portraiture

“I grew up in a small rural community in Philadelphia, we were poor, and every year when the state fair was running, my mom entered pies in the baking competitions. That way we could afford to go to the fair because they waived the entry fee for anyone who enters events. We could not afford admission, so my mom baked. Who would have thought she would be baking award-winning pies?

I was a tinkerer as a kid, and my mom was way supportive of me. If I wanted to make a robot, she would give me the pots and pans, knowing that they would never be able to be used again after I had finished with them. But she thought it was more important to stimulate my imagination than to hold on to her kitchen ware.

I followed my imagination and went to a special effects make up school; my dream was to go into the movie industry. I thought the scary movie stuff was pretty cool.

In 1997 I moved to Los Angeles to start my career, it was not what I dreamed it would be.”

A brief history of pie maker Matty, who in honoring the baking traditions of his family tree, opened the Pie Hole in May 2011.

My mom always wanted to open a pie shop. I remember when I was a kid. My dad was dreaming about opening a sporting goods store. My mom’s response, great idea! We can sell pies!

Then there was the bike shop I considered starting after realizing that panting walls in the special effects houses was not exactly what I was intending on doing. And again, mom was into it. Great idea! We can sell pies!”

So in 2010, when Matty’s mom started thinking pie shop in what I am calling the “Pie Summit,” He lobbied, Great idea! We can sell pies?!”

And as an ambassador for reaching the masses with the flavor of buttery crust and home-grown ambiance, he had but one condition, “We have to open it in Los Angeles, there will be more interest here than in rural Philly, where there is a pie house or diner in every town.”

To Matty’s surprise, mom agreed, an agreement was settled and with the support of long time friend, now business partner Sean, the quest to create pie nirvana began.

Until now, I had no Idea the Pie Hole existed. There is no advertising, no branded labels at the grocery store, and heck! it is hidden in an isolated art district of downtown LA.

So credit to where credit is due. I sit here, with family and friends, eating our last forks of Chicken Pot comfort, in follow-up to a referral from 365 friend of day 155. Brook – “Somewhere Magical…Hopefully It Will Involve Faries.”

I’m glad I listened to her advice. The place is flexing with movement, yet there is no feeling of rush for service, feels more like being in mom’s warm kitchen on a cold winter day (although the Southern California April is no match for my reference).

Protein consumed, we move on to our dessert pies, and through the pleasure of dancing taste buds, Matty and I sit in having a living room style after dinner chat.

Yet as charming as the Pie Hole is, to review it is not the reason I am here. I am here because Brook has told me that Matty has a great perspective on life.

“What is important to me is being able to connect with people,” Matty’s core reason for the Pie Hole.

“Everyone say’s to follow your heart, and do what you want to do, and I am now just starting to understand that idea.

I was not happy at all following the movie career, but now I know why I am in Los Angeles, it has always been to open this store. I could not see it when I moved here, and now it is as clear as day.”

“So what advice do you have for all of us?” I request.

Without pause, “Step back and take a deep breath before you make any decisions. Everything happens for a reason…  And Rushing never seems to help any situation.”

As we are talking, countless friends (I purposefully do not call them customers) stop to tip their hats to Matty…

“Love the new Double Crust Apple (Grandma’s recipe)!”

“I’ve got an idea for your tee-shirts”

“This is my daughter I’ve been telling you about.”

I find myself in the center of conversation that is as random as living room talk. The expressions of appreciation are endless, and in family style, everyone politely interrupt our interview time.

Matty is the real deal, and the way he knows his guests and how they know him only proves of his sincerity. Nothing feels like an interruption, it’s more like becoming part of an extended family. I love this joint.

“As a society, we need to look to our past more” Matty exposes as we resume our quite time.

His motives are heart-felt, “We all need to get in touch with our roots and honestly lean on them to make our decisions for the future.

“So I serve pie… it is one of the oldest foods, and in America it brings back memories.

I want everyone who comes in these doors to be happy, to have a moment of the past.”

For Matty, it is not about money, it’s about moment. He even works a day job as a machinist and has trusted the daily operations to loyal friends who share in his vision of community.

“In a way I am serving a piece of my family, and in that, the spirit of togetherness. That is why I do what I do.”

Thanks Matty! you have not only feed my appetite, you havfeeds my day.

I’m in the eye of a humanity storm, partially pushed by the requests of my friends to visit where I find myself this afternoon, and more realistically as a result of a business meeting that I just concluded at an office directly across from Mann’s Chinese Theatre.

That’s correct… I’m on Hollywood boulevard, lane of sidewalk stars and walls of world travelers. It’s a surreal place, definitely a land fluctuating with light and darkness. Families and singles from all over the world mingle with local flavor, some of which in inviting and some that is foreboding.

I confess, I usually avoid this boulevard of static stars and lost dreams. Its rhythm is unsettling and its pulse can be dizzying. Yet, to pass on journaling an experience would be a disservice to my claim of everyone is of worth. Even the dark citizens of a Hollywood disillusioned.

“Why do I start so dark?” you ask.

I have to; it is the only way to set the stage for the sheer contrast of the ever-shifting residents of this relic of a Hollywood past.

Settling at a chair on the corner of Orange and Hollywood, I pause to absorb the pace. The history is rich, on the South West corner, the Hollywood Roosevelt, home of the first academy awards and the haunting place of the ghost of Marilyn Monroe.

To the North and just slightly East of the Roosevelt is Mann’s (Historically Grumman’s) Chinese Theatre, the concrete shrine of imbedded body print since the inception of stardom.

These two alone stand as an iconic evidence of an era gone by. And although enduring the test of time, there exterior has become in a way, polluted. Not by the travelers desiring to get a glimpse of the past glamour, but by the onslaught of commercialism and vice; vice that hits at the very core of the spirit of the street.

And as I sit, observing the happenings I am stricken uncomfortable in what I partake. Know that as I write this, my heart is filled with compassion and void of judgment, yet it would be dishonest of me to hold back my feelings; feelings that I’m reframing into an outlook of acceptance and hope for those who are trapped (for whatever reason) in the depths of a dark energy that is palpable.

Take for example the superhero look-alike I approach with the 365 questions. To respect their boundaries, I will refrain from identifying them. Humble at first, and with a listening ear my superhero stranger, absorbs the 365 message.

“That’s cool,” they reply, “But you really! don’t wan to publish what I have to say. It’s way too dark!”

“Try me?” I ask… furthering, “Everyone is of value and deserves to be heard, and we all have something to say.”

Every Mother F—– in the world needs to be killed… Starting with all the Mother F—— in Los Angeles, Tell the world that, don’t say I said that, it would be bad for business.”

“Richard! why did you throw that at us? I have kids that love the characters on The Boulevard. “

Like I said, I had to. It is a prime example of the result of a dehumanized population. I am completely speculating, but somehow life has dealt a rough hand to my costumed friend, and my heart aches from hearing such a painful and angry response.

