In September I traveled to a men’s dinner in Seattle with a couple of hundred in attendence. There were two warmup speakers that talked of their personal experience with life’s troubles and of finding Christ and the right track. Very inspiring to hear people be so open about their personal stories. Then the main speaker was Jeff Kemp who was quarterback for Seattle Seahawks and local celebrity.

Jeff talked about how men play defense and offense so to speak. How to see opportunity in the places where things look impossible. Very good stuff really and a glimpse of how a man commands by watching and listening to Jeff who obviously can. But as his talk moved forward he got to talking about mentorship which is the next step after manhood. There is so much emphasis on achieving manhood that one thinks that it is the final step on the ladder. But mentoring comes next. And this was the main point of his talk, his plea.

This connects to yesterday’s post really nicely. Remember the desperate little bean who through pure will power got my attention and got to be part of the future. Well, he convinced me to make that investment in him, an investment in the future, his future, our future. And that is the basis of mentorship which starts with the decision to invest in that someone and the rest follows.

Off to breakfast and work. I have a retreat starting tonight that I will be fighting to get to. Yup, up up and away, love, Felipe.

Last evening we had a private showing of Phil’s Camino here in the living room of Raven Ranch house. Our Wiley worked miracles to get us linked up to it out there somewhere wherever it resides. We Skyped with Annie while we watched. It is 27 minutes long and the twelve of us watched it twice clutching Kleenexes and champagne flutes. Wow!

It is beautiful, soulful, poignant and funny here and there. To me as having been involved with much of the component parts it is amazing to see the whole (95% there). And the whole is a beautiful story and much larger than the pieces. I am so so lucky to have somehow been a part.

This early morning I was up at 0530 and scurrying around the kitchen making a fire and coffee and cleaning up the leftover party mess. I got to sweeping the floor of debris and had a little pile to scoop up when I spied one little dried bean there amoungst the crumbs, toothpicks and leaves. I knew exactly what it was by its distinctive shape, size and color as one of My Rebecca’s precious “Yu Hoh Wong” bean seeds that she faithfully collects and dries and saves for her next year’s garden. How easy it would have been to sweep that pile into the dustpan and on into the fire. But that one seed was crying out to get my attention. It started by telling me of its winter sleep that it was just embarking on with its deep subtle mysteries. It told me of the miracle of spring coming and a wonderful growing season full of such joy and promise. It told me of a bountiful harvest and how one seed would multiply to be a hundred provided with a little food, water, sun and protection. It said that it’s nourishment would help my family and friends prosper and that would ripple outward into the Universe. It said that after a beautiful summer it too would experience an meaningful autumn of life just as I was now. It’s beautiful framework would dry and get ready to go back to the earth but first it would give forth one precious pod that would contain the future provided that someone would pick it and dry it and save it.

OK OK I picked the little guy up and put him with his budddies in the little brown envelope there on the kitchen counter. A lesson from one little desperate Yu Hoh Wong bean seed, right? One seed is much much more than one seed I learned.

But it is so much like our desperate little 27 minute film. Somehow, someway it has gotten this far through thick and thin. It has survived on meager rations and a little moisture where it could find it. It begged, borrowed and stole. Saint James noticed it struggling and appreciated its intention and shortly afterward the Universe began to conspire in it’s strange convoluted way to push it forward to this point. We are so lucky to be here to ride along with it. But most importantly it is a little seed that promises much.

Happy to be a small part of the whole, love, Felipe.

Woke up in the early morning dark feeling exactly that, war weary. The chemo forces and the cancer forces duke it out constantly, all day, all night. There is some ebb and flow to it but it goes on and on and on. They are at each other’s throats right now as I try to maintain equilibrium in the bigger picture.

Keeping the battlefield cordoned off to just the body seems a full time project. They keep tumbling into the mind but I always manage to push them out with some considerable effort. My major fortune is that they will never reach my soul. They may occasionally cause disruption in my mind but that’s as far as they can get. Ooh, I like it. Never verbalized that before.

Looking at the cover of this month’s AARP magazine I spy along the edge of the cover a heading called “Healthy You”. Then under that: “50 Tips To Feel Amazing”. Cool! Feeling amazing is good, the last time I checked. Then under that are four of the tips, one of which is “Prevent Cancer”. Nice tip right? I’ll jump right on that right after I build a better s’more and after I get more out of my oil changes. I like the way they slipped that in there. What am I doing reading that anyway, that’s for old guys.

OK, we got all that stuff figured out, time to move on. Have to photograph a bunch of genuine Camino footgear so I can do their portraits. Have to fix some stuff over at Our Jennifer’s. Have to get ready for a job starting tomorrow. Have to, this is the big one, get ready for the sneak preview of a rough version of Phil’s Camino, the documentary, tonight. I will fill you on that tomorrow, all right?

