May 17, 2010
Being a feather in the wind is more difficult than it sounds in a self-help primer. Simply (hah!) detach yourself from concentrating on everything. Free in the wind means that you go where you are intended to go, not to the place that you’ve rationalized is the ‘correct’ pla
ce to go. This strategy is true of career, family and friends. I’m certain that history’s great men followed the signs that direct them to their futures. We are largely foolish if we ignore the energy of the world entirely and discount the world’s road signs as coincidence.
While I don’t believe in fate in its purest sense (that our life is a series of predetermined actions), I do believe that certain things happen for a reason beyond our immediate understanding. Giving power to that belief, I’ve chosen to follow my mind rather than my thoughts in many instances on this trip, often pleasantly surprised and mystified by the results.
At one point yesterday, I found myself seemingly lost in a maze of small streets. I had been roaming the city for hours, letting my mind wander as I passed the red light booths, trading glances with the flirtatious girls...I bobbed in and out of interesting stores that boasted everything from high fashion to the unmentionables that would make my parents blush. Each time I left a shop, I didn’t worry about where I was going or if I went back the same way I came. I made a decision early in the morning that getting lost was ok, even a healthy way to enjoy this city (and maybe life?).
The interesting facet of this story is that just as my feet started to get tired and I felt like a nap
was in order, I began to feel concerned, maybe even a bit worried that I was a long way from the hotel and I would be completely worn and sore by the time I reached the hotel. Without thought, I proceeded in the direction I was headed, and in one block I was at the hotel. My mind was secretly looking out for me.
I think that our minds tend to look out for us often, but our thinking process tries to second guess instinct, which is where most of our own individual conflict arrises. Trust yourself doesn’t mean trust your thinking, it means trust yourself to make an action without over thinking and analyzing a situation. I’m quite captivated with the concept.
Our minds are our most powerful allies. This is true as long as we can keep our own thoughts from interfering with our true instincts. For those of us lucky enough to have our minds in proper working order, it’s important to recognize that the greatest triumph we can aspire to is in owning our own self and controlling none other.
All this is to say that my trip has happened largely on it’s own, in fact, planning for every stage in advance would likely have left me in dire straits, either stuck in a dangerous situation or accruing costly travel change fees as I adjusted and listened to my environment. I have moved from city to city with no plans or onward flights. This is fortunate, because I have been dodging rather significant world tragedies, starting with the violent red shirt protests in Bangkok. Just hours after I decided to abandon plans to visit that city, the first round of Thai violence erupted. In India, I flew through Bangalore, missing a failed bomb attack in the city center by a day. In Greece, I left Athens 2 days before rioting resulted in the death of 3 Greek men, and this was just 1/2 mile from my room in that city.
I cannot attribute the change in mentality to Yoga alone, but I did experience an inordinate number of good moments during my week in Crete. After 5 days of yoga, I woke up without pain in my back for the first time in 6 months. I performed an ambitious back bend that surprised
most of the class along with a proper head stand. I juggled for the first time ever, despite years of trying. Midweek I took a ride to Spili, a small town 30 minutes from Triopetra...after 5 days of a macrobiotic diet, I was hungry for a small Greek lamb...heheh, that sounded funny, I have never been as happy eating lamb chops as I was that afternoon in Spili in front of about 14 jealous holiday vegetarians. I spent a confusing evening trying to find my chakras in order to both tune and align them, though I gave up after humming in concert for about an hour.
The retreat ended with a farewell meal at an incredible seaside restaurant that grew all of its own produce and ingredients for their meals. The next morning I woke up early to leave before most folks woke up. Fittingly, leaving my new
friends to drive to the nearest town (Amounia), I picked up an old man, about 70, hitchhiking on the side of the very desolate road (I’d be surprised if 20 cars passed on this road in a day). He spoke no English, but despite that fact, he kept me from worrying about getting lost in an area that has absolutely no street signs. The major highway in Crete is simply called the ‘new road’, which should give some indication of the rural nature of the island. The old man invited me to join he and his friends for a cafe leche at the local coffee shop he asked for me to leave him at. I politely declined and continued on my way, just happ
y.
I drove into the town of Heraklion for a night to get a taste of a bigger Cretan city before my flight the following day. I found a hotel in the city center through a travel agent and then went out to see a movie - I saw Clash of the Titans (in 3D) in Crete...being at the heart of Greek civilization and watching Roman G-ds battle mythological monsters in 3D was perfectly timed. For local color, I’ll add that there was an intermission in the middle of the movie.
The next morning I headed to the airport for an early morning flight. I decided to make a trip to visit Sandra and John, the Dutch couple I had met in Goa a month earlier. They had offered a sincere invitation for me to come and visit if I could make it to Holland before returning to the states. I was thrilled that they were excited to have me as a guest as well.
On landing in a characteristically overcast Amsterdam, the pilot calmly offered, “Amsterdam is a wonderful city, but it should have a roof.” No doubt. The city was cold and dank, and I soon learned I was a few months shy of the summer weather I’d just left. First purchase, a trenchcoat and scarf to keep me warm over my summer travel gear, with socks and shirts layered in multiples. The streets of Amsterdam are the perfect setting to walk alone and enjoy the time with yourself thinking about nothing, just experiencing a quiet street.
