from the dessert / dine bikeyah

Somehow (through my colleague Dr. Hynd's internet exploration), Chip's work came to be in my inbox. Graffiti, public art, rural art, or whatever else it can be called, I had the opportunity to learn more about his art, work and him.

I spent a week in northeastern Arizona. Everywhere was a place to be explored and discovered. The people are beautiful down there. Chip opened his doors to me and welcomed me to the Navajo Reservation.

One of the many memorable days was when driving down Route 16 (?). A husband and a wife stuck their thumbs out in greetings on the side of the ride. I picked up the two hitchhiking Navajos; it turned out it was the gentleman's 47 birthday so I drove us all to go hiking down into a canyon to see old ruins and celebrate his year of 47. Somewhere in there, he promised a three-day horsebacking riding trip to return to the same spot the next time I visited and she promised homemade flatbread in exchange for an introduction to vegetarian cooking.

A more complete capture of Chip's work and my shadowing of him can be found at MIT's CoLab Radio.

To Begin: 3 x 2

2010.

Welcome and hello. It's here.

There's an energy about this year. Everyone wants change. Everyone wants to embrace the good and start fresh -- to begin. Chris Brogan posted awhile back on how he sets a direction for the new year -- with three words. With hopes and optimism of new beginnings and new years, three words offer a fresh way to look at the new year.

For me, 2010 will be lived with intention, openness to what can be, and with simplicity.

With that intention, comes the beginning of three projects this year. I hope you'll join me.

1. The Junto is a story sharing project (the name comes from a group built by B. Franklin). I blogged about it before here. 10 people have signed up so far. You can be next.
   
   
2. The Traveling Book Club. Where you can read what you like, when you like, at the pace you like. Jot your notes the margins and send it on to the next person.
   
   
3. Laughter Collective. I am fascinated by and forever passionate about laughter. Its cause, the sound and how it spreads with enthusiasm. This year my fellow laughter-filled friend Mary Allmon and I will begin to record laughter samples and share current knowledge about laughter. There will be a spot online to share those samples with you. If you find laughter, please record it and send it my way. More collaboration opportunities on this to come.

Welcome to 2010. Where will you begin?

Welcome to the Junto.

Conversations change based on the frequency of face-to-face visits.

I have found the conversations with people I see everyday are full of details -- how was your weekend, what'd you find at the grocery store, where did you walk your dog, who are you seeing tonight. I often missed the overarching themes in their lives because we tended to day-to-day topics. Conversations around big questions (life goals, life trends, life emotions) happen with less frequency because we assume we know the answers.

While conversations with people I see more infrequently carry a different tune. They're based around overarching themes -- what's going on in your world, where are you going next in life, how do you feel about where you are. And they focus less on the stuff of the everyday.

From that, I created a project. Each month for one year a handful of my friends and family (you) told me about something that had happened that month. Something that I may have missed. Be it a conversation with an old friend, a random find in the bookstore, or something newly discovered.

There was one stipulation: I wanted a physical object. I didn't care what it was, be it a toothpick from a dinner with the President, or a handwritten letter or an engineering project recently built. I provided stamps and a mailing address and they (you) shared stories. I learned a lot and met sides of friends and family (you all) that I wouldn't have otherwise known. My hope is you learned a lot, in turn; it's rare that we have to think about our entire month at any one point.

I'm starting my project again. I'd love for you to be involved.

This time I'm changing it up a bit. It was a conversation with a coffee barrista that inspired the change. He explained how each week he and his friends researched one subject, meet up and present their findings. And knowledge was shared.

That's the focus of my project -- the sharing of knowledge. Consider it the physical salon. If you're up for it, each month you'd send on what you learned that month. These stories and ideas can be shared in any form. It could be anything -- a book that taught you the ways of the world, a CD of music that inspired you, a letter about something you learned about you, a photo of the place where a provocative conversation occurred -- as long as it's somehow physical.

On my part, I will send you stamps** and envelopes in a nice little package. Each month, I'll send to you what I learned. Of course, you have my promise that I won't disclose any secrets.

And come next year, there will be something to show.* I'm not sure what that something is but there it will be in some shape or form. Interesting things are bound to happen when a group of people share their views of the world over the span of time.


What do you say? Drop me a line: mightymytty (at) gmail.com



* For those of you who so wonderfully participated last year, I promise there will be something soon once the dust settles from my move out east. Thanks for being part. I loved seeing and learning more about what was going on in your world.

** I called this Stamps for Stories before. And realized when sending out the boxes of supplies that stamps, in addition to the other materials, became too expensive for my present budget. That said -- if your budget is the only thing preventing you from joining in on this, I'm happy to send stamps your way. Just let me know.

Welcome back, world.

That's my home at the top of many stairs. Thanks to Darren Cole for the photo.

It's now November. I keep hoping the world will slow her rotation down so I can appreciate and learn from all of what's happening around me. It's been an incredible, breathtaking year. I have lots to share.

I'm in Boston now; I've been building my home here for about a month. My bed was finally set up two days ago (for the first time in eight months!). It's starting to feel like home.