What is surreal is the contrast of the street, the shoulder-to-shoulder contact that I am experiencing with not only my hardened masked friends, but also the smiling faces of children from foreign lands. The crowd is deafening.

All around is activity; hands placed in George Clooney’s concrete shrine, the smile of a thin Tom Cruise, and the pamphlets of dinners done cheap. I must escape this wonderland of noise and visual attack!

Past the roof chopped busses of tourism I groggily sway, focusing on the happy faces of tourists not yet demystified. I stumble to Hollywood and Highland, where upon the flashing approval of the green LED walker, I cross the street to the lesser crowds of the Southern side of this starred river of traffic. Here the sidewalks are much calmer and the volume of solicitation diminished.

My senses become overloaded and with in the moment decision, “To seek the peaceful.” It must exist, and time has proven to me that in all situations it can be found.

Back West I slowly stride, and with the lowering of my ringing ears and overloaded brain, I begin to regain my composure in seeing mankind. Here and there another movie character passes by, and with a head nod I welcome them. Some reply, others don’t; it’ all good, at least I threw it.

The atmosphere is thick with diverse languages, German, Italian, Hebrew are but a few of the tongues flowing around my route. Cameras point in every direction, even down as I cross paths with a touring teen as she clicks a downward snapshot of a paved star… Tom Cruise, your now immortalized in the photo album of a fans memory.

Past Orange I progress, and as the crowd thins yet again, I am drawn to a quite man who is sitting un-noticeably painting, palm tree behind him and poised on a small folding chair.

Stopping, I observe his work, “What are you painting?” I inquire.

With pleasant and non-assuming pause this stranger replies, “Hollywood boulevard. Someone else just asked, but they said they could not see it, do you?” He shifts his art to my view for my approval.

The work is in progress and rough, but I can see the foundation of the street emerging. “Yea… I see it, it’s rough and I know it is the base for where you are going.”

My stranger is becoming my friend, “Exactly!” He smilingly responds. And with his smile… peace has found me.

“Where are you from?” I interact.

“Philadelphia.

I teach engineering at Penn State and am here for two weeks working with the Huntington Library in examining their newly acquired collection of 19^th century engineering documents. It kind of aligns with a project I am working on.

I paint for relaxation, and as soon as that bus blocking my view leaves I finish this painting.” He again smiles.

“I’m Richard, nice to meet you, may I invite you to be part of a Blog project I’m working on (I go on to explain 365)?”

“I see no harm in that, I’m Tom, good to meet you Richard.”

Tom is a very interesting man with an amazing outlook on life and society.

“The secret to all is the ability to just listen and look. And I’m just beginning to learn how to look,” he launches.

In a way Tom speaks in parables:

“The people who do pay attention are usually the people to talk to or listen to.”

“Shut off the part of you that says do this or do that, just allow yourself to pay attention.”

Pay attention hits me with resonance, and at the exact incidence of this Tom parable, I accept a friendly smile from a chauffeur who has been sharing space with us a he patiently waits for his fare.

“I’m Richard, what’s your name?” I inquire of this unknown friend of united geography.

“You look like royalty,” I visualize in noticing the grace of countenance from my car driving acquaintance of the moment.

His guarded shoulders loosen, “I’m George, I migrated here from Armenia many years ago. I you are right… I come from a wealthy family. We had to leave because of political reasons.”

He begins to tell Tom and I of his upbringing, his trails and the wisdoms he has learned about society in meeting many different types of people while working as a chauffeur.

“You can tell a lot about a person at first sight, I always know what kind of person is entering my car from the way they say hello, and there are a lot of good people out there.” George shares.

This is crazy good, this whole pass it on thing is happening right before my eyes, even when George’s fare arrives I witness him showing them the 365 card, that only minutes ago, I presented to him.

On this funny little square, on this edgy avenue, the 365 message goes forward in affecting Tom, George, his five fares and myself. Eight individual lives influenced, and hopefully for a better outlook on humanity.

In the eye of this storm of Hollywood distraction, we have found a fountain of unity; a fountain that Tom intuitively has promoted with his very mention of “Paying Attention.”

Even his pointing it out, prompted me to reach out to George. And following this direction, led us all to a greater conversation. How spectacular is that!

The bus pulls away as George and his fare’s drive of, and with unobstructed horizon, it is time to let Tom complete his artwork.

I ask my final questions of the future.

Tom answers in two parts.

For the short-term:
“Increased isolation and alienation.”

For the long-term:
“Some day we will come to our senses… maybe before the total destruction of the planet… maybe not…. and maybe that makes me an optimist; I’m OK with that.”

Up Sherman Way I hike, another from my doorstep to friend day. And after my running out of auto fuel yesterday, it is a fresh relief to be safe commuting upon water-powered footsteps.

I’ve heard many times, and from many people, that Los Angeles is an isolated city. Not like New York, London, Tokyo or Shanghai where people on the streets are more engaged and aware of each other; and having spent time in all four cities, a premise that I can definitely understand.

For many years I have bought into this theory, sadly bagging on my own place of living. It’s strange how we can always see the grass greener on the other side of the pond. And even though we may be standing on fertile soil, at times, we choose to look at the neighbor’s garden rather than to look at the soil beneath our very own feet.

May I be brash in proposing a concept, no matter where the grass is… it is still grass. With this premise, we are left with two choices, 1) we can nurture it and help it to grow; or, 2) we can look upon the grass on the hill, wishing our grass would green as it, and in peering away form our own turf, we passively let it die.

Sure I can make a list a meter long of the reasons why my city is less than others. I can even group the culture as a whole or dream of greener pastures. But what positive impact is that to the land, that for whatever reason, is where I find myself inhabiting.

Several entries ago I researched the population of the San Fernando Valley: 1.7 million people, all individuals, all with their own stories, and all with their uniquely personal set of dreams, wishes, and situations.

I’ve written of my findings that even though the expanse of the globes populous is vast, that from the very act of looking at the faces of the society around us, the wide streets may narrow and the faces become clearer. Bottom line, in a wonderful way I am creating my own community and it is accepting me into its arms.

So I walk today, to the East up Sherman Way, no schedule, no pre-planned agenda and more importantly, no “this city is closed off” attitude. I have to clarify one point; I promise that I am not looking at the world with rose-colored glasses, just working on experimenting with an adjusted perspective.

I admit the planet has some terrible things going within its orbit; atrocities that test the very soul of mankind, at times dropping us in bent knees of tears and anger. Even this morning, during my struggle to see the good in the world, I read of several horrible murders, some of which were committed in the name of righteousness, or motivated by handed down hatred towards differing beliefs.

In admitting this, my intent is deliberate, to relieve all of us from the bondage of the pain associated with broken optimism and bolstering us into the reality of world events and wicked acts… disappointments that can snuff out the greatest of positive outlooks.