Amsterdam also has the most incredible cigar store in the world, literally. The century+ year old Hajenius cigar store has everything that I could ever need to enjoy a good scotch and an expertly rolled cigar, even thin flecks of cedar to enhance the flavor while lighting the cigar. The 2,500 sqft. well-preserved relic evidences a much more beautiful and ornate time. The hardwood paneling covers most walls of the glassed-in smoking library, a sitting room, study area, a bar serving coffee & tea and most importantly, scotch. The display of pipe tobacco and mearsham pipes was presented like a first-rate museum. I would recommend this shop to anyone who appreciates these things.
John Franck picked me up in Amsterdam. We drove out to Nordweig, his residence and his birthplace. We took a tour through the coastal town, and he pulled me by Mr. Heineken’s home, where his surviving daughter now lives. Freddy Heineken used to walk around the town regularly when John was a boy until his kidnapping in the 1980’s. The kidnappers were paid the equivalent of about 20 million dollars. Since then, the Heineken family has maintained a lower-profile, primarily living inside the walls of their gated property.
My hosts were incredible, and I was extremely lucky to have them as my Holland guides. Within
minutes of arriving at their home, tucked onto a classic Holland waterway, I was greeted by John and Sandra with fresh tomatoes, wine, beer, pate and crackers. They invited John’s brother, their neighbors and their buddy Matai to join us on the porch for appetizers and cocktails.
Matai was hilarious, the Dutch version of my buddy Rick, possibly the best friend any bachelor party could ever have. Matai is the type who could have written an even better and more raucous script for Animal House. This hulking Dutchman sleeps about 4 hours a night, drives motorcycles and deals in bottled water for a living. Despite the expectation that his sense of culture would extend as far as the keg, he proved to be more worldly than I could have imagined with fact from the streets of Amsterdam to the ashrams of Asia. The most interesting man?, certainly a close second.
The first morning, after a prepared breakfast, John showed me more of the city including the amazing gravestone for his father Cor Fraank that John had designed and commissioned a few
months ago. John’s Dad had worked for Heineken for 40 years, and even today a production line at the Heineken plant is named for him.
Afterwards, I joined John on his day-trip to Utrect, a beautiful European city with tiny canals and small walking streets. I ambled through the small quiet city for an hour while he met with a client of his Healthcare business, and then we reconnected and headed to Leiden for a lunch of chicken gyros and fries hidden by glorious mayonnaise.
Knowing of my interest and career in Fine Art and Antiquities, John made appointmen
ts for me to visit with his friend Sebastian, a well-researched collector of Greek & Roman antiquities. He scheduled an evening meeting with another friend Aad, a collector/dealer in Dutch paintings. Both visits were interesting vignettes of unusually eclectic and unusual personalities.
Throughout my time with John I saw many similarities in our lives, our attention to family and friends, career ambition, and a healthy recognition of ourselves for both the good and bad. His friendship was a nice affirmation of my life progress.
Sandra was an attentive host, a prim and proper lady with the ability to stomach John and Matai’s Dutch humor. A good sport and kind woman in every way. She translated difficult words for John and I, and she made the perfect companion for our outings.
John and Sandra drove 30 miles to Amsterdam to see me off at a going away dinner at Nam Kee chinese restaurant. We had dinner and drinks and then said our goodbyes. I headed back to the Victoria Hotel to pack my bags before shipping off the next morning for a 22 hour journey to DC through London and JFK.
The challenge of being back in the US is in maintaining the outlook that I have worked so hard to incorporate during my travels. Focus on the now, allow myself to follow signs, and breathe deeply. These mantras seem much easier alone, under the instruction of a Yogi, or surrounded by 15,000 devout Hindu’s, but how will I react in comfortable situations where the status quo is long established?
My first leg of my US travels is in DC, visiting my cousin Geoffrey and Uncle Glenn, and my friend Sharon. Without strain or pressure, this new mindset seems to be working much better already. Blocking out concern with the future, or thoughts of the past, I find it so much easier to cultivate stronger relationships focusing on the moment and the conversations in front of me. There’s still room for my independence, though I’m still learning how this all plays out. My trip is not over, and I have a feeling my learning has only just begun.
Love from your ever-present friend,
Jared
Those of us who have been following Ron's work for years can tell you that he's produced far more major works than this ripe pair of Mickeys, so the sky is the limit for the works of this Billboard revolutionary. Celebrity collectors have added English's works to their collection, and it's a well-known fact that musician Slash has several pieces of Ron's work. 
English's stock is on the rise. Ron was featured briefly in the movie Exit Through the Gift Shop, a film directed by another artistic rebel, Banksy, the anonymous street artist whose works have sold through Sotheby's and Christie's for millions of pounds. If you don't know Ron's story, add his documentary 'The Art & Crimes of Ron English" to your Netflix queue. You won't be disappointed. Here's a clip of the pre-documentary teaser reel: 
