Happy Summer Equinox!

I always loved the summer solstice. As a younger man, I had many great opportunities to celebrate this day. My two most memorable ones were: When I was 17, I was on my first trip to Europe with an art expression group of college students from the University of Pittsburgh. We were so full of ourselves back then. We were in the highlands of Scotland and staying at a bed and breakfast in the village of Glenfinnan. This village sits on Loch Long. It was June 21, 1988, the longest day of the year. Somehow, a group of us found cloaks and candles and set off in true druid style. The bridge you see in the picture was adorned with candles and we took turns interpreting Yeats and Shelly and shouting barbaric yelps to bring forth summer. It was truly the first time I connected with nature.

My second best Summer Solstice came June 21, 1989 in Shoreline Amphitheater, Mountainview, CA. I was on my way to college back in Portland, OR. I had seen the Grateful Dead a few times up to this point; enough to consider myself a dead head. Little did I know what was in store for me. Mountainview is just north or Palo Alto and south of San Francisco. This amphitheater was nothing like I had experienced before. The place just seemed free and welcoming to my skewed view of the universe and I never felt alone, even though I was traveling by myself. I was off on an adventure that I climbed out of in 1993. After serious touring across this country, graduating and moving back to Minnesota a changed man. Forever.

Until now, my change was inside. Now I am about embark on a change inside that will greatly affect my perception by others and by myself. There has always been a view I have held of myself. A vision of how life could be without this prison I'm in now. I am on my last week of real food and real portions for the remainder of my life. Food has been my prison and I've served my sentence out in the body long enough. Don't get me wrong. I am going to miss the hell out of food. Cheeseburgers and popcorn and anything my Wife, Lisa bakes. I'm eating this week like it's my last rights. Don't get too close or you'll pull back a stump. Like Bob Dylan sings so eloquently, "Any day now, any day now, I shall be released."