"Time Equals Vision"

Dave recounts his visit to Los Angeles and the Pen America Fellowship reading.

I have something in my life now that most people don’t.

That one thing is TIME, and I’ve got it by the ton.

Yesterday I was gathering wood in the late afternoon. The light was dimming rapidly as it always does after the golden hour. I had to collect an armful of dead manzanita branches to get my fire going; it burns a lot hotter than oak and when wood is cold, it’s harder to get a fire going. I was actually rushing a bit and not having felt any real pressure from a lack of time, I noticed it graphically. I was noticing how it felt to be rushed. To be honest I was a little sick and was running low on energy, but I still noticed time in a new way.

Time is a remarkable luxury. I never realized what it meant to have so much, and it makes me feel rich. Everything takes an inordinate amount of time in the city. Out here in the country though, I’ve realized that lack of time has always been an issue for me. And nothaving enough of anything is a feeling we (the 99%) all share.

I remember adding up my lost time in Los Angeles. The figure was immense; there were endless time-consuming obstacles. Traffic alone wasted a month and a half of every year.90 stressful minutes traveling nine miles, only to be a half hour late because there was no parking.

Moving out of the city to the country I got all that time lost in traffic and parking back—plus some. I had replaced or fixed everything and now had loads of extra time. I wondered what to do now that I finally felt safe from another house expense. Mostly, I just stared at nature’s wonders like a man on a morphine drip.

My best mate, a famous commercial director, visited me. We took in the local sites,walked though town and had dinner. When we got back, he looked up at the clear night sky. He said to me, “Your view is up, not out.” I chuckled. My friend, who had filmed on six continents and who had seen everything, was literally star struck by the Milky Way. He asked me why it was white. “That’s why they call it the Milky Way,” I said, still laughing. We stood quietly for a long time, starring straight up. My friend said to me in dream-like tones, “This place is amazing… Dude, you should write a blog. It could be your ticket to the art center.”

I reminded him I’m not a blog guy; I hate talking about myself and my life isn’t interesting enough. But he countered, “This is the Odyssey, you are Odysseus, you’vebeat mythic obstacles to get here. You ARE that guy.” His poetic analogy of my life was intimidatingly grandiose—I couldn’t see what he did. I’ve lost more battles than Odysseus and I’m not that clever. I do, however, have street smarts and I’ve probablyrecovered from being told “NO” more than Odysseus ever did. Hey, show biz is tough.

Maybe Odysseus could serve as inspiration?

I have freely shared my considerable voice-over knowledge with PEN America, a well-known not-for-profit organization helping writers of color with no connections...