US 1

2pm Traffic in Downtown Miami

2pm Traffic in Downtown Miami

VERO BEACH, FL — #VanDwelling #Surrender

March 20, 2015 1:19 PM

For the most part, I’ve been following US 1 northward toward my folks place in Melbourne. A lot of South Florida—particularly the “renovated” sections (read: homogenized) looks pretty much like every other place in South Florida.

US 1 is the exception though. From skyscrapers to clapboard houses, it probably has the most character of any South Florida road.

Lots of traffic though. Too much for my taste. When stuck in traffic, it’s easy for frustration to grab ahold, so I try to keep my attention on the Present Moment and use my eyes like the lens of a camera—taking mental photos while the horns blare and tempers rise.

Timmerman

Different Colors. Same Function.

Different Colors. Same Function.

BOYNTON BEACH, FL — #Encounters #LivingIt #Surrender

March 19, 2015 6:40 PM

I dropped in at a business complex where I thought Timmerman, a friend since childhood, was working, only to find he was no longer employed there. I dropped in instead of calling because, let’s face it, the unexpected is much more exciting—much more memorable.

Jim—a programmer who had worked there at the same tedious job for at least 15 years—said, “Timmerman quit, I don’t know, maybe a few months ago?”

When I finally caught up with Timmerman for lunch, it turned out he had quit three years ago (not “a few months”).

Monotony kills you in many ways, but the worst is that it steals time. It steals your very life.

Neil Young said it best:

It’s better to burn out than to fade away.

Since we hadn’t gotten together for over ten years, much had changed in both our lives. Timmerman is now a devote Christian, though he adamantly rejects the concept of “being religious.” He explained that religions are all about rules and rules push us away from God, not bring us closer to Him.

When I explained my theory of deep beliefshow evidence is required to alleviate the doubting subconscious—he explained that he too found God via the evidence route (study of comparative religions, deep analysis of the Bible, back and forth dialog with Christian experts, …).

He also told me that, as he surrendered more to God, his life got much easier, almost magically so. This, of course, supports something I’ve been saying for years:

The less there is of you, the more there is of Her.

After all these years, it was great to see Timmerman again and I was surprised—even grateful—at how much we were in agreement on our beliefs. Who would have thought? A devote Christian and a nondual Mystic agreeing on practically everything.

Let’s face it, the unexpected is much more exciting—much more memorable.

RIP Spring: 4.5 Billion B.C. — 2015 A.D.

The Harbor

The Harbor

FLORIDA CITY, FL — #VanDwelling

March 18, 2015 5:05 PM

In Florida, the Spring season apparently died a few days ago. The jury is still out on whether it died due to global warming, sun spots, cows farting or Republicans, but Florida now only has three official seasons: Winter, Summer and Please-God-When-Will-Winter-Get-Here. Rest in peace Spring, we’ll miss you.

With temperatures hitting the mid 90’s inside my van, I’ve decided to ditch the stupid circumnavigation-of-Florida plan for a far more sensible option: Get the hell out of here ASAP.

One of the primary advantages to being a drifter is you don’t have to put up with… well, with pretty much anything. Pulling up stakes takes nothing more than jumping in the driver’s seat and turning the key.

The Transparent Fool

An Empty Chair In A Room Without Walls

An Empty Chair In A Room Without Walls

KEY WEST, FL — #VanDwelling #Journaling #Emptiness #BATGAP

March 17, 2015 8:09 PM

I rolled over and watched the sunrise out my window as a fishing boat left the channel and headed out onto the calm, open sea. The air was still and moist and a few tourists wandered by my rig, unaware they were being observed through the dark limo-tinted glass that serves as my permanent privacy shades.

On impulse, I checked the battery monitor and was surprised to see my battery bank was far lower than I expected—62%—and my mind rattled off some possibilities: Has it been overcast lately? Have I been parked too much in the shade? Is one solar panel not working? Does running the fan all night cost too many amps? Ultimately, I blamed the battery drain on my near empty refrigerator running too much: too hot, too humid and too much empty space in there. I couldn’t do anything about the weather, but the empty space problem was solved by filling it with much denser-than-air ice and cold beer.