I'm getting paid to work with two grand and talented people, Nick Morgan and Nikki Smith-Morgan. Nick is one of America's top communication coaches and theorists; I gain a daily piece of communication knowledge working with him. Nikki is our resident graphic designer and molder of ideas; from whom I'm secretly taking notes on how to be an east coast sophisticate. And I come armed with my book knowledge ready to share and connect the world with ideas and their creators.

I have many projects in the works! All of which will be shared in good time. For now, I'll start with project one.

Las Ramblas

[in Barcelona]

There's a street here called Las Ramblas. Everything and 

anything can be bought or sold on this street. The

sunlight brings artists selling their wares -- caricatures,

paintings, inked paper, jewelry -- and vendors selling

hamsters, live chickens, fish, rabbits, flowers,

newspapers, souvenirs, what have you.

Lining the sides of Las Ramblas are the famous

street performers, dressed in Broadway-like

costumes. A man wearing white from head to

toe, perched upon a toilet, earns his keep with his

blatant toilet humor. Five feet away is a woman

dressed as Medusa, enchanting children as they

pass. And a clown meanders by, looking for an

audience. Musicians play down the street;

tourists and travelers wander about.

The sun leaves and the day's sellers close up.

A new group, selling different wares, makes

Las Ramblas their home.

Indian men walk around selling cerveza. 

Five euros for one six-pack. It's like selling

Pabst Blue Ribbon, taken from the fridge, 

on Milwaukee's Water Street. Some offer 

more. Hashish. Coke, they whisper to

passerbys. 

African women walk about selling 

themselves. 10 euros, minimum. All

determined by beauty. 

Las Ramblas becomes a world where

work visas don't exist. And all the 

immigrants come to earn their keep

in the ways taught by those before them.

We waited. We waited.

From Nice, we* debated: Barcelona or Paris. 

* we = Tammy, Tony and I

Barcelona won based on price, which meant an overnight bus trip from Nice to Barcelona, estimated to be a 10 hour journey.

The bus was due to depart Nice at 11.45pm and arrive in Barcelona at 10am. Our last night in Nice, we wandered to  the bus terminal, only to find all the lights off, no bus drivers in sight and a group of people line up. Waiting. Waiting.

11:45 came and went.

12:30 rolled around.

I sought out a Canadian with a French phone to dial the emergency number. He was the oddest duck. Like some combination of Pee Wee Herman with the eyebrows of Freida. My inquiry for the phone call was taken as a friendly introduction and he persisted in talking to me -- rather, standing by me and watching me intently. I tried my best to hold a conversation, while trying to motion to Tammy and Tony to interrupt.

No luck.

Nearly 2am, the bus rolled in. Two hours late. Everyone boards. It is packed to the brim. Half the passengers are under the age of 30, the other half are over 70.

We settled in. Tony, tried to fit his six-foot-something frame into Greyhound-size seats. And Tammy fiddling with the seat adjustments. We quickly learned the only toilet on board is out of order. All the while, the woman to my left muttered profanties and other things in Italian, while her cell phone alarm blared through the silence every half hour.

Hours later and bathroom break number one came. 

We're maybe two hours from the border.

Checkpoint one. The French border patrol stopped us. An official entered the bus. Passports were pulled out; 

some are collected. Questions directed at certain people. Three people were pulled off the bus. Everyone 

waited in vain. All we see is the border control station 

and a McDonald's bathroom calling to us, maybe 200 meters away.

We waited. Bus after bus drove by. None are pulled 

over. We waited.

An hour passed. The three detained returned. The bus 

started up. Each passenger, in their 

respective languages, expressed a sigh of relief and we 

inched forward towards Spain. We made it 100 meters.

This time, the Spanish guards pulled us over. Three more are pulled off the bus.

We all stared at the McDonald's and wished they release us. People were restless, now cursing in their

respective languages, and stirring in their seats.

And we waited. We watched the bus drivers chain smoke and yell about the ways of the world. We waited.

What seems like hours later, really only 40 minutes 

or so, one detainee returned. The other two remained 

behind while the bus started up.

We were off. Back on the road to Barcelona.

[typed on a keyboard that is missing the letter "o", a necessary vowel.]

The Hamptons of Europe.

From Cinque Terre, we headed to Nice (passing through Genova, the birthplace of Christopher Columbus). Nice is what I imagine the Hamptons to be like....full of ts of wealthy people gathered on the water and pricey. There´s a walkway on the water called the English walkway. 100 years ago, the walkway was rebuilt and covered in black marble at the request of the wealthy English visitors. The black marble kept their hems and shoes from the dirt and grim of unpaved roads.

The walkway has since been redone with concrete or asphalt. Casinos, restaurants and shopping line one side of the walkway and private beaches line the other.

We took a day trip from Nice to Monaco, the second smallest country in the world (the first being the Vatican) and Grace Kelly´s home for years. There the Grand Prix was being disassembled and I imagine the people were recovering from an influx of visitors from around the world. The Monte Carlo casino was made of all the luxuries you can imagine, including an admission price to get into the casino. We skipped the casino in lieu of the aquarium.

Built by or for a prince of Monaco who´s passion was sea life, the aquarium is home to numerous species around the world. There´s an eel that sleeps during the day and feeds at night. While he sleeps, shrimp enter his mouth and clean his teeth. And we met the seahorse, famous for its unique pregnancy; the man seahorse carries the baby, leaving the female free.