Yet in the paths of the oncoming of great darkness, we at times find ourselves in the companionship of fellows. And it is in these moments that we can assume there is hope for what is in store for us. Like I said, it’s all grass.

So here I am, strolling on the concrete sidewalks of grey yard that zoom under accepting the strides of my sneakers, chin up, eyes open to my community and continuing my experiment of the acknowledging head nod.

As expected, many look away… “Don’t look at the hatted dude (me), he’s dark and un-trustable.” But here is the wonderment… Not all are repelled by my gesture in this the city of spread out isolation. Many accept my gesture… Some even verbalize a “Hello…,” “Good Day…” or other reciprocating acknowledgments.

My community is shrinking, and it is fascinating to look back at the evolution of my life in owning my own personal witness that humanity is in the eyes of the beholder.

It gets better as I begin to realize that many of whom I am greeting are not first time passing’s, some are familiar, and as I recognize them, they too recognize me. Five of them are people who even know of my blog or have been featured.

I am sincere in saying that I have zero idea of where 365 is taking us… Still don’t, but one thing is becoming clearer and clearer every day, community is an outward manifestation from an inward desire. And, at the anniversary of hitting my 900th stranger talked to mark, I am learning that no matter who, for most, some form of community is a real dream for everyone.

A point that is never-ending in slamming me in the face, every time I wander my neck of the woods or journey beyond its borders.

Now, before I introduce you to today’s friend, I have to clarify that I’d be a hypocrite to say I know all cultures. That would be an incredible pompous and self-promotion claim. But I’m no babe in the woods either. My career has blessed me to have been able to travel to many continents, mingling within the cultures of Asia, Europe, Mexico, Canada and many parts of the United States.

The lesson learned is one of empathy in doing my best to blend in along side of these world citizens. Some have embraced me; others have scorned me, justifiably saying, “You have no idea of my life!”

So I walk on, face up, desiring to know the Streets of Angels this day. Good and bad, healthy and ill, happy and sad.

Spring is in the air this week, and with the bright sun burning my neck via its piercing rays, I seek a shelter.

One shady dwelling emerges, an antique store invitingly titled, “Old Friends.”

In a way, it reflects a truth having briefly met, its owner, Alan, a few weeks earlier during a brief antique browsing outing with my better half. Even then I asked him if he would be willing to contribute to 365, but he graciously declined, “I’m not certain what I would say, maybe another time.”

I lock his response into my mind as we departed his store that day. Strangely several days later, we again ran into Alan miles from his store, during a visit to a local hamburger haunt at 10:00pm. 1.7 million people in my area; the odds of a chance meeting are a little more than a coincidence. We again share hellos and I promise to visit him on a later day. We exchange nods and return to our lives.

Here I am, walking, neck on fire, head sweating into the brim of my fedora, “Now is the day,” my inner voice directs… I follow.

A simple, “How are you, may I interview you today?” I extend.

“You caught me on a bad day, I have a delivery I need to do…” Yet after a few minutes of friendly chat Alan opens in sharing a few thoughts and a little of his life.

Our time is very limited, about ten minutes or thereabouts, but the depths of what we discuss is empowering.

We talk of aging parents and of the issues of aiding them into the later years. “It’s hard, I am now getting my parents into an assisted living center.”

Having a healthy, but aging mum of my own, I empathize with Alan in sharing a few of my experiences. The worries, guilty feelings, and remorse for times changed. But in formally interviewing Alan, what I partake of is a man who is all about family and taking care of his responsibilities; something that I highly value and admire in a society where so many set the elderly aside.

“I worry about what is to come for us, my mom has some retirement, but with the state of the economy, I’m not so comfortable there will be anything for us when we are ready to retire.

“Times are tough, and most people are selfish, and it makes sense, we have to think of our families first,” Alan shares.

We discuss this point for some time and conclude in a philosophy, “’We need to do whatever it takes to secure safety, security and a future for our families, but in doing so the question is, ‘Do we do sacrifice our integrity to society?’”

I’ll leave it at that.

Alan is a good man, twenty years in building his business and a commitment to doing the right thing.

The sign on your door say, “We fix furniture.”

Alan, Perhaps today you have fixed more than that.

Thanks for the shade from the sun my old new friend.

Meditation is in the air. Something that becomes frighteningly real to me as I feel my vehicle puttering its last sips of octane from a bone dry and suffering fuel tank.

“No! It can’t be!” I break my Pacific Ocean ogling mind of its relaxed numbness during my end of day commute on Highway One.

Oh man! I’ve not run out of gas since my teens, plus my wife reminded me to fill up on my return from today’s shoot, “You have enough gas to get there, be sure to fill up near the studio before you come home, or you won’t make it back.”

You have to know a little about Highway One, locally referred to as Pacific Coast Highway (PCH). It’s a beautiful drive, beaches, eateries, high-end residences and wonderful weather, but very sparse of the now very much-needed petrol fillery (for us Yanks, gas stations).

My rubber tire chariot shutters, the traffic is jammed and as the beads of sweat begin to form above my upper lip, I decide shut off my mind in accepting my self-inflicted fate. “Thank you sir! May I have another!” echo’s in my subconscious as I prepare for an anticipated assault of “*!*%#!!!” from the many traffic bound car gladiators; all of whom most likely have years LA highway training in dealing with such an occurrence.

The only temporal comfort I have is the Automotive Club card in my wallet, they have fuel and will bring it to the rescue of my shame. But even with that, I will still have to feel the welts from whatever road blocking road rage is about to be unleashed upon me.

My stead is fighting nobly, and in compassion for its shuttering gasps for propellant, I hail upon the Octane Angels to carry us forward as one. As I mentioned, meditation is in the air.

Slowly the stream of traveling coastal nomads move onward, many noticing my lunging ride, as I pathetically scan the horizon for any sign of refueling salvation.

My spirit is almost broken as I raise my brow in sharing a moment of please forgive me to the motorist angrily squinting at me through my rear view mirror. The fight is almost over and as I reach a patting hand to the glove compartment in acknowledging the effort of my breathless mount, Sir Honda, a light befalls upon us, The Castle Chevron, our gateway to the living flow of mid grade (no one can afford the good stuff anymore).

We coast in on momentum only and with a slow halt, find ourselves kneeling before the silently sturdy judgments of pump five. The Octane Angeles have been good to us this day, and in tribute to their kindness, we honor them with an offering of momentary silence; peace has fallen upon us.

Thank you brave Sir Honda, your effort has been valiant, you shall be knighted with the crest of windshield clean.

I raise the staff of squeegee, and in the tradition of the ages, take part in the watery knighthood of my enduring metallic protector, “Arise Sir Honda and take your place before the filling hose of redemption, you have saved us.”

The ceremony is over, my heart is full, and my will is released from cares. “Travel forward and go in peace,” the Octane Angels silently whisper, and as they do, another wandering traveler of PCH arrives in the courtyard of Castle Chevron. Un-mounting his steed, he joins me in hailing offerings from a lesser judgmental pump four.