By late afternoon, I found myself in Key West on St. Patrick’s Day, but, not feeling up to the drunken crowed experience that would be Duval Street, I opted to park along the water and watch the sunset in relative peace and quiet (as quiet as you can get parked next to A1A).

Irene from BATGP contacted me today and it looks like a May interview is on. I spent an hour going through the prior interviewees on the site, looking to see if any kept a personal blog, but couldn’t find a one. Their “blogs” are really just articles—extensions of their teachings—but I didn’t find a single online diary.

Looking over their sites, it’s a bit intimidating. They all glow so brightly and seem so serene and sure of themselves. Don’t they experience doubts? Don’t they ever fail? Don’t they get confused, or slip, or contract into their Mortal shells? In comparison, I’m just some fool who struggles to surrender to the Divine.

As I sit here typing this, the sun has set and night has descended and, like this morning, the air is still and the sea is calm. Though not cool, the temperature is pleasant enough and, ironically, the cars that roar by the driver’s side window generate a nice cross breeze. I smile in gratitude at this unexpected gift as I open and expand and feel One with everything… while Everything arises inside of me.

At Death’s Door

Looking Toward Eternity

Looking Toward Eternity

UPPER MATECUMBE KEY, FL#VanDwelling #Soul #Technique

March 16, 2015 10:30 PM

The cop reached for his gun and shouted, “Take your hands out of your pockets!” and I smiled—not because I was trying to ease his fears, but because I felt absolutely no fear myself. A simple movement of my hand up or down would determine if my body would be wracked with high velocity 9mm bullets or not.

“What are you doing here!” he shouted.

“Reading my email,” I replied, still smiling and holding up my phone. What a wonderful experience!

He seemed to relax and explained I couldn’t sleep here, that it was OK to fish all night long, but just no sleeping—no camping. I replied I was just catching up on computer stuff while enjoying this nice cool breeze blowing through my rig. It was the truth too, I had my camping spot already picked out and—unlike this spot—it was well away from the noisy highway.

He nodded, stared at me a moment, then drove off.

One of the things Michelle and I have been discussing lately is how important it is for your beliefs to be deep—that when you deeply believe something (ie: The Eternal quality and how you-as-consciousness detach from the body at physical death), then these deep beliefs act as a foundation for your spiritual identity. We have been discussing that when your beliefs are deep enough, they will automatically affect your thoughts, emotions, and reactions.

Ergo, the involuntary smile and feeling of peace as Death Himself (and a frightened police officer) threatened this body’s existence.

All the evidence suggests that the Soul is real. No evidence supports the theory that we blink out. All it takes is a little reading and discernment for the shift from Mortal to Soul to occur.

Did I Mention It’s Hot?

Key Largo Paddle Boarders

Key Largo Paddle Boarders

JOHN PENNEKAMP SP, KEY LARGO, FL — #VanDwelling #Surrender #BATGAP

March 16, 2015 11:11 AM

After spending some time with my brother, his kids and various friends of the family, I bid my farewells, hopped in the van and headed south.

It’s already hot in South Florida, and I spent the night camped at a casino on the edge of the Everglades, the fan blasting on high the entire night.

I stopped in Florida City for breakfast and took a seat by the window just as a man stepped out of one of the new Dodge ProMaster vans. A number of full-time nomads I know have considered this van as their next home, so I asked the driver how he liked it.

“Don’t get one, pal. They suck.”

His was a year newer than mine, but he apparently has had nothing but trouble—trouble compounded by a limited number of dealers who can work on them, and none of which he was happy with. We swapped stories for awhile, and, as I left, he commented that, on hearing how much I liked mine, he might trade his in for a Nissan soon.

As I left, I contemplated my next stop. With a Skype evaluation appointment scheduled for noon with Jerry, the technical guy at Buddha at the Gas Pump, I wasn’t sure if I should risk heading down to the Keys and not finding a good signal. Since I don’t like to try—to fight circumstances—I asked myself, if I didn’t have this appointment, what would I do? So I drove to the Keys, taking the longer Card Sound route.

I found a decent 4G signal in a park where I used to spend time in as a teen. It was too early for the video chat, so I strolled about to see what had changed over the years, took some photos and now await a call that will determine if a BATGP interview lies in my destiny.

2:02 PM

The Skype test seemed to go well, and Jerry said he’d pass along the results, so I closed the laptop and went for a swim. Did I mention it’s getting hot down here already?

