During my first drift I have to admit that I was quite resentful of having to walk for four hours so that this notion of the “comfort zone” would be overcome. Nevertheless, I held up to both this and my walking strategy. About two hours into the drift I was completely dissatisfied with all of my field recordings. To me, there was nothing special about them. It was the same old cars passing by or birds chirping in a tree track after track. But, I still trekked on and wouldn’t you know it, but about 3 hours in I ventured into a treasure cove bountiful with rich and dynamic ambience. Not until that very moment had I captured a single worth-listening to sound. My mood completely changed, overwhelmed with the possibilities before me. I was so caught up in the process that by the time I glanced at my watch to see how much time I had left, I was well over the suggested four hours by nearly two hours. I don’t know how exactly to explain how or what had happened, but I can say that pushing me out of my “comfort zone” was not all what had really happened. I don’t know what zone or state of being I am in right now, but back then, when I got caught up in the moment, that was my comfort zone.
The stress and resilience I endure during this experience, I would say stemmed from the particular walking strategy I chose. Basically, at every street corner I would choose at random a coin from my pocket that I marked with an action. I actually thought it was quite clever and creative, but I quickly thought otherwise. From only a few minutes into the drift and even until the very last, I was plagued by the left turn. Committed to the strategy as I was, only to disprove that this method of walking was completely asinine, I soon found myself to be the ass for judging an experience before actually experiencing its some how mystical effects.
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