Buddha Cowboy
"The bus came by, and I got on. That's where it all began…"
- "That's it for the Other One", Grateful Dead
We met on a Wednesday night at the m00n - an apartment rife with history…with momentum - that served as the center for a community that I had only heard the vague rumor and legend of from a high school friend. I was there almost by accident, having made a second sojourn to SLO based on the m00n's reputation, coupled with an insatiable curiosity to explore some of the new communities I'd been finding since arriving in California.
After a knock on the door of this apartment I had never been to, I was welcomed inside instantly - which surprised even me - not knowing that Wednesday was the pre-determined, weekly gathering night for the tribe, with the m00n being the default location. Greg was at that gathering, and somehow we started talking, with the topic turning to the recent death of Ken Kesey (of Merry Prankster fame) a few weeks before, and all things Prankster, counter-culture, and reality hacking.
All this discussion must have sparked a realization in Greg, and he promptly asked me: "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
To which I responded (in words I still recall to this day), "Plans? What are these plans you speak of…?"
His answer, of course, was "What do think about taking the bus out tomorrow?"
The next day I was tickled (after wondering if I had dreamed that whole conversation) to hear Greg's voice coming across the m00n's answering machine… "Avoooo-caaaaado…" (in his inquisitive, almost mind-penetrating, Greg voice). He came by the m00n soon afterwards and proceeded to give me the full run down on Beezelbus: how to open it up, shakedown and evaluation, and then the starting procedures.
We took off for a jaunt around the city of San Luis Obispo (all of which was new to me), picking up Shawn Jaques (if I recall correctly), Tyler Wagner, and perhaps someone else as we made our way through the city that morning. My biggest surprise came when - about an hour or so into our trip - Greg pulled the bus off the road into an empty lot/field. At this point I was just along for the ride and figured that this was just another stop in what Greg had planned for the day, so you can imagine my surprise when he said - in response to someone's query of "Why are we stopping here?" - "So Avocado can drive…."
And so the day went, with me driving a 1976 school bus around SLO, the lot of us picking up random (and not so random) people and ferrying them wherever they'd like to go, bringing the wave chaos and uncertainty to those who were willing to embrace it, and to get on the bus.
That's how I met Greg. In writing this, I find myself wondering: how much of the day *did* he have planned? Was he always planning on letting me drive? Was there an outline of the day in his head before we set off on it - broad brush strokes? - or were we flying completely by the seat of our pants? I never asked him, because it didn't occur to me and really, it didn't matter. But now that he's gone I find myself wondering at things like this: how much did, but at the same time I never really needed to know, the end result - the mystery and the wonderful day that had been cultivated by him - was all that mattered.
"The answer is never the answer. What’s really interesting is the mystery. If you seek the mystery instead of the answer, you’ll always be seeking. I’ve never seen anybody really find the answer, but they think they have. So they stop thinking. But the job is to seek mystery, evoke mystery, plant a garden in which strange plants grow and mysteries bloom. The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer"
- Ken Kesey
On one of my next visits through SLO I had contacted Greg ahead of time about staying with him, but ended up getting slowed down on my trip up the coast, so I arrived in the early morning after camping out along the way. Greg had asked over the phone if there was anything I would like for breakfast (I believe) and the one thing I mentioned was coffee. Greg wasn't a coffee drinker, but when I arrived at the house on Islay, I found a trail of coffee beans leading up the front steps and onto the porch, beckoning me into his and Dorene's home. I think that day was the first time Greg and I enjoyed one of our far reaching, easily roaming across subjects and back again, conversations that just glided on for hours. Later that day a number of folks started wandering by the house - I presume by design, but perhaps because they were just stopping by for various reasons - and Greg coaxed me out of my shell a bit (it didn't take much, but there were feather boas, housewarming parties, and hot tubs involved).
The next day we took the school bus out on a rescue mission to help some new VW campervan owners who were having problems on their virgin voyage up the coast. The image of the school bus parked in front of their camper - which I believe had "Group W Bench" inscribed on one side and a picasso reproduction on the other - on the side of the road was a study in wonderful contrasts, that of a big brother and a little brother, as a few of us piled out and set about having fun.