A little while later, the sun shining down brutally, I picked up a touristy “Key Largo” baseball cap and dropped into Mrs. Mac’s for their famous taco salad platter (Fritos smothered in chili) and a cold, local IPA.

In Key Largo—within a mile of each other—there are two Mrs. Mac’s. When I lived there, there was only one, and this is the one I dined at. It’s a tiny place, and in order to work there (or to use their restroom for that matter), you pretty much have to be a contortionist, so as I ate, I grinned while watching the one waitress bend to get ice while another reached over her to get tea while another tried to squeeze behind them with a tray filled with fish and chips and burgers and drinks.

My server told me he graduated Coral Shores in ’13 and I smiled and said I graduated there in ’79 and asked him which Mrs. Mac’s he would visit in 30 or 40 years on his reminiscent tour of the Keys and he told me both, as he had worked at both and loved them equally. I explained how much more crowded the Keys had become since I lived there years ago and wondered aloud how things would appear to him when he did his own personal tour.

He looked a little sad at that thought.

Nothing is permanent. Everything changes. Life itself is flux—a dynamic flowing Living Unified Thing. It’s futile to fight it, to struggle to control it, to try to fit it into a neat little box.

Life is much bigger than we can possibly grasp, so it seems to me it’s best just to surrender and flow and enjoy it.

I drove off, trying to remember if there was any public shade to be found on this long thin island in the Gulf, a place a weary drifter could take a nap in peace and comfort (did I mention it is hot down here?).

The Crow And The Muskrat

The Sun Sets over the Everglades

The Sun Sets over the Everglades

MARKHAM PARK, FL — #VanDwelling

March 14, 2015 10:26 AM

Feeling a bit like Forest Gump alone on his shrimp boat thinking of Jenny, I stood in the doorway and watched the sun set over the Everglades. The first few nights on the road are always the most difficult, for in the darkness the mind tends to focus not on the present, but on either the past or the future—illusionary places where solitude can quickly turn to loneliness. With experience and a little time, this dark melancholy soon passes as the effects of social cold-turkey diminish.

In the morning—a fresh cup of coffee in hand and a brand new day—I sat in the doorway of the van and listened to the sweet song of the redwings in the cattails. A crow landed a few feet away, eyed me a moment, then set about poking through the algae at the water’s edge. Just then, a muskrat rushed out, grabbed a piece of discarded orange rind, and dove back into the high grass like an infantry man taking cover. In contrast to this skittish attitude, the crow, knowing that safety was but a few wing flaps away, showed no fear and ignored me completely.

We can live fearlessly as a Soul, or in constant anxiety as a Mortal. The attitudes of the crow and muskrat seemed a perfect analogy.

After coffee, I bathed and stowed my gear and headed south. Upon arriving in Weston, I sought a place to write this post, but both the Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts I came across had lines out the door. Too many people in too small a place. So different from where I was only an hour ago.

I’ll drop by my brother’s after posting this, and see about testing Skype’s performance over my 4G modem. If it goes well, I’ll contact Irene to see if a spot is still open. An added bonus to getting this to work is that video calls, though more data-expensive, would make for better coaching sessions, a service (after I’m done with the book) I’ll probably offer.

Back On The Road

Peace and Joy in Pahokee

Peace and Joy in Pahokee

The Everglades, FL — #VanDwelling #Surrender #BATGAP

March 13, 2015 4:49 PM

I made camp next to a quiet canal on the edge of the Everglades, a camp I had found perusing Google Maps. The wind, which had buffeted the rig all day, now provided a welcome breeze which cooled the van and rid it of the three flies I had picked up somewhere along the way—maybe in Pahokee, or Taylor Creek, or that miserable intersection at Yeehaw Junction.

Flowing non-attachment. This is how I choose to live life. Sometimes I slip, naturally, but mostly I just roll with it.

Anyone can say, “Surrender to what is,” but if you aren’t willing to live it, then you’re just fooling yourself—and far more importantly, your fooling others.

Below is the full email exchange with Irene of Buddha at the Gas Pump (email addresses and full names redacted):


Contact Form Submitted

Name:  Irene

Website: www.batgap.com

Comment: Would you like to set up an interview in May? Dates open as of now are May 16 or 23


Hi Irene,

I’d be happy to do an interview. Either date is fine.