Take care for now y’all, love every inch of you, Felipe.

OK, here I am and I accept the challenge. Today we are blogging about these itsy bitsy pickled cucumbers that are one of the yummy garlicky products from the kitchen of Catherine and Dana. They are tiny, you can see the dime in the pic. And they have stripes like real watermelons but they are cucumbers. So they were dubbed Mouse Watermelons, of course. And a big hit at tapas.

Can a blog post be written about these little veggies and then there is the question of why would anyone bother? I am bothering because ever since I heard this name I haven’t been able to get it out of my head? Maybe this will help me. See if you can do it now that you have heard it. Yea, mouse watermelons. See?

Hehe, love you, Felipe.

I hardly know what the word “blog” means but somehow we have managed to crank out 588 posts over the last year and a half. And I/we still seem to use I/we interchangeably you will notice along the way. And that is the important part, that we are moving along the Way together. I am meeting you, you are meeting me, you are meeting each other.

This all started back before Spain when Esther and the nurses at the hospital thought a blog was the perfect avenue for me to communicate with. And I said OK, not really knowing what I was getting into. Somehow the name Caminoheads came into my thoughts and I mentioned it to Annie and she jumped all over it. And for $84 I got a domain for two years and we/I were on the air.

But beside all that history I really want to thank you the readers that have been with me and brought so much encouragement. Just really want to thank you right now, right here, on November 2nd for being here. You really help make this what it is now.

And I would like to encourage you to leave a comment on a post that grabs you. I really thank all those folks that have done that in the past. So, much good inspirational juice has come from your thoughts bouncing off my thoughts and back and forth again. Some of the banter has been priceless. Don’t stop!

Yes, we all only have so much time, true. But now with winter setting in at least our Northern Hemisphere Caminoheads will need something to do during the gloomy darkness. So let me encourage you to craft up a thoughtful comment for all our benefit. Alperfect, althankful, love you, Felipe.

We are in between storms here too. It’s been raining and blowing like heck for a couple days and more to come. Have the generator all ready to go in case the power goes out. But this is the very stuff we were praying for back in August and September when it was so crispy dry.

I’m hoping for kind of a lazy day hopefully. Just want to spend time imagining Maggie on her birthday in Santiago. What a great scene. So happy for her at the moment and looking forward to her reflections coming up in the future.

OK, here comes the next storm, rain coming down. November is the storm month here and here we are the first of November. It is sort of like summer holds on longer than is natural and we all cheer it on but then when it can’t hold on any longer the winter force snaps back with a vengeance. That’s what November seems like to me.

Have a walk this afternoon and we are starting earlier because of the darkness. The afternoon walks we are moving from a 1600 to 1530 start for three months. I don’t know maybe we will have to back it up another half hour in December. All my walks the first time we hiked “across Spain” were in the morning and we never had this problem.

Probably have to walk the alternative trail today. The regular trail I call the “Mary” trail and it goes through the woods. But when it is stormy we stay out of there. Falling limbs are called widowmakers around here. So we have the “Joseph” trail that is safely all out in the open.

OK, we will be safely out of the storm and Maggie will safely be in Santiago. Sounds good to me. Later, love, Felipe.

Here are some recent emails between Maggie and myself:

Maggie ~ how are we doing over there? Good, bad or indifferent, doesn’t matter. There is no wrong way to do the Camino. We are there to gather insights, right? Insights, insights, insights feeding our inner Camino. Bless you sweetheart. Love you, Felipe.

How lovely to see your msg. Hard to believe one day before Santiago. The deeper part of me does not want this to end. I cannot express my experience on an Android. My battery is almost out so I will recap from home. Maggie

Maggie ~ so glad to hear from you and to hear that you are on schedule. Have to admit that I was a little worried about you but you are fine. Sometimes deadlines can ruin a good thing. I will put up a post with your words. Thanks for taking the time. Love you,, Phil.

Leaving now
..not sure my words are that interesting
I was going to recap when I returned home. Now, off to Santiago!! Maggie

Here is a lovely description of the last day of filming about a year ago here at Raven Ranch, the day our beloved dog Sture died. My Rebecca had a writers get together yesterday and produced this piece for it, brand new.

