Oregon - Coming Home

Thompson Pass - Willamette National Forest

Dear Friends,

I have to go back a couple days. I spent Sunday night in some Idaho motel and by Monday evening I was cruising through downtown Bend, Oregon, a city of 80,000 - with perfect old brick turn of the last century buildings, trendy shops, art galleries and exotic restaurants, tucked into a very healthy looking city center - covering several blocks - with shade trees and a river running through it. Beautiful. It was after six when I arrived, and I wasn't hungry, and didn't want to stay in a motel. If I had I would have had trouble deciding what great looking restaurant to eat at. I did go to awonderful Whole Foods/type market - which was smaller but much nicer than Whole Foods. Made me want to buy all sorts of food I didn't need. Heading West and about twenty miles into the forest is a town called Sisters - it reminded me of Taos, but different. Taos was all adobe. Sisters looked like a designer town - perfectly laid out with only frontier buildings - all nestled in the pines. The perfect tourist town.

I spent Monday night under the tall Ponderosa Pines in the Willamette National Forest, not far from Thompson Pass. The United States is incredibly scenic, and I have passed through some amazing places - it is hard to rate the beauty of Mother Earth. I particularly love the pines. More than anything I love mountain pines and babbling brooks. So I have to say that the most stunningly beautiful place I had been on my whole journey was right there in the Willamette National Forest.

The Willamette National Forest was exactly what I was looking for in the Great Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. I'm sure its there by I never saw it like this. This was the first unobstructed 40 mile drive through pristine forests and rivers I had been on. Remarkably, there were no houses or stores - nothing by National Forest campgrounds and trails. Wooden bridges placed here and there went half-way over the river - just for the tourist's enjoyment of looking down. Plenty of places to stop and take pictures. In fact, once I got down to the bottom of mountain I wanted to turn around and go back up. The only reason I didn't was because my camera died - and of course there was no store to buy batteries. Some places just soothe the soul - and this was one of those places for me.

It's mid-September. The campground was empty. It was just me and the trees and the incredible silence. There isn't anything quite like being high in the mountains, with a refreshing chill in the air - cooking fried potatoes, eggs and toast - a blue cup of fresh brewed coffee in hand. Ahh. I think it would only have been better if I had a loved one to share the ahhh with.

After breakfast, I drove two hours to Corvallis, Oregon, where I graduated from High School in 1965. Which at this moment seems impossible from my current perspective. 45 years! On my way there I wondered why I had never been to Willamette National Forest, or even Albany which is only 11miles away. Then I remembered. I didn't have a car in high school. I could borrow my parents Cadillac or VW to go to the store or cruise some weekends - but take a road trip? No way. When I first came to Corvallis in 1962 I wanted to meet people, so in August I tried out for the football team. I had never played football in my life - and suddenly this 120 pound sophomore kid was being bowled over by 200 pound Senior linebackers. "Get up, Allison! Be a man!" Shit - what was wrong with being a boy?

After a week or so I couldn't get up. Literally. That was the end of my football career. In my Senior year one of the boys actually died in football practice - but I guess it was worth it - they were No.1 in the state of Oregon that year. The coach was a Nazi - but he did give me A's in PE all through High School - wondering why I didn't stick to it. He thought I had potential, even though I was trying out for running back next to his son - who ended up being All-State and college All-American. Anyway - unlike my visit to my Junior High in Columbus, Ohio - which looked just like I remembered it 50 years before - they recently mowed down the historic Corvallis High School - which was at least 50 years old in 1965 - and replaced it with a modern version. Below is the incarnation of the same place where I was almost died.