Please note though, that I’m a full-time nomad. I live in a van and drift around the country rather aimlessly. I never know where I’ll be next week. I get online via Verizon’s 4G network on a MiFi device, but have never done a video chat using it. I’ll try to test it out with a friend, but do you allow phone-in interviews also? I do a lot of photography too (ie: http://waynewirs.com/?gallery=my-favorite-photos-from-2014 ), so you could do a slide show of my images if the video doesn’t work. 🙂

Wayne (Wirs)
http://waynewirs.com
http://mysticsjournal.com


Hi Wayne

It sounds like the technical set up would be very difficult and we do video only over Skype. So unless you could find a location where you could use someone’s wired internet connection than I don’t think it will work.

Thanks for considering it!

Irene
Buddha at the Gas Pump
http://batgap.com


Hi Irene,

I haven’t had the chance to test Skype over 4G, but it sounds like you’re opting out. After what some of my readers were saying about the idea ( http://mysticsjournal.com/buddha-at-the-gas-pump/#comments ) I was starting to get a little psyched! (I’m all about transparency, so much so that I keep an online personal journal).

Just so you know, besides all my other odd quirks (About Me), I believe I am the only person who was keeping a personal, online blog before, during, and after his awakening. The whole process can be stepped through here – http://waynewirs.com/category/transition/?order=ASC – and all started when I tried to out-meditate a frog in a brook on Mt. Hood in Oregon.

Still, if the interview sounds like more trouble than it’s worth, don’t sweat it. I’m all about flowing with Life, not manipulating it, so I’m good either way.

Be well,

Wayne (Wirs)
http://waynewirs.com
http://mysticsjournal.com

Buddha at the Gas Pump?

My Former Cavernous Home

My Former Cavernous Home

MELBOURNE, FL — #Writing #MiracleLog #BATGAP

March 12, 2015 3:46 PM

I received a very short email yesterday:

Website: www.batgap.com
Would you like to set up an interview in May? Dates open as of now are May 16 or 23

I wonder how they found me? I’ve never contacted them before.

I’m a little conflicted about this. On the one hand, Buddha at the Gas Pump is pretty big in the nondual world.

On the other, I never listen to nondual teacher interviews since I find them pretty boring (You’re everything. You’re nothing. You’re everything. You’re nothing…).

Add to that, I’ve never done a video call over the MiFi device (the 4g hotspot I use to get online) so I don’t know if I can even do a video interview. I guess if it’s too slow for video, I could call in.

On another note, sort of, I’ve been thinking a lot about that teaching versus sharing perspective. Marc Gilson of Mind Chatter Magazine once said, “[Wayne] is not a guru or a teacher. He is an explorer, a field man more than an academic.” That was back in the 2005. Seems my nature hasn’t changed that much, so the more I think about it, the more the sharing attitude feels right.

Which means I’ll need to re-do the tone of the book-in-progress.

Posterity

Ducks Askew

Ducks Askew

MELBOURNE, FL — #Journaling #Writing

March 11, 2015 12:50 PM

In the morning, the windshields of the cars are coated with dew, the cool glass condensing the thick moisture straight out of the heavy air. With the humidity so high, the mornings are often more uncomfortable than the afternoons as the water vapor rises from the ground, soaking your clothes… sort of like rain in reverse.

As I put on my shark’s tooth necklace, given to me by my mother, I thought of my father’s much larger necklace and thought of how he should give it to my older brother Jeff. Jeff then, as his time neared, could pass it onto his son, Michael. A legacy through the generations.

Following this train of thought, I wondered if I’m subconsciously writing the Mystical Oneness book as some form of posterity—as a way to be remembered after I’m gone.

Why am I writing it? For money? For posterity? For hope?

Dave told me the other day that I shouldn’t think of holding talks as teaching, but as sharing. That’s an excellent perspective: To think of this blog and the book as sharing.

Why sharing? Because sharing is intimate and transparent and personal. Like relating. As in relationship.

I’m writing the book (and this blog) because I want others to experience the relationship I have—the relationship all Mystic’s have—the intimate commingling with the Divine.

The book’s not for posterity. It’s for love.