the years I have come to know hundreds of people in these towns. Many still live there and many have left. It is a bit sad to think all those people -- some good friends -- that are no longer a part of my life. Being an adventurer has its price; not all is thrills and fond memories and a story. Part of it is having to leave people and places behind -- places and people one becomes very attached to.
I sometimes envy those that grow up in a town and live there all their lives. They may or may not have as much adventure, but they have the experience of long term relationships. And being from a small town does not mean one is necessarily a redneck; some of these people in small towns are the most sophisticated I have met with very advanced people skills. They tend to have very strong relationships and have a perspective that spans decades and lifespans with all the plusses and minuses of being part of a community, a family and knowing oneself and one's place. Yet for all that I would not trade one of my adventures...it's just not me.
I seem to have the good fortune of often sitting next to fashion models. They are always primping and checking their compact mirrors to see if their 'look' is right. After a while being beautiful must get boring. I get bored shaving the same face everyday. It's not that I dislike my face...I actually don't. I'm one of those not pretty/not ugly faces that do not stand out and one cannot recognize. Unlike the fashion model if you see me at a restaurant in San Francisco or on the beach in Tulum, you will see me but most likely not remember me. Like a chameleon, I just blend into the background.
And for that, I am eternally grateful. Not having to constantly primp and be recognized certainly makes for a more interesting life. I get to see all of life's gems; presented for my enjoyment in the unfiltered raw and I don't have to hide or show off. I feel sorry for those that are constantly putting on a show or running from one.
As I look down across coastal California I can see roads, houses and farms. I miss my jungle.
My day's assignment is to chat with the client CEO, pick up a check and work with the San Fernando Valley management team. All stuff I've done before; delegation, accountability, policies, write-ups, managing for productivity and customer service. I feel no stress whatsoever and will be back on the 3:15 to San Jose. What's not to like about this? I just miss my jungle.
My jungle friends think I am loco for even thinking of giving up such a dream job in a dream land. Maybe I am loco. They all say the paisanos are going through extreme measures to cross into the promised land of California...and here I am going the other way. Maybe it's contrarian -- but I don't think so. I need contrasts just as my Savannah Man Chungtzu ancestors needed contrasts. I, like them, are wired that way. If I don't get the contrasts I lose my edge and my neural systems begin to shut down. It's a lousy feeling being somewhere you really don't want to be. Krishnamurti called that fragmentation.
There is no place in the world as beautiful as coastal California. I raised a family here. And California has been good to me...I've developed as a person, businessman and family man. And in my own way developed into a more polished adventurer. There is no place on earth for opportunity like California.
I suppose I could sit back and settle down in my later years and do like everyone else; chit chat about the weather, sports and my kitchen remodel. But somehow I don't care very much about the weather and I've watched enough games for several lifetimes. And I certainly don't care much for cabinets, tile or grout. Maybe I'm under the illusion I'm too young and healthy to go out to pasture. I've seen what it does to folks...makes them goofy and soft in the brain. No edge. They walk around like robots; dyeing their hair the same color, wearing the same clothes, driving the same cars and even saying the same things. Spooky. I'll be ready to hang it up when I begin parroting those around me and the free and inquiring mind is gone. But until then...
One hot jungle morning around 2:00 or 3:00 I felt it in my bones. I knew the jungle was for me. The jungle was enchanting and I was enchanted and that was it. I keep going back and can't stay away...and I don't need a terrarium to see colored frogs. I don't need therapy, religion or a groupthink peer session. I don't need to sit around with a bunch of sensitive frustrated males and beat on drums. I don't need a drunken, lonely divorced forty something to boost my ego.
I've got love and my good sense still somewhat intact...at least for now. I've got a lifetime of experience and knowledge and can make it anywhere under any conditions. In fact, there really isn't much I need besides my wife and my head.
The only other thing I really need right now is my jungle.
