I can’t sit here in New Orleans and not be nostalgic for my time spent in college.

I graduated with my degree from UCLA World Arts and Cultures, after taking on a course load that was … let’s call it non-traditional. Non-traditional in the sense that it came from the tradition of everything is a learning opportunity. There were no lines-to-not-cross, and all modalities of learning were fair game: from the Theatre of the Oppressed to Ballet Folklorico, from Haitian Vodou to Koranic calligraphy.

“So… what are you going to do with that???”

That’s the refrain we often hear when pursuing an education off the beaten path. It seems like an innocuous question, one we often wonder to ourselves. But it plagues the student with the perceived need for an answer to life’s greatest mystery. We learn because we love to learn, for the act of learning, and not to force our will upon the lesson. We never know where or how our education will take us, and the things we learned and forgot years ago live within our DNA beyond the utilitarianism of a skill set.

That’s what New Orleans is teaching me. As a Freshman, I took an Intro to Folklore class and was “forced” to watch All on a Mardi Gras Day, a film about the Black Indians of Louisiana. Didn’t seem relevant to much, but watching movies in class is never a bad thing. Later, I had a chance to take a class with Donald Cosentino, whose expertise is on Haitian Vodou, Santeria and Candomblé (check out this syllabus!). Needless to say, it was an incredible class, filled with spirits and santos, a window into a world that was far away and yet living in the botanicas on our neighboring streets.

Yesterday, I went into a Voodoo shop and finally had a chance to visit some of these old friends that I had learned about years ago. I see and respect the power that these spirits have in many people’s lives. They are a representation of Trickster or Love or Anger. It is very powerful medicine and shares commonality with a number of ancient and new age modalities of connection. Walk into a voodoo botanica and you will find nag champa, intention candles, crystals, beads, tinctures and all the other usual fixtures. But you will also find the embodiment of the spirits of the Lwa, whose unique characteristics allow a Mambo to communicate with the spiritual world with great precision.

Today, I’m sitting at a Voodoo-y coffee shop with a porch view of the fabulous above-the-ground tombs that New Orleans is so famous for. I’m going back through my coursework and I’m just amazed at the stuff I was learning. I had forgotten the impact of these conversations. They were so academic at the time. Cosentino reciting the names and characteristics of Gede or Damballah, my creation of a digital alter for the latter spirit as a final project. Just going about my academic career in the path of the dark and light as a naive little college kid.

As Halloween approaches, one shop will have Mama Lola herself speak. I could actually go see, in person, a woman I had read about years ago as required reading, who has come up twice with my brother-in-law as an example of a spiritual networker.

It’s incredible the synchronicities that are happening around our self-education.

You have an experience for no particular reason, only to find years later that there was a purpose. Do you believe in coincidence? You can choose to believe that your existence is completely random and a simple aberration in statistical probability. Or you could accept the challenge to direct your own film, cast a wide variety of characters, and let the screenplay write itself through your interactions. You might be surprised by who comes to visit you. Set up the joke but don’t write the punchline.

I came up with a brilliant app idea. What the idea is, specifically, is unimportant to the story, but just know that it’s such a good app idea that as I thought about it, I realized “someone else MUST have done this already.”

But I didn’t pull out my phone and check the app store (also, it helps that I don’t have a smart phone right now). I took out a pad of paper and I started mocking it up, with the understanding that “if someone’s already done this before, I’m going to see it as a sign that I should at least contact them because we’re clearly very similar thinkers and this person must be very awesome.”

Someone else has already done it. It isn’t available for Android and it’s lacking some of the features I imagine it could have. I’m going to contact the people who built it because one of the founders is JUST like me.

From her bio: “I excel at prolific idea generation, brand voice, dealing with crazy people, thinking visually, team love, gut intuition, powerful presentations, getting wonky with research, digital thinking, voraciously following what’s new, and solving problems.” Right?! Great minds think alike.

Here’s my takeaway from this, and it gets down to the core process of ideation: just because it’s been done before doesn’t mean you should feel like it can’t be done again, or done differently, or at least flushed out past that first moment of “oh, someone else thought of this before me.”

Remember, there’s nothing new under the sun.

Recognize that when you come up with a copycat idea, that you’re connecting into a matrix of likeminded people who are quite likely to be closely aligned to your principles. You can always build it:

Better/Differently/Again/Together

As if it were possible to keep up with the endless newscycle of the day, one particular story caught my eye tonight in the endless stream of Syria-Cyrus-and-Shutdowns. Late-night show host Jimmy Kimmel executed a flawless critique of rap impresario Kanye West’s pleasantly absurd BBC interview by reading back the exact transcript, acted out with children playing Kanye and the interviewer.

It’s reminiscent of Tina Fey’s impersonation of Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin, where in lampooning the Maverick, she employed direct quotes and costuming that were right on the money.

The absurdity of Kimmel’s bit invoked an all too expected outlash from Mr. West, with the hip hop mogul tweeting threats and admonishing the comedian’s on-point commentary. A word of advice I heard somewhere: never heckle a comedian. You’re playing with fire.

Nestled in the Kootenays of British Columbia, on a 200 acre farm, there lives an enchanted neighborhood where Canadians have gathered for 16 seasons to celebrate the end of the short, northern summer. Shambhala Music Festival is, like its namesake, as much a journey as it is a destination.

For those who have been following my travels, you’ll know that Canada was my northernmost destination planned this summer. This leg of the trip has been my summit, the apex of my triangulation. That isn’t to say that it’s all downhill from here, but I did pass the 5,000 mile mark on the odometer (plus an additional 7,000 miles flown).

I pulled into Nelson on Wednesday evening and explored the town before it closed up for the evening, at 6 PM, no less. Quaintly nestled between sharp peaks and a glowing lake, Nelson is a town that was hit with an influx of conscientious objectors to the Vietnam War in the 60’s, and has since become the pot capitol of Canada. One 5th generation local I spoke to claimed that more than 60% of households grow the plant, and it is a big part of the local economy. Whatever your feelings on the subject, there is no doubt that Nelson is a wonderful little town, full of hippie-centric businesses.

A waitress recommended checking out a nearby park that is normally filled with Rainbow folk. As I drove up, I spotted a bus and 10-12 barefooted, dusty people that looked friendly. I had a variety of beers leftover from my journey through Oregon, and as Shambhala is a no-alcohol festival, I was joyed to have a group of thirsty Canadians with which to share some delicious Ninkasi. There was guitar playing, I pulled out my melodica. Drinks were consumed, tales were told of cross-country hitchhiking in English and French. One girl needed a ride into Shambhala the next day to meet up with a friend.