“Welcome weary traveler,” cruises my mind as we share a nodding smile of unity in quest. As we do so, an internal intuition exhorts, “Introduce yourself to the crested Sir Harley-Davidson, for he has wisdoms to pronounce.”

The trumpets sound, hailing from the Canyons of Topanga, and mounted upon Sir Harley, stranger now friend Terry speaks.

“People should insist on enjoying life. To step out of their own way and make room for another.” – Mr. Terry

Terry is full of life and carries an infectious spirit of peace. “This may sound a bit metaphysical, but I feel there is a reason I ran out of fuel and ended up here, and maybe it is because we are supposed to be speaking,” I present as I converse with Terry.

“I think so too,” he reacts, “I was just up the street at Self-Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine. It’s a very peaceful place, I go there often to relax in its quite gardens. And I also think that we are supposed to be talking.”

We agree to leave it at, “Sometimes things do happen for a reason.”

Terry advises, “People should insist on enjoying life.”

Insist on enjoying life, not simply enjoy life, but insist on enjoying it, Terry directs us.

Wow, one word, insist, has changed a partially passive statement, simply enjoy life, to a powerfully motivating call to action, insist on enjoying life.

A call to action he has been following since 1999 when he decided to step away from a career as a social worker to embark on a traveling excursion that would take him to nineteen countries, inclusive of a three-year term traveling Asia on his Harley.

“I’ve seen a lot of things and have experienced many cultures. Everybody should find a way to travel. Traveling is the only way to fully know each other in understanding and accepting cultural differences and learning to enjoy one another for who we are.” Terry reports.

Terry is a world explorer, and through his explorations, he has observed many ways of life. Observations that direct him to share a bold charge, one that at first may sound elitist, but once understood, is world bonding in scope.

Per Terry, “We all need to take care of our lands, especially here in the USA. We need to put more emphasis on our humanity and our society if we are to make our land better.”

In this, Terry is not necessarily talking of foreign policy, the economic situation, or of any religious right or wrong. What he is talking of is people loving people. Our land being the people… And that’s right… the people being each other.

He speaks of everybody interacting and respecting one another for their differences and of not judging anyone based on what is seen on the outside.

And in Terry’s statement of “We need to take care of the USA,” he is charging us to open our outlooks in building a stronger and more unified country, even families, neighborhoods and communities. The logic is sound.

“’Remember ten years ago, the ‘We Are The People’ thing. We need to need to keep that perspective,’” Terry reflects.

“So what are you doing now?” I inquire.

“Right now I’m going to my grandsons school performance, I’ve got a great family, we have a lot of fun together.”

And per career, “I’m a studio teacher.”

Never judge a book by its cover, my friends.

Terry is the rock of compassion.

The magazine stand guy, not wanting anything to do with me, painfully dismisses me; the man at the dry cleaners, although very friendly and wanting me to give him my hat, converses with me, yet in the end escapes meeting us with an, “I’m too shy”

No problem, and by rough counts, I’m fairly sure that since the beginning of 365, way back in September, I have approached over 900 people. Crazy how time flies, and all of the stories, even the rejections, have been part of the great adventure.

In that, I was asked today at a photo-shoot, “What is the most common answer, or response, you get?”

A very difficult question indeed, and to summarize the reactions of hundreds of people I have approached, photographed and interviewed is quite a daunting task. But I think about it, and the first thing that comes to mind is The Golden Rule – “Treat others as you yourself would want to be treated,” and “How are you going to make money off this?”

Both are at the opposite ends of the spectrum, but in contrasting these two commonalities, my intent is to suggest a diverse range of responses. Many have embraced our reach-out, while others have looked upon it with skeptical eyes.

The point being, and in typical Richard style, to pose a question for reflection, and after last nights interview of Jacklyn and Quinton (Relax, It’s Gonna Work Out), reflection is in the air.

That reflection, “Do we reach out with open arms, or do we close ourselves off the possible uniting experiences.”

Trust me, I’m not encouraging us to approach every stranger we see, or to ignore our common sense or intuition, I am merely asking us to consider the possibility of a united outlook in how we receive one another. That’s all.

Two rejections thus far, no big deal, one harsh and distant, the other fun and bonding, but in both I have experience an emotion with a neighbor in life. And in each I can lay my head down this evening, knowing that I at least tried to understand each situation.

Two distinctly different, “See ya later Richard!” brush offs, and who knows how many more to come. And putting my feelings to the side, my hope is that through sharing them that I can sprout a seed in all of us to look beyond our own comfort zones in projecting any positive energy we can towards our fellow humans.

Two definite good byes, and sobered by the suns dropping, plus a huge desire to recline my studio floor weary feet, I notice that to left of me, exiting work appears a smiling face, backed by a busy 7-eleven parking lot. I approach my prospected smile, very uncertain of what is in store.

I muster a simple, “Hello!” and do all that I can to remain smiling and open in silencing my mind in accepting whatever reply is to come. This is another courage building situation, one that has me preparing for rejection number three as I welcome the approaching sunset (after all, we’re standing in a strip mall parking lot and the sky is growing dark).

Nonetheless with the 365 fire burning in my heart, I politely go on to part two of my introduction.

“I’m a photographer working on a blog project, I started it 200 days ago in committing to approach strangers every day and asking them two questions… The questions are…” I begin a brief explanation.

Summary delivered I step in my strangers shoes to visualize myself… “Creepy captain outreach, what’s with the cheeks puffed, and wipe off that rosy outlook? Go elsewhere to blow your 365 sails… Yo-ho commander… Buzz off and away dude or I just might slap you…!”

Wait…! Richard, you keep telling us you are a hopeless optimist, why the negative self perception?”

My wife and I have a satirical expression, “If it is not broken, it is not the Radstone’s.”

AC blows up in winter, back porch light switch turns on lamp in front of house, new shower head upstairs, floods downstairs hallway (I still can’t figure that one out)… You know… normal everyday stuff.

And with tonight being the first evening in I don’t know how long that the prospect of an hour of alone time with my wife (love my daughter to tears, but she is at an activity), on the horizon, I guess I am being a self humorist in preparing for a broken agenda through not finding a friend in a timely manner.

Well, I’m wrong and am educated with another lesson in faith towards humanity. The smile that first caught my attention has not faded, seems it has dodged the veal of skepticism, and behold the sky’s of fellowship have opened up as once stranger, Brittanies, accepts the call to become our friend of day 201.

“Keep a smile on your face every day and smile at everybody you meet” Brittanies emphasizes.

For half of a year, I’ve been smiling at the world, and to be quite honest, at times it does become a little exhausting. Yet one thing is undeniable, every time I do, something comes back to me. Brittanies sums it up nicely. “At the end of the day we need to pass it on, and if we do they will pass it on.”

What…? Is Brittanies a mind reader and has she probed into my evening of mentally subdued optimism?

I don’t know… But let me propose a more realistic thought.