Impressions from a memorable day

“A year ago, not to the day, but near enough. Phil’s Camino film crew here for the weekend to get footage of his home turf to complement the Spanish pilgrimage. That last night, Sunday, after long days and hours of interviews with family, doctors, friends, was a party. It was cool, being November, maybe even a little cold. The night was clear and starry. There was a crackling fire outside (because that’s where we party, regardless of the season). Wiley and several of his friends—Josh and Dom for sure, and two girlfriends (former and current at the time), Dom the sound man still toting the sound boom around collecting ambient noise to add to the soundtrack. Jessica from San Diego huddling inside by the woodstove, despite the indoor temperature having reached a suffocating 78°. Sausages grilling on the barbecue, a vat of wassail simmering on the Coleman stove atop the picnic table. Rick, one of Phil’s fellow pilgrims, made paella, and somehow our big spoon got so hot that the potholder melted and fused onto the handle. It’s there still, the rough dirty green fibers marring the smooth black plastic, whispering “remember this night.”
Sture, our beloved big black dog, recently diagnosed with cancer, valiantly hanging in all day so patiently with all the interviewing, listening in on deep conversations about life and death. Lying there in the overheated house (he always liked being out in the cold—it reminded him of his homeland, Sweden. Particularly when it snowed—to see his pure black fur sprawled out in the whiteness was a treat). Finally the cameras quit rolling and everyone went out to party and eat. Ah—at last. He perked up and began to cruise around amongst the partiers In search of edible possibilities. I was looking at him– how beautiful he was! Soft shiny fur and bright eyes, tail wagging –when suddenly he just dropped to the ground. Stone dead.
Phil, as usual in a crisis practical and collected, touched his eyeball and pronounced him dead. I was in shock for a few seconds and then my grief burst forth in nearly hysterical weeping. It was all my grief, for all the cancer, for Phil and for Sture, breaking the dam of my calm acceptance. As different friends hugged me and lent me their shoulders to cry on, Phil and Wiley wrapped him in a special quilt made by Phil’s grandmother for infant Phil and put him in the truck that he loved to go in wherever Phil was going. Stunned silence stitched spaces in the murmuring condolences. Josh said to me, “Wow—sometimes life is so . . .sudden.” and I thought yes. Life is sudden. Death is sudden, but it’s life, life life.
That night I was supposed to sing in a concert but life suddenly happened. In the end, I sang for Sture. Sang “Blessings on your Journey” around the campfire with other voices joining in as they got it. Eyes shining bright with tears, I sang for Sture. Fully present to the very end, he lived a life as noble as any I can imagine.”

Yes, it was quite a memory for everyone there. We laughed and cried at the same time. Ahh, Felipe.

I want to give you some very very encouraging news in from Annie the Director/Producer of Phil’s Camino. We have been working on this project for roughly a year and a half now and things are coming together sufficiently to have something to show folks. So, Annie had a screening of the film last Sunday in LA sharing it with a select audience to gather important feed back.

Here are some comments from the viewers:

“A must see. Soulful and moving”
“This film has so much meaning. It takes courage to live full out as Phil does; and it takes courage and skill to make a film that rings true. This one does!”
“It was wonderful”
“Magnificent — it’s sitting inside my heart”
“Moving…touching…transformative”
“Beautifully filmed”

Nice, right? These are very encouraging comments obviously. This is what we live for, to make some, difference. We’ve all had our noses so close to the grindstone that it is a breath of fresh air to see this kind of reaction from viewers outside the old smoke filled room. Yea.

Here is what Annie said in conclusion to her update:

“Anyway, Felipe, this is most definitely the little film about a big dream that is very close to being done. St. James is working hard as our Executive Producer and the crooked places are being made straight.”

Well that is the way it is at the moment, love you, Felipe.

p.s. – let us all be “sitting inside” each other’s hearts always.

That’s how my day started out, no joke. You know, everything has alarms or rings, or ringtones, seems like EVERYTHING. I’m reaching a critical point where I am starting to block stuff out and not pay attention. Is it all really that critical?

But OK that was a rant. But this morning my portable chemo pump started alarming all over the place: High Pressure, High Pressure, High Pressure!
Yea, and all before coffee. Gee, I don’t know, can I ignore it? Well, I guess not. So I call the magic 800 number and after answering a bunch of questions finally get the go-to-gal in North Carolina. And she starts asking me questions like what is the name of your pump and I say “Pancho”. And she says huh. She doesn’t know who she is talking to, obviously. What she really wanted to know, which is of lesser importance, is that it is a CADD-Legacy Plus.

So, it didn’t take her long to pinpoint the old problemo. It was the sort of a thing only a redneck would come up with so I felt pretty stupid but it turned into a good laugh. In tracing the plastic line that connects Pancho to my port I came across the point where I had pinched it off with my suspenders clip where the tube ran out of my clothing and across the top of my jeans. Yea, right there where a fella clips things together. This is all before coffee, mind you.

Well, that’s how it all started out but things improved. Had a great walk with Bill (the new guy), Dana y Catherine. We got a lot of talking in, high quality talking. Then got some taxes paid, bills paid, work done. Now I have to put my redneck hat back on and prepare venison heart for dinner, dinner of champions!

Tomorrow have some great news to report from Annie about Phil’s Camino documentary. So stay tuned, love you, Felipe.