I got to leave a day early, I was hoping to but had no expectation of doing it. I packed most of the stuff over the two nights prior, food, clothes, house items. I didn’t give it much thought, I just packed, guessing the weather to bring the right clothes. Oddly I only wear a handful of things so I basically brought the same stuff I wear on any other summer day while camping. The food was the same way, not much thought at all into what to buy, there is a traditional staple of foods I eat in the house and camping. If you were to look at my clothes and food intake for a year or even 6 months, you would see a repetitive simpleness to it. Maybe that’s how it is with most and I am no different. I would actually prefer a simpler way, something with less thought and attachment and desire. I’ve been known to eat at the same establishment quite often and buy the same clothes in the same colors, it simplifies my life for me.
I had worked earlier in the morning prior to leaving, went by this job site, went by that job site, picked up product, talked to my employee. I got back to the apartment around 9 and started loading up the last bit of goodies, computer, books, headphones and so on, still not thinking much of anything. My main consciousness was not in the moment by any means (something of which I try to be) but a part of me was, that inner part that is always present yet silent. The part of you that is intuitive, in lockstep with everything that is happening in and around you. I knew it was cuz sadness started to peak its head from around some corners. I kept thinking I need to stop and write, I need to look at this and sit with it, but I kept packing, not wanting to feel it. It stuck with me for an hour or so, popping in and out of the moment.
I knew what it was, I know why it was there, here, in the molecules of my life. It’s sadness over a breakup, and even as I say that right now, acknowledging it, the feelings of yesterday morning comes back. The quiet solemness of the reality, the remembering of what was and no longer is. I cannot keep a woman to save my life and she was one I would of liked to keep. It was simple in the beginning, I felt free and as if I could be exactly who I was at any given moment and she would just let me be. I had no concern of doing wrong or even doing right, none of that crossed my mind. But as the months went on she changed and I changed, we went through some heavy stuff and came out the other side different from who we were. You would hope it wouldn’t be that way, that you would bond with your person in times of trouble, but that did not happen. I started making somewhat of a life plan with her, unbeknownst to her. I was making it in my head, playing with ideas, dreaming of possibilities and now it is all no more.
I guess these are some of the results when it comes to attachment and desire, when it changes, you are left with a feeling of loss and sadness. The first few months in had it not worked out I would been ok with it, not nearly as sad, and that’s not for the fact that I didn’t love her but that it was an unconditional love, a love that was deeper and truer then any dreamy attachment love. We so easily lose ourselves in other people or desirable objects, our idea that if we had something or more of what we have, our happiness would somehow increase. “I’m so much happier that I get to come home to you today, you are mine and we live together and I want you every day.” Then comes the day they do not come home and we say, “Where are you, how come you are not here, I am here waiting for you, don’t you know how much I love you?”
It’s not that we shouldn’t move in with someone, but it’s our attachment to them or our attachment to the life we are leading with them is what should not be, but how is that done? How do we love someone and enjoy them and the life we are living together and not form an attachment or desire more. In writing that part if the last sentence, “the life we are living together” I was going to write “building together.” Living together, building together. Some might not see any difference at all, but there is a difference, many differences actually.
Building together makes a unit, a team, “This is ours, we built this.” Living together is, “This is your life and this is my life and we meet in the middle.” One based in ego and attachment, the other based in selflessness and un-attachment. Some might feel that the first is a true relationship and the latter is less personal and loving and more of a co-existence. But which of the two holds unconditional love more than the other? Which of the two seems more open and selfless? Which of the two would bring less pain and sadness when it changes? And changes don’t necessarily mean end, changes happen in many ways. “I love you and desire you like this _______, but now you have grown and changed and you are no longer ______ and I do not like it.” “Why do you feel that way towards that person, you shouldn’t, you should feel like this.” “Your hair was so pretty, why did you cut it?” Our ego is constantly attaching us to so many bits and pieces of our lives and we don’t even know it’s happening.