"We are all the same person trying to shake hands with our self"
- Wavy Gravy
In reading people's remembrances of Greg, one thing that stuck out was that he seemed to be one step ahead of most of us in his development as a human being. Whether he was wheeling his new neighbor - who he had never met - around in his wheelchair, providing sage advice to a friend, or breaking the seriousness of a moment by doing something mischievous… He just seemed to grasp the finer points of both "being a human" and "bringing out the best in our neighbors" a little faster than the rest of us.
And I'll go a step farther and pay him the same compliment which someone once bestowed upon me: He knew when to be silly and mischievous, but he was serious when it was time to be serious.
He also took his community seriously and seemed to "just do it" if it needed doing. Be that by having a hot tub in his backyard for the community - funded through a membership system and on it's own power meter so he could keep track of operating costs - or driving the bus on camping trips and winery tours. He made himself available to and for the community at large, and as such, fostered something bigger than himself. It was almost the act of washing the feet of others - supporting them in their endeavors and helping them along on their path and taking as much joy in doing so as he would a project of his own. And while I know that Greg had an "ego" (in the "sense of self" or "identity" perspective) many of his actions seemed ego-less.
As above, I find myself wondering how much some of these actions started off as Greg seizing opportunities - someone is coming into town, and this is a great opportunity to take the bus out and go on adventure - for both himself and and in general, or if they were part of a larger plan he had. Was there a balance he was walking in his life and how he spent his time? There must have been, and maybe part of this is what fueled his diving headfirst into teaching, which was so great to watch…
One of the last things that Greg said to me was after a reconnecting across a couple of long conversations: "You are much more three-dimensional now."
It's easy in remembering someone - be it after we lose touch with them or after they pass - to flatten them into someone who is more one-dimensional, to forget all the complexities of that person. Greg and I never lived in the same town, and we only lived in the same state for 3 years of which I knew him for maybe two, so I count myself lucky to have been able to spend the time with him that I did. I think I saw some of those complexities, in part because some of paths he took, and some of the choices I saw him making (and perhaps grappling with) resonated with me. But the thing that still strikes me is the aplomb he faced all of these with: no matter what Greg was facing, he seemed to approach it in a philosophical, almost detached, way. He seemed grounded in such a way that each matter at hand, each challenge, was a problem to solve and not worth becoming emotionally perturbed by… I'm not sure if this is just my perception, or if it was just something that had developed by the time I had met him, but in reflecting, it's something that I greatly admired in him, and is in part how I remember him.
I was pondering Greg and some of these thoughts on being "three dimensional" the other day as I rode my bike into work. When it came time to take off my iPod to put it through the security x-ray machine, I looked down to check the name of the particularly groovy track I was listening to… "Buddha Cowboy"
How fitting, I thought, that's certainly a way to describe Greg Junell: Buddha Cowboy.
Rest in peace, my friend. On to new adventures and fresh mountaintops to summit.
Random Greg Memories:
Posting to a mailing list in SLO that an afro-beats band comprised of people in our larger burner community was headed into town for a gig, and finding out later that not only had Greg and a crew attended the show, but that the band had ended up in the community hot tub that night.
Greg tearing the label out of my shirt after I made fun of the commercial slogan on his shirt while we were at burning man.
Hiding out in a delivery van (think of a van that delivers bread to shops, delis, and 7-11) during a dust storm after Burning Man while breaking down Arctica, eating turkey jerky.
Sitting in camp chairs during the same dust storm with Greg and Scott Hernandez, not saying a word, being buffeted by wind, dust, and not being able to see more than 10 feet away.
Greg keeping a spreadsheet of the things he did each weekend so he could remember it all.
Greg being hyper-aware of his carbon footprint, and living by example in trying to reduce it, by doing things such as not traveling by plane, even to "important" events, on the principle of keeping his footprint down.
Hearing him tell the story about firing off burning-man style fire cannons at a Mission College Prep School football game, and the talks he had with the principal (I believe) afterward.
Long discussions about EVERYTHING that wandered from topic to topic seamlessly.
His Lambda Sigma Delta sweatshirt.
Talking to him about his desire to teach, watching him manifest that, revel in it, excel at it. Talking to him about his teaching style and what he was doing at school, all the while just imagining what a great impact that Greg would have on any young person that crossed his path.
Him using just the tiniest amount of the most dilute soap in washing dishes so that less rinsing would be required, all to reduce his water consumption in a place where water wasn't necessarily abundant.