Maybe she is a 365 catalyst, and tonight, I am meant to be her student. And, if this is cause for discussion, I am now on the receiving end of what I have been preaching, and evidence to the empowerment of the smile.

A smile that has led us to a stable set of wisdoms to consider in preparing for our progression in life.

“Be conservative because you never know how far you have to stretch yourself, your mind and your body.” Brittanies advises.

“You don’t want to give away too much because you don’t know what you need in the future.”

Clues me to a follow-up question, “How do we know when it is the right time to give?”

Brittanies leans towards the spiritual, “You’ll have a feeling and a knowing that today is the day. And if you have that feeling and you go with it… Only good can happen because you believed it was time.”

Brittanies talks of passing on a smile, something that we probably all appreciate.

I’ll not dispute that a smile is a powerful unifier, yet in a way Brittanies has given us a deeper reason to glow at our neighbors. She calls it a feeling and a knowing.

I view it as a listening and a permission to trust… Or in Brittanies words, “Only good can happen because you believed it was time.”

In a way, Brittanies has stood upon a pulpit in looking past herself in projecting her smile to us.

“And at the end of the day they will pass it on,” she declares.

And I counter… Brittanies, keep smiling my new friend, you have uplifted us all.

Richard has been glued to his chair for days, retouching images from some recent projects — remove all that is unwanted, enhance what is there and “keep it natural.”

I have to laugh about it sometimes; our world is obsessed with perfection, even at the expense of reality. However, to give equal voice to the art of retouching — a still photo is fixed, static, immovable, and sometimes “flaws” that would never, ever be noticed when a person is in motion, stand out so prominently that they overpower the whole. When personality, mood and natural body expression contribute their share to the overall look of a person you get a very different picture.  I could go on and on about this topic and the “false” images we are promoting to an ever self-confidence-loosing generation, but I’ll put my soapbox away (for now).

OK, so, I wandered off-track.  Where is Richard and why is he having his lovely wife host-writing for him today?  Well, once again, Richard’s schedule has compressed. As stated before, he has been retouching, prepping for a shoot tomorrow, and he still needs to shoot and write his 365 entry —  taking him to the point of making a choice between sleep and work.  As he needs to leave by 6:30am to be on set, I tell him to sleep and I will write his post for him.  He gladly accepts… hopefully he won’t regret his decision.

I will admit, I have been grumpy most of the day.  Hormones, lack of sleep, off-day… I don’t know, but my cup ‘o patience is empty. After dinner I suggest we all get out of the house and go for a walk – Dad, Mom, daughter, razor scooter, Scottie and Yorkie, the whole menagerie parading around the neighborhood, but it helps to shake my negative mood.  It has been raining and this evening is absolutely beautiful. Afterward, Richard suggests we all to Starbucks to get some hot cocoa and I could help him interview his 365 Stranger for day 200.   So off we go…

We arrive at Richard’s favorite Starbucks (I can think of at least 5 others within a short distance from our home – crazy).  “Wanna try a difference Starbucks tonight?” I ask.

“Not tonight. I like this one. There’s a lot of traffic and I always seems to meet someone here.”

Upon arrival, Richard immediately sees one of his past 365 friends and talks to him for a few minutes.  He feels at home and I go along with it.  A couple hot chocolates and a slice of pumpkin bread later, we find a table outside and wait. Richard has already had two rejections: interesting project, but not interested in being part of it. Richard doesn’t get ruffled or give up, he just counts them as two more people he has met and goes on.

As my daughter and I sip our warm pepper-minty cups and nibble on the bread, Richard approaches a couple sitting at a table.  He talks to them for a minute and our daughter pops out, “They’re gonna do it.”  Knowing that I am going to be host-writing today, I walk over to the table to be included in the conversation.

Meet our 365 Friends for day 200: Quintin and Jacklyn. Coming to Starbucks to take advantage of the wireless service, the friends huddle at an outdoor table to enjoy the evening and just be in the moment.

Quintin and Jacklyn are fun, intelligent and easy to talk with. I will not reveal their ages, but I seriously thought we were talking to college graduates, several years into a profession. I was surprised to find that I was quite wrong. They are both barely two decades old, yet their insight on life and wisdom was refreshing and amazing to me.  Both Richard and I left this meeting with a sense of hope for the future.

Quintin expresses, “Life has a way of unraveling on its own, but everything has a strange way of working out.” He adds, “A lot of people get really caught up in their future and stress about it.”

Jacklyn chimes in: “Enjoy where you are at the moment. Everyone is in such a rush.”

Now don’t get me wrong, these are not two kids just kickin’ it and letting life happen to them, quite the opposite. Their stance is more one of self-reflection, getting to know yourself and understanding what you have to offer. Being true to yourself and your gifts and relaxing about it – being OK with who you are.

Jacklyn explains that one of the greatest gifts her parents gave her was the ability to do self-reflection – her “key to life.” “So many people today are ‘self aware,’ but lack the ability for ‘self reflection’… when the door is unlocked, at least twist the door handle and check it out. Know yourself and see if it is what you want.”

We talk for a time on this subject and Quintin, when asked about what he sees in the future, presents a very intriguing idea. He explains that since 2008, and the subsequent economic turmoil that has effected so many, he has noticed, “even in the youth, all around, all are starting to do things they want to do… because, ‘how bad can it really get?’”

Both Jacklyn and Quintin express that uncertainty is one of the greatest gifts in life. When each day comes you can ask yourself, “What is going to come my way? I am going to wrap my arms around it.”

Jacklyn explains that we cannot see the future. Using the 1950s as an example of a time when we were better able to look to the future and map out a plan with some level of certainty: “50s life was so set-out…  our lives are not so mapped out.”  However, “we can hop on the computer and be more aware of things happening around (us). I like to think there is a happier outlook for the future”

Jacklyn and Quinton — thank you for your optimism, your maturity, and your fresh outlook on life.  I hope for everyone that we can all do some self-reflection, trust our inner voice and step forward with confidence with the belief that we all have something valuable to bring to the game — all in good time, all in good time.

“It’s like a near death experience on a daily basis… It’s comedy…! Pure comedy!”

An expression that has captured my ear in speaking with two alumni’s of where I studied, both of whom prefer to remain anonymous.

I run into them as I return rented equipment to an unspecified renal house. It’s Sunday, its cold, its rainy and its damp, and with that I welcome the opportunity to escape the downpour to talk life shop in what becomes a mixture of the sarcastically funny to the economically difficult aspects of a career in the arts.

I won’t mention names, but I have been instructed to let you know of their ages, and in honoring my promise to protect identities we will call our new friends “Red Vans,” age thirties, and “Blue Sneakers,” age twenties.

Red Vans is the catalyst to our conversation; we’ll call her Red from here on. She tells me of the day. “Boy, you caught us on a bad day to interview. There have hardly been any customers and we are not in the best mood.”