We so often think what we have is ours and we deserve all we want, living miles outside the moment and constantly looking for the next thing to make us happy, to fill our void. It’s tiresome is it not, it’s painful, the feeling of the loss to our attachments. We were supposed to go on this camping trip together, it would have been our third time out in the van. I was looking forward to it like anybody would and as I packed the tiny bits yesterday morning the feelings came in, the remembering that she was supposed to be here with me and then the sadness followed. I think it’s common to be sad over such a thing, some would call it a normal reaction. You stub your toe you screech; you lose the rent money you worry, you pack for a vacation after a breakup and your sad. But how do you feel it and let it go, how do you not let this fully absorb your life and learn new way for the next time to feel less sadness, less fear. How do we be in the good feeling, the moment and not attach ourselves to it and the outcomes we are secretly dreaming about.
I use meditation. Nothing has taught me more about living in the moment than meditation. Taught me more about selflessness and kindness and compassion and freedom. The reason I am not at home losing weight and dreaming of what was is not because I didn’t love her or that I don’t miss her. This was the first time in 6 years where I truly loved someone on a level that gave me nothing but pure happiness to be in their presence. I’ve fallen for others, like a brick in a balloon shop, but this one was different. I loved her in a way that didn’t hold the same attachment as the others, this was more unconditional and freer. I can’t say I achieved this solely through meditation, but I can say that I have been working perilously at letting go of ego and what I think I own. Like my a sponsor once told me, “Everything I have is on loan to me from God.” A statement of which I fall back on in times of loss.
~
It’s now the morning of day 4, the last few days have been spent with friends, swimming in frigid rivers and under waterfalls. I had no idea how many rivers ran up here and how gorgeous the falls are, how blue the water is. It’s been nice to spend time with them, I also hadn’t seen Mandy in a couple years, she was kind enough to show us around up here being that she lives here. She is a good friend and one of the sweetest people I know, some people just have that type of heart and you can feel it coming from them.
I left yesterday morning on a mission to fix my fridge and ended the day with a drive through Lassen Volcanic National Park. Hiked the Bumpass Hell trail and spent the night off a dirt road along the highway 89. The park was not as epic as I thought it might be but still cool to visit, the hot springs reminded me of Yellowstone, Yellowstone being a bit more epic. The Bumpass hike was at 8500 feet, 3 miles round trip and I would be remiss to say I was not breathing a bit hard come the hike out of the hot springs. And no it was not the type of hot spring you would dip in, it was boiling hot and would most likely give you 3rd degree burns or pull your skin off. Haven’t been thinking much since the time I spent doing so on the morning I left. I can’t say it’s been due to distraction, being I’ve not been distracted for 24 hours now and have not been thinking, just reminiscing on other trips.
I have thought of work, I have thought of my daughter and my sister, and I am still working on the courage to do what’s in my heart and not in my head. The conflict is great because I let it be great, because I make it great. I turn molehills into mountains through fear and codependency. I obsess and plot and plan, manipulate myself and come back to the same spot time and again. I admire the ones who are fearless and have great courage, with enough sense to be selfish when needed. I wonder what it’s like to know your purpose in life, to know where you’re supposed to be and how you are supposed to be living. To be that connected to your life, your happiness. I swear I should be a monk ina monastery somewhere, it’s been the only thing I’ve ever understood and that has brought me some sense of peace. Well besides raising my daughter, that has brought me more peace and happiness than should be allowed.
Raising Delaiah gave me purpose and being a part of NA gave me purpose. Now that Delaiah is raised and on her own, now that NA is no longer in me as it was at one time, I feel I’ve no purpose, completely untethered and I am tired of writing about it, thinking about it and living it. Maybe that is why I focus so hard on un-attachment and living in the moment cuz sitting and thinking about my life is troublesome to me. It would be nice to have my life make more sense, to know my role in the world. Maybe it’s my lack of acceptance and I am meant to paint houses and spend most my time at work and in my apartment getting old, fat and gray. Maybe it’s the ones that accept circumstances that are slowly dying and maybe I don’t want to die just yet.