- "That's it for the Other One", Grateful Dead
We met on a Wednesday night at the m00n - an apartment rife with history…with momentum - that served as the center for a community that I had only heard the vague rumor and legend of from a high school friend. I was there almost by accident, having made a second sojourn to SLO based on the m00n's reputation, coupled with an insatiable curiosity to explore some of the new communities I'd been finding since arriving in California.
After a knock on the door of this apartment I had never been to, I was welcomed inside instantly - which surprised even me - not knowing that Wednesday was the pre-determined, weekly gathering night for the tribe, with the m00n being the default location. Greg was at that gathering, and somehow we started talking, with the topic turning to the recent death of Ken Kesey (of Merry Prankster fame) a few weeks before, and all things Prankster, counter-culture, and reality hacking.
All this discussion must have sparked a realization in Greg, and he promptly asked me: "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
To which I responded (in words I still recall to this day), "Plans? What are these plans you speak of…?"
His answer, of course, was "What do think about taking the bus out tomorrow?"
The next day I was tickled (after wondering if I had dreamed that whole conversation) to hear Greg's voice coming across the m00n's answering machine… "Avoooo-caaaaado…" (in his inquisitive, almost mind-penetrating, Greg voice). He came by the m00n soon afterwards and proceeded to give me the full run down on Beezelbus: how to open it up, shakedown and evaluation, and then the starting procedures.
We took off for a jaunt around the city of San Luis Obispo (all of which was new to me), picking up Shawn Jaques (if I recall correctly), Tyler Wagner, and perhaps someone else as we made our way through the city that morning. My biggest surprise came when - about an hour or so into our trip - Greg pulled the bus off the road into an empty lot/field. At this point I was just along for the ride and figured that this was just another stop in what Greg had planned for the day, so you can imagine my surprise when he said - in response to someone's query of "Why are we stopping here?" - "So Avocado can drive…."
And so the day went, with me driving a 1976 school bus around SLO, the lot of us picking up random (and not so random) people and ferrying them wherever they'd like to go, bringing the wave chaos and uncertainty to those who were willing to embrace it, and to get on the bus.
That's how I met Greg. In writing this, I find myself wondering: how much of the day *did* he have planned? Was he always planning on letting me drive? Was there an outline of the day in his head before we set off on it - broad brush strokes? - or were we flying completely by the seat of our pants? I never asked him, because it didn't occur to me and really, it didn't matter. But now that he's gone I find myself wondering at things like this: how much did, but at the same time I never really needed to know, the end result - the mystery and the wonderful day that had been cultivated by him - was all that mattered.
"The answer is never the answer. What’s really interesting is the mystery. If you seek the mystery instead of the answer, you’ll always be seeking. I’ve never seen anybody really find the answer, but they think they have. So they stop thinking. But the job is to seek mystery, evoke mystery, plant a garden in which strange plants grow and mysteries bloom. The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer"
- Ken Kesey
On one of my next visits through SLO I had contacted Greg ahead of time about staying with him, but ended up getting slowed down on my trip up the coast, so I arrived in the early morning after camping out along the way. Greg had asked over the phone if there was anything I would like for breakfast (I believe) and the one thing I mentioned was coffee. Greg wasn't a coffee drinker, but when I arrived at the house on Islay, I found a trail of coffee beans leading up the front steps and onto the porch, beckoning me into his and Dorene's home. I think that day was the first time Greg and I enjoyed one of our far reaching, easily roaming across subjects and back again, conversations that just glided on for hours. Later that day a number of folks started wandering by the house - I presume by design, but perhaps because they were just stopping by for various reasons - and Greg coaxed me out of my shell a bit (it didn't take much, but there were feather boas, housewarming parties, and hot tubs involved).
The next day we took the school bus out on a rescue mission to help some new VW campervan owners who were having problems on their virgin voyage up the coast. The image of the school bus parked in front of their camper - which I believe had "Group W Bench" inscribed on one side and a picasso reproduction on the other - on the side of the road was a study in wonderful contrasts, that of a big brother and a little brother, as a few of us piled out and set about having fun.