Yet Red delivers this news with a sense of approachability. “That’s what makes the project so real, people however they are, and I’m sure you guys have something to say,” I reason.

“Alright, but you can’t photograph us… we have not done our hair,” Red kicks back with an infectious laugh.

“Hey, I need to have a photo to prove you are real.” I playfully harass.

“OK, you can shoot our feet.”

The banter has begun, and readers, welcome to the world of two emerging artist and my new friends.

By the way the above near death linked to comedy comparison… its Red humor.

And a humor I am beginning to understand is protective cynicism.

Red gives a bit of instruction to all emerging artists, “Read in between the lines always. Whether business, a loan, a job, a school or a person.”

Fairly sobering advice; advice that Blue Sneakers (Blue from here on) rapidly picks up on; and with the ten-year generation gap, it is interesting to bind their two responses.

Blue quotes, “Don’t even wait for anybody and don’t let anyone control your destiny.”

The point I see in both of their reasoning’s is this. As artists we have to listen to our internal selves in finding a way to perceive the world through our own unique eyes.

Let’s look at it in a theatrical context:
The Protagonist: Personal view of the world through a self-created emotional filter, linked to one’s ability own actual life experience.

The Antagonist: All the opinion, responsibilities and comparisons that are thrust upon us on a daily basis, or the one we self create through our own self-doubt.

Like Red proclaims, “It’s comedy…! Pure comedy!”

Link that to Blues, “Don’t let anyone control your destiny,” and you have the basic cocktail to the perseverance it takes to make a mark in the artistic world.

“I’m a free spirit that can’t be broken,” Red smiles as she goes on in telling me of her substantial student loan debt. A conversation that leads me to ask, “What would you advise anyone considering pursuing a career in photography?”

“Marry rich…! Just kidding!” she blurts out as she organizes the store inventory in preparing for the close of the day.

Just then a customer enters to pick up a rental order, and half a dozen credit cards (several needed to meet to deposit requirements) later, the tone is set for the continuation of the topic.

“Here is what I would really say,” Red resumes, “If you don’t mind living within your true means… Go for it!”

Red is certainly not a negativist, actually she is very astute, confidant and cynically realistic.

“They never told us at school that the market would be so over saturated. They did instruct us that it would be extremely difficult, but they did not communicate just how many photographer there really are out there,” both Red and Blue express in a united voice.

We talk of the history of the industry and relate it to the future of the trade. My conclusion, and words to all of us in the craft of story telling or art creation, “There will always be a place for the those who have something to say.”

Like I’ve said, “I’m a hopeless optimist.”

And optimism is the platform I will always stand. However in all growth there is trial, successes and failures. Otherwise, how could one truly dig deep enough to connect with individual self? The world will always conspire in some way to pull you off track. The temptations surround us and we are literally attacked with endless input the moment we open our sleeping eyes. Some steer us in the path to light, and others drag us into darkness. But that is the wonderment of the process. The fullest outcome is unknown, but for those of us who embrace the journey, and find the way to filter the difficulties, as well as the shallow hypes, perhaps are the ones who become the genius of tomorrow.

Blue talks of the misuse of technology and of it effects on society, “The internet and social media has affected life as I see it. I can compare it to some of the job interviews I’ve been on. When I was there I saw how so many of the eighteen and nineteen year olds could not interact face-to-face.

After that, I canceled my Facebook account. So what about what my friends are having for lunch, I’d rather talk in person.”

We’ve talked often of the responsible use of the new world of communication. Of it’s power and use in reaching out, and of its seductive grasps into a virtual word of digital isolation.

I’ll not group all tech users into any one category, or not segment any specific age demographic, for I have met some amazing youth in my travels. But I will make the claim as does Blue, “Look at people, talk and interact, for in that you will find the secret of life.”

“I’m not sure what will happen in the future… Maybe there will be a lot of people living in apartments trying to pay off their student loans.” Blue expresses.

Both Blue and Red are artists, living the artist’s life, and my hope for them is that they find their voice.

Blue smiles as we reach the end of the day, “I saved for cable and now I can watch Mad Men… I’m so excited!”

Make’s me think of the little pleasures, and of how, with the acquisition of things, status and of life’s positioning’s, the more we sometimes forget.

Red speaks of what ahead, “It’s going to be a hard ten years with the current state of worldly affairs.”

Followed by, and in magnificent Red form, “It’s going to be gold… pure gold!”

I like the thought of a golden future.

Let’s all hang on for the ride, “We are in this thing together!”

I just received an extremely humbling comment from one of my readers, Lisa, a fine blogger in her own right, “I love reading these and seeing the photographs of people. Each one is an inspiration in some way.”

And per her inspirational note, I must give applause to the many who have allowed me to photograph and interview them.

I’ve never considered myself a writer, but I’m doing my best to provide you with uplifting content.

In a funny way I have grown to consider you a vicariously extended family and have appreciated all of you comments. My gratitude is extended to you for all of your support and even a debate or two on several of my entries.

Your input matters and without you there would be no 365. I won’t lie; the project has made me a better person. That is the selfish part of it. However it has not come without a price to my sleeping schedule, time with my family and several business agendas that have been somewhat compromised.

So to hear from my viewers is the greatest payment I can receive, and to know that in some way our united mission to come together is making a difference to anyone is remuneration greater than the all mighty dollar.

I’m clueless where I will end up tomorrow and of how I will write its entry. Yet again your comments help to keep me on track.

We are way into 365 now and its subscriber base is  expanding on a daily basis. And though its traffic is still moderate, we have hit a plateau; a summit that I wish to push over. In the prospect of lengthening the 365 stride, I’m going to be brash in throwing myself at your doorstep to request your aid in growing our momentum.

Here it is, direct and to the point, I ask for your help in passing on a 365 link to as many as you feel would appreciate receiving it. I know this is a self-serving request, but one that is not motivated for self-gain, but more readily a desire to get the stories of my strangers turned friends to a broader audience.

It’s very late, or should I say early, as I am writing this entry, and like I said, I am not a writer, just a story telling visual artist and people loving dude, doing what I can to pass it on in a way that does not tranquillize. In getting back to the meeting of today’s friend I need to flash back several hours to a network studio.

It’s 10:00pm, my shoot has just wrapped and with two hours to days end, and even though the day’s fatigue is setting in, my 365 engine is revving up in accepting the fact that I will most likely be embarking on a late night outreach.

The last of our gear bags are packed and upon closing handshakes, final farewells and a set of 365 discussions, emerges client production coordinator Hilda, “What are the questions?” she asks.

One fact that needs to be mentioned, Xiomara has been at work since 6:00am, when the first shots of her busy day began. She is wonder of organizational skills and working with an amazing team of collaborators, her job has been to not only assure that my shoot goes well, but also the production of two other video productions which are being shot in tandem with my shoot. And after a sixteen-hour day on her feet, it would be acceptable to hear, “I’m too tired for an interview.”