I think of some of the people I know who are not ina relationship, the ones who do the 9 to 5, the ones that drink and smoke weed. It seems to help the doldrums of life, the intoxicationing, I know it would help me. I would just drink and smoke my life away, every time time didn’t feel right, every moment I felt alone or lost or bored or purposeless, I would drink and use. Yet there is no softening of the edges for me, no avoiding the present moment.
I am now sitting here at Medicine Lake, there are about 80 spots in the campground and there is only one other camper. I know this not cuz I have seen them, I’ve only seen their site, their murky green Kia Soul and their orange and yellow North face tent. My sliding door is open and I am about 30 yards from the lake. It’s a beautiful sight, tall pine trees, semi-large lava rocks dotting the shoreline, a warm breeze blowing, swooshing about my floppy screen door. I spent most of the day driving leaving (I’m trying to remember where I was this morning) my spot just outside Lassen and heading over to Lake Almanor to ride. I got to ride a paved trail that ran along the lake, through tall trees and campsites. I got to shower out of the back of the van, being that last night’s sleep was pretty sticky and I didn’t really care to relive that tonight.
I headed north, then east, then north, then northeast and finally made it here. I fought with the map on my phone most of the day, not really wanting to go it’s rout but the rout I mapped in the atlas. Why I just didn’t use the atlas I’ve no idea, maybe cuz then I would have to pay attention to road signs and I’ve grown so accustomed to having Siri tell me when to turn. The only way to really travel is to use a real smart map of the state you’re in. The atlas is cool and all but it only has major roads and some semi used ones, maybe a few alternate routes but none of the good roads, the ones no travelers go down. These roads are my favorite, the small towns you run across, the abstract lawn art you see, the sweet little houses lining sidewalkless streets, the huge meadows lined with pines as cows graze their days away.
Traveling alone like this is full of ups and downs, you really get to know yourself and see how addicted you are to things in your life that take up your time. The mind is hard to train to sit still and be silent, to be empty. God knows mine is far from it. I do know that it takes a minute to get into the groove of being alone out here. I rush so much to get stuff done at home cuz there life has time constraints, then coming out here where time doesn’t really matter it’s quite the shock. You almost need to move slower to take up more time with the things you are doing cuz there are only so many things to do while living out a your van by yourself. You start to be more precise with cooking and cleaning, watching birds fly and dragonflies dart about on the edge of the water, bouncing from lava rock to lava rock. Sometimes I watch the shadows of trees to see how they move across the landscape. Living a simple life is harder work than you think.
~
Diamond Lake in Oregon is amazing. Deep blue waters, the entire lake surrounded by tall pines, a mountain to the west covered in snow. The sky bright blue, cotton ball clouds with wispy ends that seem so close you could reach out and grab them. The grasses 10 different shades of green and the air sweet. All the campsites here are set up like little homesteads, they move in to these spots with all their essentials like they were frontiersman settling in for the summer. It’s perfect, almost perfect.
I don’t think perfect exists and if it did, I have never met it and care not to. I could say this cookie is perfect or this woman is perfect but that is limiting to being open. Once I find perfection nothing will ever match up and everything will always be judged against it. There’s no guarantee that the next bite of the cookie will be as good and knowing perfection I will want it again and the next you know I’m down at the store buying up all the boxes of Chips Ahoy to find perfection once again. Or maybe she leaves, my perfect woman and I’m left feeling that sadness and possibly never be content again, always missing what I thought was perfect. Searching for perfection takes away from all the experiences, dims the light on the brilliance of life and all the gifts we are giving. Our ego doesn’t want us to settle, we want what we want, our idea of perfect, what we think is the best for us. Maybe that doesn’t exist for anyone, maybe it does and I am the fool accepting things in life I need not.
Now out of the philostophy and back to my day. I went on a bike ride, then took a shower, noticed the clouds in the sky while peeing in the woods. It’s 6:20 in the evening and I’m sitting in my camp chair, shirt off, eating veggies and dip, sipping on some high-end seltzer water. When I pulled up here, I was a bit out of sorts, the drive was long and I had been up since 5:30. I hiked around at the Lava Beds National Monument this morning, pretty spectacular. The caves were so deep and cold and the texture on the walls could never be recreated.
