New Year, New Beginnings

I went on a "last hurrah" type of road trip with my parents, for old times' sake. We used to go on a bunch of road trips as a family when I was a kid, every chance we got. My parents are thinking about moving back to the old country next year, and they are getting older, so they wanted to go on one last trip. I went so that I could help my parents drive those long distances.

I enjoyed my parents' innocent banter with each other. They haven't changed. They were loving towards me knowing that I had gone through some significant changes in my life lately. I appreciated the simplicity of their love. They just want me to be happy. My mom and I always shared our love of singing. So during the road trip, we sang a lot of songs that we sang together when I was a kid. I was enveloped in their love and consideration completely, and cried quietly in the back seat as I realized how much abundance of love I have in my life, and how I won't have my parents forever. Kuro, my other dog that I'd been ignoring a lot behaved amazingly well. We had to stay at dog-friendly motels wherever we went (places like Super 8 Motel and Motel 6), but my parents were good sports about it. The fun part was seeing a friendship develop between Kuro and Dad.

My last meal in 2010 was the Wynn Buffet dinner. The "Wynn Experience" is the picture of human over-consumption and complete abandon in favor of  utter sumptuousness. Every where you looked, your eyes were nourished with opulence. It is an experience that is quite unique.

At the Buffet, the entrees were: foie-gras, grilled lobster, beef wellington, lamb chops, Alaskan king crab, every kind of side dish to match, and salads and deserts of equal fancy. It's all you can eat. The buffet regulars, after a while, develop a strategy to maximize their investments. The table next to us focused on just eating Alaskan King crabs. Four contented adults were sitting around a mound of crab shell carcasses after their feast. I had to take a picture.

I ate red meat during the road trip. It felt like there was no point in refusing red meat during a road trip around the Southwest.

1. We were burning a lot of fossil fuels to get around Utah / Arizona / Nevada and California. We went to: Zion National Park, Las Vegas, Grand Canyon, Flagstaff, Sedona, Kingman (the home of Route 66), and various points of interest in -between. And there were many others on road trips just like ours.

2. Everywhere we went, food and drinks were served in styrofoam. Much of the food was served buffet style (it's very popular in the southwest), an eating style which inevitably leads to an over-consumption of food.

3. Recycling bins were non-existent in those areas.

4. Everyone seemed to drive around in humongous trucks and SUVs.

Their towns were designed in such a way that they probably couldn't live without fossil fuels, especially in the snow.

5. It was hard not to eat at a fast-food chain.

6. There is a lot about Earth can still be seen, in many cases, in its natural, innocent state.
It didn't seem like pollution would ever be a problem.


In general: There were pockets of extreme poverty. There were forgotten landscapes and abandoned buildings all over the place. There was so much nature and humans were few and far between.

It just didn't seem like it would matter. 
 There were many things during the road trip that made my efforts towards simplicity seem silly. In my heart, I had to refer back to Michael Pollan's article, "Why Bother" which I referred to earlier in this blog. http://michaelpollan.com/articles-archive/why-bother/

While in Las Vegas, I lobbied for my parents to see La Reve, a Cirque-Du Soleil performance at the Wynn Hotel, which is the best acrobatic / synchronized swimming / fire / water show I'd ever seen in my life. It was my second time seeing it. Being very modest people, it was the first time my parents had seen any fancy show in Las Vegas. I think it blew their socks off. My mom gets overwhelmed sometimes when her senses are overstimulated. The performance proved to be overstimulating for her, but I think she enjoyed it nonetheless (but Dad and I took her back to the hotel right afterward so she wouldn't hurt herself walking down the street). There was a big party on the Strip and a smaller party Downtown. My parents and I opted to call it a night at 11pm on New Year's eve. We were tired.

I woke up on January 1st in a Motel 6 in Downtown Las Vegas. It's probably the cheesiest place on Earth. To me, the place seemed devoid of spirituality, though perhaps that was because I didn't know how to find it.

The first statement I heard in the New Year was in Dad's voice:
"It's nice to have a new start, and leave last year behind."
I thought it was the most auspicious statement that I could think of, to start off the New Year - regardless of where I woke up.

Since, the rain has stopped wherever I've been. It's been cold but gorgeous outside. Naturally, any darkness has been replaced by an appreciation of what is.

Being the New Year, it is a year of new beginnings. I picked up Perro's ashes from the crematorium upon my return to the Bay Area. I created a little shrine for him with flowers and fruits and pictures. I have a candle lit for him during my waking hours. I think about the love of my puppy every day, as well as my family's love. Whereas before my love for them was confused - now it seems simple. They only wish for my happiness, and I in turn wish for theirs. They are all angels in my life, and that will never change, even if death separates us. From Perro, I learned that death doesn't diminish love. Love only becomes ever-present, free of the restrictions of the physical plain.

And lastly, Happy New Year to you, my friend. Thanks for going on this journey with me.