But with the energy of a new morning awakening, Xiomara replies, “I’ll do it!”

Got to love this girl, she is unstoppable, and her wisdom’s demonstrate what gives her this special gift of enthusiasm. “Enjoy life to the fullest, and live each day like it is the last.”

Words we have heard on the streets from several of the strangers we have met, but this is the first time we have heard it from an on the job professional… one who says it at a time when many would be thinking solely of the length of day and of a readiness to return home. Oh, I forgot to tell you, we are working on Saturday night.

Xiomara reveals another secret to her disposition, “Always be nice to everyone… and always have a smile on your face. Never forget, a smile can make a difference.”

Xiomara is just one of those people persons. You know… the type of personality who blossoms in the midst of chaos, and has the sparkle to unite those she works with. Until tonight, I knew her not, and after sharing hours of studio time together I am indebted to her positive attitude and obvious commitment to help those she associates with.

The message she shines is as clear as the finest water, life is not about what we do, but how we do it; a zest to do the right thing, and a life spirit that she emits in delivering us advice for the future.

When I ask, “What do you see for yourself in the future?” it is apparent that Xiomara does not want to focus on herself. And after a pause of reflection, “I don’t know…” she replies.

I rephrase, “Where would you like to see the people of the world in twenty years or beyond?”

Solemnly Xiomara concludes, “Everyone in a place where they think about others and not about themselves. That way we can build something together. Or if not, we will destroy our universe slowly.”

I think I’ll pass on the destruction… Want to join me? It’s more fun to build stuff!

“Can I quote someone else?” Sherry queries.

“I have no rules, all the matters is we are no longer strangers, and it is good to meet you,” I reply.

Sherry is a little more than a stranger; she is a neighbor who lives about ten houses down the street from my where I live.

Per the prodding of my daughter, who as blocking my backing out of the driveway with a warp speed bicycle fly by, shouts, “Daddy, there is the perfect person down the street, I just rode past her, she is your 365 friend today!”

Boy do I have my family trained, or is it the other way around? Well, never the mind, I follow her inspiration and through her peddling wingsmanship (she is riding next to the car and smiling all the way) I drive up the block to her scouted coordinates.

Not wanting to be too creepy… because we all know everyone wants to talk to the stranger yelling out the car window… I stop just in front of my mailbox checking neighbor and exit the car, “Hi, I live just up the street, I am a photographer, and my daughter just told me I need to tell you of a project I’m doing.”

She lights up, “Sure.”

Quickly I realize that in a way, I am supporting my yesterday’s challenge to us of looking out our front doors to simply talk to a neighbor, and unintentionally my daughter has reined me in from a possible long away from home search; when tonight only minutes down the block is Sherry, a stranger whom I should really know as my neighbor. Thanks for redirecting me kid!

Sherry talks of the world we live in, “We don’t have a community and we are becoming a world made up of a wandering population. Older people are alone and the younger are lost in a misunderstood world of new technology. We are not on the right path.”

She smile, “Wow, you have really got me going!”

I once had a reader comment on how interesting it is to hear the thoughts of every day real people and I agree. “Sherry, is great!”

Never have we walked away from any new friend with the same exact outlook. A lot of shared perspective on a variety social topics, but all with their own unique spin. I hope we will never again judge a book by its cover.

Sherry is an advocate for bettering education, not only in the formal settings, but also in the social context of what we understand, “Kids are not being educated responsibly and socially there is too much resistance to new ideas and how to adapt them to new technology. The older generation is resisting it and the younger generation does not understand its good uses. I’m not a politician or a teacher, I work as an accountant for the IRS, but that is just the way I see it.”

My daughter bikes up, “Daddy dinner is in fourteen minutes, mom is making hot dogs!”

Spurred on by the grin of Sherry, I reply, Fourteen minutes is perfect, thirteen would not be enough, and I don’t think we have enough energy to talk for fifteen.”

OK, but I’ll hold you to it,” she finalizes. At nine she looks like she is on her way to being a lawyer or some other form of negotiator. I’ll start saving my tuition money now.

Off she blazes in a blur of pedal strokes, and now with the knowledge of cooking hot dogs pressing us, Sherry and I resume our conversation.

“We need to think about our homeless seniors. It’s a sad thing how inflation and the cost of living has forced so many seniors out of their homes. There is no way they can live on the $1000 or less a month that Social Security provides them. We need to find a way to help them more!” Sherry stances.

This one is a personal hot spot for me. My mom is widowed and eighty-seven. She is a picture of health, and recently due to an increase of rent, has had to find new living quarters. Luckily for her, she has children that are able to help her, but as Sherry concerns, what about those who are alone? All I can say is, “Let’s keep our eyes out to our elders, and if we can help in any way, let us do so.”

Sherry is on a roll, and with eight minutes left to hot dog overcook, we have time for two more topics, healthcare and the problems of irresponsible debt accumulation.

“Did you know we have a shortage of doctors in the big cities?” she questions me.

I’ve done no research on the subject, but here are Sherry’s findings, perhaps statistics she knows from her association with the IRS. “The big cities are too expensive to establish medical practices, and new doctors, most of whom have large educational loans and/or young families can not afford to begin a practice; so they choose to live in smaller, more affordable cities.”

The logic makes sense, and may I elaborate on it by saying, this is a global problem for all of us, no matter what our vocation. I can go off on it and relate it to the greater issues of GDP and what I feel are other problems of our new economy, things like we send out more aid than we keep within our own boarders. But that would make me a politician wouldn’t it? And I’m not doing 365 for that agenda. I’ll let go.

Yet Sherry, picks the ball up, “Its hard to feel sympathetic to those who get too overextended. People need to think more before they incur unrealistic debt in keeping up with the Jone’s. She talks of the terrible loan terms that too many signed in to, and of the home crises that it has led to. We need to live within our means,” she concludes.

I agree with her to some extent, the living on credit for status part of the logic.

But I propose two other points to the equation, first, what about those who are doing there best to merely survive, and secondly, the corporate greed mongers who are profiting with selfishly conceived financial models.

We see eye to eye on this addition to the conversation, and throw a big shame on the financial institutions and big business that have so profited through the destruction of so many lives.

Yet even with this, we can’t ignore the responsibility of those who signed into one-sided contracts. This is not an accusation; it is a compassionate plea for better education; a prompt for self-examination and a call to us all to campaign for more focus on contributing to a smarter economy.

I know…? I am being a little vague; the topic is vast and very complex. But simply let me propose this, “Is life about the new car, the most decorated home or an expensive degree. Or is it that we should be focusing on a more humanistic agenda, like self-reliance in educating ourselves, family and friends in finding way to stand independently on our own two feet.”

Oh yeah, that quote Sherry asked to share? From sci-fi author of the Darkover series, Marion Zimmer Bradley, “Your never too old to learn or too young to teach.”

Talk tomorrow, my friends.