From Corvallis I went to McMinnville, where my Grandfather started a business called Pacific Reflex Signs back in 1949. Five brothers inherited it when he died in 1962 - and since they were remote owners, all sorts of shenanigans took place - manager after manager who invented ways to report income, if you know what I mean. Long story - but amazing that they are still in business 61 years later. Now the cousins, sons and daughters of the four brothers (one of the five did time as a manager) are inheriting the struggling business. I hadn't been there in about 40 years when I walked in the door yesterday and introduced myself as one of the Allison's. I told them that as an artist I had been thinking of ideas for the business for 30 years - but my father didn't want to hear it. Unfortunately. By the time I left, the gals working there offered me an office, all the computers and graphic equipment I wanted - to help them save the business and their jobs. I may just do that.

Tomorrow I'll write about my night in the Poor House - and my return to Seattle.

With love and blessings, David Dakan Allison

On the Road Again - Taos to Idaho

Dear Friends -

I began this trip on July 12th, exactly two months ago today. I've completed a loop from Idaho to Idaho, and tomorrow I will travel through Oregon, my 22nd state - a journey that has covered 7500 miles. Here's a couple pictures of dashboard friends who have shared part of my journey. Behind the "Born to Be Wild" sign is a loon - reminding me that it is alright to be as wild and crazy as a Loon.

I left Saturday morning, following a fun visit with my Taos family. On the way out of town I stopped by a canyon and met an Indian man named Kevin. He happened to be standing in front of another guy who was selling Indian drums and gourd rattles. Upon my request Kevin sang some Indian songs with a rattle while the other guy drummed - all of which I recorded but don’t know how to share with you. It was very cool. When I mentioned I was from Kauai, Kevin told me his favorite place on earth is the Kalalau Valley. (below)

Not far outside of Taos I came upon a scattered village of earth homes. Here’s a couple of them. By the way, I had a good visit in Taos. It's a lovely place. They have a building code and ALL the buildings are made with adobe - and I don't think any one is more than three stories tall. And by the way, there's some beautiful women there - made me think a little bit about romance. You know I'm just an old dog. A lot of my time there was spent in studying Human Design. It's helping me to understand myself better as the days and weeks go by . . . helping me to love myself more and see clearly how I fit in the rhythm of life.

Earth Homes - half sticking out of the sage brush

I continued on out of New Mexico and into Colorado. Durango is a happening town. Driving up into the Rockies I was struck by the raw beauty.

San Juan Pass 14,000 feet

Ouray, Colorado - Switzerland in the middle of the Rockies

A rich and vitally alive small town - not far from the trendy Telluride ski resort

At peace, driving farther north I entered Utah. The rocks I like - Salt Lake City I don't like.

As I drove down the highway hour after hour, I get lost in the beauty that surrounds me. Half the time I drove in silence, and other times I picked music that added to the ambiance. Today this song by Jewel came on at the most appropriate time:

(You’d say) Gravity is gravity, It doesn’t try to pull you down.

Stone is stone, It can’t help but hold its ground

The wind just blows, though you can’t see; It’s everywhere like I’ll always be

You already are what you are - And what you are is strong enough

Look in the mirror. Now that’s another story to tell.

I give love to others - But I give myself hell

I’d have to tell myself, “In every scene there’s a perfect plan.”

Everything I hoped to be I already am

A flower is a flower - It doesn’t have to try to bloom.

And light is light - Just knows how to fill a room

And dark is dark - So the stars have a place to shine

The tide goes out - So it can come back another time

Goodbye makes a love so sweet. And love is love so it can teach us

We already are what we are - And what we are is beautiful

And strong enough - And good enough - And bright enough!

Blessings from the road, David Dakan Allison

Taos and my Gypsy Family

Dear Friends -

Life is truly a treat. I'm so very grateful having this wonderful 4Runner to travel the country in. Late Saturday night, after driving through Texas, I stopped at a remote campground outside of Clayton, New Mexico, rolled down the windows, crawled in back and slept like a baby. I much prefer my SUV bed over a Best Western motel, unless I need a shower.

Friday morning I left the Louisiana bayou, and by Sunday morning I was driving over a pass at 9100 feet on my way down to Taos, New Mexico. The last two nights I slept breathing in the crisp fresh 7000 feet Taos mountain air, parked in front of the home of my sisters Geoli and Susie.