"We are all the same person trying to shake hands with our self"
- Wavy Gravy
In reading people's remembrances of Greg, one thing that stuck out was that he seemed to be one step ahead of most of us in his development as a human being. Whether he was wheeling his new neighbor - who he had never met - around in his wheelchair, providing sage advice to a friend, or breaking the seriousness of a moment by doing something mischievous… He just seemed to grasp the finer points of both "being a human" and "bringing out the best in our neighbors" a little faster than the rest of us.
And I'll go a step farther and pay him the same compliment which someone once bestowed upon me: He knew when to be silly and mischievous, but he was serious when it was time to be serious.
He also took his community seriously and seemed to "just do it" if it needed doing. Be that by having a hot tub in his backyard for the community - funded through a membership system and on it's own power meter so he could keep track of operating costs - or driving the bus on camping trips and winery tours. He made himself available to and for the community at large, and as such, fostered something bigger than himself. It was almost the act of washing the feet of others - supporting them in their endeavors and helping them along on their path and taking as much joy in doing so as he would a project of his own. And while I know that Greg had an "ego" (in the "sense of self" or "identity" perspective) many of his actions seemed ego-less.
As above, I find myself wondering how much some of these actions started off as Greg seizing opportunities - someone is coming into town, and this is a great opportunity to take the bus out and go on adventure - for both himself and and in general, or if they were part of a larger plan he had. Was there a balance he was walking in his life and how he spent his time? There must have been, and maybe part of this is what fueled his diving headfirst into teaching, which was so great to watch…
One of the last things that Greg said to me was after a reconnecting across a couple of long conversations: "You are much more three-dimensional now."
It's easy in remembering someone - be it after we lose touch with them or after they pass - to flatten them into someone who is more one-dimensional, to forget all the complexities of that person. Greg and I never lived in the same town, and we only lived in the same state for 3 years of which I knew him for maybe two, so I count myself lucky to have been able to spend the time with him that I did. I think I saw some of those complexities, in part because some of paths he took, and some of the choices I saw him making (and perhaps grappling with) resonated with me. But the thing that still strikes me is the aplomb he faced all of these with: no matter what Greg was facing, he seemed to approach it in a philosophical, almost detached, way. He seemed grounded in such a way that each matter at hand, each challenge, was a problem to solve and not worth becoming emotionally perturbed by… I'm not sure if this is just my perception, or if it was just something that had developed by the time I had met him, but in reflecting, it's something that I greatly admired in him, and is in part how I remember him.
I was pondering Greg and some of these thoughts on being "three dimensional" the other day as I rode my bike into work. When it came time to take off my iPod to put it through the security x-ray machine, I looked down to check the name of the particularly groovy track I was listening to… "Buddha Cowboy"
How fitting, I thought, that's certainly a way to describe Greg Junell: Buddha Cowboy.
Rest in peace, my friend. On to new adventures and fresh mountaintops to summit.
Random Greg Memories:
Posting to a mailing list in SLO that an afro-beats band comprised of people in our larger burner community was headed into town for a gig, and finding out later that not only had Greg and a crew attended the show, but that the band had ended up in the community hot tub that night.
Greg tearing the label out of my shirt after I made fun of the commercial slogan on his shirt while we were at burning man.
Hiding out in a delivery van (think of a van that delivers bread to shops, delis, and 7-11) during a dust storm after Burning Man while breaking down Arctica, eating turkey jerky.
Sitting in camp chairs during the same dust storm with Greg and Scott Hernandez, not saying a word, being buffeted by wind, dust, and not being able to see more than 10 feet away.
Greg keeping a spreadsheet of the things he did each weekend so he could remember it all.
Greg being hyper-aware of his carbon footprint, and living by example in trying to reduce it, by doing things such as not traveling by plane, even to "important" events, on the principle of keeping his footprint down.
Hearing him tell the story about firing off burning-man style fire cannons at a Mission College Prep School football game, and the talks he had with the principal (I believe) afterward.
Long discussions about EVERYTHING that wandered from topic to topic seamlessly.
His Lambda Sigma Delta sweatshirt.
Talking to him about his desire to teach, watching him manifest that, revel in it, excel at it. Talking to him about his teaching style and what he was doing at school, all the while just imagining what a great impact that Greg would have on any young person that crossed his path.
Him using just the tiniest amount of the most dilute soap in washing dishes so that less rinsing would be required, all to reduce his water consumption in a place where water wasn't necessarily abundant.