At almost 200 days of circulating, I’m beginning to see a noticeable difference in my community. But before I explain what that difference is, let me tell you a little more about where I live.

For reference you can picture the Radstone lifestyle as somewhat loose and flowing mixed with the traditional regiment of daily routines and expectations of consistency. My wife refers to us as conservative hippies, a bizarre marriage of locked agendas and unpredictable spontaneity.

With that, we live in a metropolitan suburb, know as the San Fernando Valley, not really an open and nostalgic countryside, more like an urban city on the outskirts of an urban city.

And in these urban suburbs are 1.76 million people; like I said, it’s not the country escape many of us visualize when thinking of the inhabitants living on the edge of a metropolis.

Think of it this way, at only twenty-four miles of traffic jammed Interstate 101, and to the West of the City of Angels, my community has all the joys of an exploding populous, with a little more elbow room than that of the mentioned city to the East.

And with this elbow room comes a strange sense of isolation. Strange because even with the 1.76 million living in my neck of the woods, enough people to see movement at most hours, it is still possible to travel un-noticed by auto or by foot.

I don’t know how, but people seem to want to disappear into the wider streets that surround my suburban bliss and 1965 faux Colonial fixer upper.

But here is what I find brilliant. After 195 days of chin up and eyes open to the people around me, my community is shrinking before my very self, not so much in head count, but rather in my understanding of it.

It’s an amazing thing. I can truly say that on a regular basis I know the faces I pass and somehow I keep running into people who I know or know someone I know. Many times I am even flabbergasted by the people who, upon overhearing a 365 interview, reach out to me. A vast population is getting smaller every day, and I’m loving every minute of it.

I won’t say that I’m an icon of celebrity attraction, but the 365 thing is blowing me away. This simple change in perspective has literally shrunk my circle of influence, and in a bazaar way has put a weird magnet of, talk to me, in my stride.

My over-sized office bulletin board  testifies of this occurrence, for on it lays a growing list of referrals and passed on business cards. What I’m finding is one basic truth, “The more I pass on our 365 message… the more I find it passed back to me.” A very revealing finding that screams, “We receive what we give,” and once the ball of positive energy begins, it projects a gravity-like pull that I hope will grow to become delightfully uncontrollable. Like Keith of yesterday’s entry, I too must admit that I am a hopeless optimist.

This entry is a little offbeat from many of my past articles, and leaning on all of the “pass it on” gestures, and referrals from my 365 friends, I am inspired to activate us to a day of outreach.

Yes, I’ve seen a change in my own life, but now I’d like to understand what is happening in yours. Selfishly, I have been encapsulated in my own experiences, and to set the tone for a challenge today I must again restate my motivations, “All I am doing is following wherever 365 is taking us.”

And as deep as we are into it now, it is apparent to me that the more I keep my chin up two phenomena are emerging. 1) As my pool of strangers- turned-friends increases, the volume of referrals befalling me increases; and 2) (And this is the real interesting side effect) The people I see everyday in my life travels are becoming more and more familiar, and my controlling thoughts of self are diminishing incrementally.

The result, it’s not that strange anymore to hear, rolling in from over my shoulder, “Can you interview me?”

I wish I could interview and photograph everyone who reaches out to us, but that endeavor would be extremely overwhelming, and being a self-funded little rag-tag movement, that task would be a detriment to my livelihood.

Still, at times I wish I was resourced enough to be able to dedicate 24/7 to 365, then maybe I could make a deeper stab at getting everyone’s message to our minds. But with the necessities of a mortgage, a family to feed and the growing length of my honey-do list, that is just not practical at this time.

This is where you come in. Your efforts and outlook matter to what we are doing. And with this sentiment, I want to conduct a social experiment.

I’m throwing you a random opportunity to “Pass It On.”

Think of it as a bonding shout out, and with it I ask you to take a personal and uninterrupted couple of minutes in reflecting on how well you know your neighbors.

OK, here is the meditation music (you pick the tune)…

You’re cheating… Just humor me… try again and take a pause from your reading.  I know I’m fascinating , but I’m not going anywhere.

Go grab a tea, a crumpet, or something. Or better yet, stick your head outside and see if there is anyone to chat with for a little while, if not, maybe call that person or family member you have been thinking about. Whatever you do, give yourself allowance to escape and settle your intellect, to open up and listen to the world unconditionally. The rest of this blog is not leaving, we’ll be here when you’re ready to read on.

Thanks for sharing in our combined breath of unity, or the act of outreach you just placed upon someone else. Hopefully, with whatever you did, you found a bit of perspective, or perhaps brought a smile to the face of another, or better yet, experienced a sampling of both.

“Why do I do this?” you may ask. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Your participation is appreciated, and I’m sure we would all like to know about your experience. So please comment. Possibly this could be a banner summit for 365. It’s up to you.

To direct us on our path in introducing today’s friend of influence, we’ll flash back a few days to our interview of new friend Chris. When, as he and I were taking our photos, I had one of those over the shoulder experiences I am speaking of.

“Are you covering a story?” is inquired of us from a young woman who has been observing our impromptu photo session.

Like I said, it is so hard to interview everyone, but something about her energy made it impossible to ignore the idea of an interview. Plus, the day was so close to an end and with the fact that this bubbly young woman who engaged with us actually was employed by Follow Your Heart, it was just not the time to stop and chat. So we agree to reconnect today, thirty minutes before her shift.

Without further ado, please pass on a warm hello to Kat.

One thing I must reveal, and give credit to whom credit is due, the above challenge is not of me, it is a by-product of Kat’s opening statement, “Hating yourself is the worst thing to do. If you respect and love yourself, you are doing the world a huge favor. If you don’t like yourself, what you do will not be genuine.

“It doesn’t matter what people think of you. Hang around with people who like you for who you are.”

You must trust me that I’m not saying I hate myself, or implying that any of us do. Quite the opposite. What I am doing is respecting Kat’s council in offering us a view at a thought that Kat has introduced, “Are we genuine, and do we like who we are?”

Kat says, “It doesn’t matter what people think of you. Hang around with people who like you for who you are.”

The question that her words pose to me came to fruition in the form of a challenge. A challenge to do something to support her claim of a genuine people, and again, the genesis for today’s random past it on.

Kat thinks sensitively about the world ahead of us, “I really don’t know what to say, it is so unpredictable… (Big pause)… We are messing up the planet… (Pause two)… I guess I just hope we see it happening and choose to do something about it.”

We pull back to the present, “Some people are here for each other and some are less genuine,” Kat generalizes.

Pauses over, she quickly sums up her premise with an observance. “I see too many acting with each other through illusions like the internet and TV. Places where people can project false images. You have no idea of who the person at the other side of keyboard or screen really is, but when you interact face to face you get a better picture of the genuine person.”

(Kat… thanks for moving us towards Richard’s challenge today!)

 I look forward to hearing your Pass It On experience. May this become a banner moment that we can one day look back upon.

Talk soon, my friends!