How I met Geoli . . .

Anchorage Daily News, mid March 1980 classified ad: Cook Wanted. Willow Wind Restaurant, Homer, Alaska. Call ----------

The owner, David Allison, me, answered the phone, still mostly asleep. “It’s six in the morning.”

“I’m your cook. I’m ready to work. How do I get there?” the woman’s voice asked, without an excuse for the early morning intrusion. (not that I can remember)

“I’m sorry. The restaurant won’t be open until April,” I answered, almost ready to hang up.

“But I need work now. I’ll come right over. I’ll be the best cook you ever had.”

“Do you have any idea where Homer is?

“No.”

“It’s 250 miles from Anchorage and I’m sorry, I don’t have any work for you now.”

“What am going to do? It’s cold. I’m in a phone booth in some strange city at six in the morning. I need help.” (she was hired for a job under false pretenses, and quit on the morning of arrival in Anchorage from Las Vegas)

For some strange reason I responded, “Why don’t you call my mother? Maybe she can help you.”

Three hours later my mother called. “Who is this strange woman in my dining room?”

“You picked her up!!!”

Thus began my life-long relationship with my sister Geoli. Back in 1982 after my divorce, with her former husband Brandy, a full-blood Gypsy born on the high seas - with bad tattoos from hundreds of drunken seaport nights, she became my sons' nanny for a year. They introducing us to their wild, tumultuous, and crazy-real lifestyle. She taught me to read the Tarot, and we began a book we're still working on 28 years later, called Seven Lazy Steps to Enlightenment.

One of Chante's paintings

Geoli swept me into a whole new life philosophy - one of brutal honesty, a living testament to deep, but tough family love - with personal freedom and acceptance at the core. Once embraced into a Gypsy clan, you have a home and family for life, as do my sons and any friend I choose to bring in.

The moment I stepped in the door two days ago, after being lost in Kauai for twenty years, I naturally folded into the embrace of my sisters Susie and Geoli, and her 6'6" ex-con son Bart. My Gypsy life continued as if no time had passed. David, the long lost brother, was totally loved, accepted, healed, fed, whatever - and before I knew it the laughter and profanity and story telling/sharing began in a big huge unstructured Gypsy Druid, dogs and cats, bundle of love.

Welcome home.

And I was the brother who returned with new gifts. Suddenly the home was alive with Human Design. With HD their differences suddenly made sense. Everything that I had learned while away, was the perfect next thing for the family to know and embrace.

Geoli, now 73, is sort of a mongol blend of Gypsy, High Irish Druid Priestess, Elder Grandmother, and Cowgirl. She’s always known who she is, and who she is has never been New Age or a Seeker of anything. Geoli didn’t have to take workshops or classes. She just Knows; she is wise, wild and profane, brilliantly intelligent and brutally honest. Within a few hours she was explaining Human Design as if she had already mastered it. Susie, our Priestess sister, joined the family around forty years ago. She is currently in deep study of Human Design. I bought that $100 book to bring to her.

David Wilson, now a part of the family with Geoli, Susie and Bart, connects us/me with Louisiana and Tennessee. He was born not far from Monroe where my dear sister Chante, who painted the pictures I've included, lives, and he went to college in Louisiana. Davey was a Cherokee Jew - or so it seems, but it doesn't matter - he's now a Taos gypsy. He lived for many years in Chattanooga and knows my other sister June. It’s a very small world. He is now teaching me frisbee golf.

Another Chante painting

When I left on this journey I stated that I was looking for a home - looking for my family. As written, my journey has taken many unexpected and illuminating twists and turns. I’ve surrendered to signs and omens along the way, and the directives of my still voice within.

But what has become clear is that I have found bits and pieces of home and family along the way. Somehow I feel that it is all connected. My home and family is spread out all over the place; its not just here in Taos. There’s six different places I could live, and none of them are where I lived before. Maybe I'm simply a Gypsy story teller - with family homes scattered here and there, all filled with people I love: so far - Seattle - Copper Harbor & Detroit Michigan - Chattanooga - Monroe, Louisiana and Taos, New Mexico. I'm sure there will be others as I travel on.

For now, it is time for me to explore more of Taos. By the way - I met some other family members yesterday. They are making a Shaman movie. Check out their trailer: www.blackandgoldfilm.com Diane is the woman singing the song.

With continuing love and blessings,

David Dakan Allison

Texas - I'm Back in the Saddle Again

Dear Friends,

I don’t talk enough about my two sons, Alan on the left, sitting on a Harley Fat Boy, which I shipped over from Kauai as a trade for his 4Runner, which is currently in front of a Starbucks in Decatur, Texas, and Aaron on the right (I think it's an Old Milwaukee) on Alan’s wakeboard boat in Lake Union, Seattle - on the 4th of July. Alan is 33 and during weekdays he's highly responsible for the inner-workings of the University of Phoenix website. The rest of the time we aren't sure where he is. Aaron, almost 30, is a skilled and hard working carpenter, and is usually pretty easy to find. They share a house in Ballard, Seattle and are a bit of an odd couple. Next time, maybe, I'll post pictures when they aren't waring shades, riding bad boy bikes and drinking bad beer on boats. My boys are the best!

It’s a cloudless Texas morning and I’m about an hour north of Fort Worth preparing for the very long drive up to Wichita Falls, just south of Oklahoma, and then west to Amarillo. After leaving Monroe, Louisiana, the first city I stopped at was Shreveport, on the Red River in Northwest Louisiana. By the way, the Red River goes north then west for hundreds of miles, separating Texas from Oklahoma, and then all the way to Amarillo. Maybe I should have taken the boat? The mural below was on an old building in downtown Shreveport - and I estimate it to be about 80 feet high.


Back in Chattanooga we were joking about those old cotton fields back home. The song went like this, “When I was a little bitty baby my mama would rock me in the cradle. In them old cottonfields back home. It was down in Louisiana just about a mile from Texarkana, in them old cottonfields back home." I mention this only because for some strange reason I wanted to be in Louisiana - just about a mile from Texarkana. Actually. Well, Texarkana is a Texas town bordering Arkansas, and not even in Louisiana. But he was just a bitty baby, so how would he know? But if I would have driven there, then I could have vou le vou'd west to Paris, Texas . . . in another blog I wrote about going to Paris . . . Texas. Oh well.


So I went to Dallas instead. Here’s a few pictures:

I just knocked the shit off my cowboy boots, and by golly I realized that I’m actually in Texas!

"I'm back in the saddle again, out where a friend is a friend,

Where the long horn cattle feed on the lonely jimson weed

I'm back in the saddle again.

Ridin' the range once more, totin' my old forty-four,

Where you sleep out every night and the only law is right,

Back in the saddle again.

Whoopi ti yi yo, rockin' to a fro, back in the saddle again.

Whoopi ti yi yea, I'll go my own way Back in the saddle again."

Blessings from the Lone Star,

David Dakan Allison

The Fool - One Step at a Time

Dear Friends -

When I began this Ki Earth Journey and Journal, one brother advised me to forget about the books I had written or need to finish, and just write about my adventures on the road, and another brother said to do the same without the philosophizing.

I’m not sure what philosophizing means.

Imagine sitting by the ocean at sunset and describing the deep sea blues and the breaking surf as it hits the sandy shore, and the orange, red, purple blending sky behind the rich golden sun, the smells, the sounds and all of paradise. And then, suddenly to your surprise, just as the sun drops below the horizon - a most incredible emerald green light flashes at the point where it had just disappeared. You can’t help yourself - you are totally moved by what just happened. It’s not your mind thats moved. The mind could only blabber. It’s your heart and soul that responds to sudden beauty beyond words. This is exactly how I felt when I saw my first “green flash.”

Kauai Sunset - moments before a possible green flash

It is one thing to paint the picture of the scene - that’s important, but it is equally important to write about what is FELT. How did I feel at the moment of the green flash? Honestly, I felt blessed. I was almost moved to tears. And if I were to elaborate on what that blessing and the tears meant to me, I suppose it would be called philosophizing.

I’m sitting here and I can’t remember what day it is. Big trees, shrubs and plants border the green lawn in front of me, as it slopes down into the still Louisiana bayou. Just about everything I see in front of me, except the two hungry chickens, is a shade of green. It's like the sunset ocean green flash has been slowed down a billion times. I am so blessed.

In real time - right this very moment - in the I don’t remember what day it is, me and the chickens and the bayou time, I pull a card from the Osho Zen Tarot:

The Fool . . .

Moment to moment, and with every step, the Fool leaves the past behind. He carries nothing more than his purity, innocence and trust. He is in harmony with all that surrounds him. His intuition is functioning at its peak. At this moment the Fool has the support of the universe to make his jump into the unknown. Adventures await him in the river of life.

If you trust your intuition right now, your feeling of the ‘rightness’ of things, you cannot go wrong. Your actions may appear ‘foolish’ to others, or even to yourself, if you try to analyze them with the rational mind. But the ‘zero’ place occupied by the Fool is the numberless number where trust and innocence are the guides, not skepticism and past experience.

Whatsoever experience comes to you, let it happen, then go on dropping it. Go on cleaning your mind continuously; go on dying to the past so you remain in the present, here-now, as if just born, just a babe.

I’m almost half-way through Harriet Beecher Stowe’s classic 900 page Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Even after being ‘sold down the river’ (from Kentucky to New Orleans) as a slave, losing his happy home, wife and children to face what was known as the worst possible human degradation, Uncle Tom never lost his trust and faith - faith that all is good and blessed. Uncle Tom was the consummate Fool.

Uncle Tom as himself - the fool - simply observed and blessed it all, and guess what? Only good things happened to him. He went on dying to the past and remained in the present, here-now, as if just born, just a babe.

So, I’m accepting the Fool that I am. This Ki Earth journey is MY return to innocence. I'm just the fool writing about it. Writing about Me not having a care in the world, walking into danger with a shit eating grin on my face. I am truly blessed - no doubt - and all I can say is - what’s next?

Two days ago I was going to leave Monroe. My 'Mind,' not my heart/soul or my emotions, my mind, directed me back to Seattle. It had a bunch of "reasons." But other things happened - for example, for two months my mind didn’t want me to buy a $100 book - a $100 book!! But in the end, last week on Chattanooga my Soul directed it. It's becoming more obvious that my Soul Directive (foolish innocence?) is becoming more powerful than my Mind Directive. And therefore I’m staying here until the book arrives - whether it makes logistic sense or not.

I pulled the Fool card this morning because the deck was there - on the couch were I sat looking out upon the bayou. The fact that this tarot deck was even there is a miracle. Last winter almost everything Chante owned was consumed in a house fire here in Monroe. Her Zen Tarot deck was one of the few things (and the only made of paper) that survived the fire. It was like a gift for me. Two nights ago I pulled only one card from that deck. Yesterday morning I pulled only one card. In a well shuffled deck of 98 cards - I pulled the same card twice. Thus my souls message:

Ordinariness

Beauty can be found in the simple, ordinary things of life. We so easily take this beautiful world we live in for granted. Cleaning the house, tending the garden, cooking a meal - the most mundane tasks take on a sacred quality when they are performed with your total involvement, with love, and for their own sake, without thought of recognition or reward.

You are facing a time now when this easy, natural and utterly ordinary approach to the situations you encounter will bring you far better results than any attempt on your part to be brilliant, clever, or otherwise extra-ordinary. Forget all about making headlines by inventing the latest widget, or dazzling your friends or colleagues with your unique star quality. The special gift you have to offer now is presented best by just taking things easy and simply, one step at a time.

Blessings and continued love as this fool moves forward, one step at a time,

David Dakan Allison