And talk about pitch black, it’s like you are in a closet with your eyes are closed. one of the openings to a cave was so huge you could fit a 5 story building in it, it was like something out if a sci-fi movie. I hiked out to Painted Cave thinking the cave paintings would be on walls above ground, I was sorely mistaken and I didn’t bring a flashlight. Why someone want to do cave paintings so deep underground and with the entrance barely big enough to slide though?
Tomorrow is Crater Lake, the pinacol of the trip, after I hike around there I’ll start to make my way back home. Not sure what rout I’ll take, driving the 5 up here was horrible, stupid hot is an understatement. I am thinking I might head over to Grants Pass to take the 101 home, the redwood forests of Northern California are beautiful. For tonight though it’s cheeseburgers, smashed tatters and green beans, followed by some M&M’s or maybe some cookies. I am so lucky to be here, in this head space, this free from self. I’ve this van I built, money in my pocket, food in the fridge, a phone, a computer, all my appendages, relatively good health and I’m not obsessed on my life and what I’m doing or where I’m going or whether or not I am doing the right thing or if I’m happy. Happiness comes when I surrender, find acceptance and be in the moment, no matter what moment it is. Everything is going to be ok, no matter what happens.
It’s now 2 hours later, after a mental breakdown. I think I need medication lol. The domino effect always gets me. One thing doesn’t go as planned, then another, then another and next thing you know you’re ready to throw in the towel on the whole thing. The highs and lows are insane at times, I so often wonder if anyone else is as unstable as I am. Up, down, up, down, up, down! It’s tiring, so fucking tiring. Really what the fuck is wrong with me? I press myself so hard into the spiritual journey, trying to live every moment of my life with love and compassion, with acceptance, unattached to everything around me. Most days I do fairly well, I have patients, tolerance, love and kindness to share. I am happy, content in so many areas of my life, but when the hammer falls it’s more like an anvil from 40 stories up.
Being out here and experiencing what I did over the last 4 hours reminded me of what it’s like to live on the road by myself. The ups and downs of the days, not knowing where you’re going to sleep, what’s around the next corner, is the van going to breakdown, when will you have cell service to hear someone else’s voice cuz yours is killing you. And yet I go out here and do this, live alone for a week here, a week there and work towards doing it full-time, talk about volunteering for insanity.
All I can say I survived another day. Its 8:10 and close to bedtime. I’ll pick up a book, most likely one on Buddhism, throw on my .05 readers, sip on some mint tea and read myself to sleep. I can rest easy knowing it’s all going to be different tomorrow, maybe not better, maybe not worse, but definitely different. That’s the beauty of life and not clinging to things, everything is always changing and so long as I let go and let the change happen, everything will eventually be ok or better said, what I think is ok. I mean everything is ok now, it’s just sometimes I need it to be my way for me to see everything as ok. I am still battling the idea of self and that I exist. If I could only get onboard with the concept that ‘I’ does not exist, life would be much easier. Like “I am ok” as opposed to “everything is ok.” If I say everything is ok then by proxy I am ok, but when I go with I am ok that means self has an agenda, has to have something a certain way, my way. I refuse to be content until I feel everything is ok for me, why cant everything be ok as it is? I has always been my problem and the need to fill it’s desires has been a thorn in my side since I can remember.
I think back to the first time I stole something; I was 5 or 6 and I stole a car or action figure from Oliver. We were playing in his attic playroom, which from what I can remember was awesome and I had to have the toy so I took it. I remember the first time I got in trouble for fighting, I was around the same age, Matt who lived down the street from me said something and I hit him. I can’t remember that first time I lied, there was a lot of that growing up in the environment I grew up in. None the less behind it all was ego, i.e. selfishness, I was behind it all. My desire for more, for better, for vindication, for money, for sex – for all the things my selfish ass wanted and was always willing to do whatever was needed to get it. I has always been my problem. But if I would of just surrendered and accepted life as it was, not swerved to hit all the victims in my life, been ok with what was or maneuvering my life ina way to change my circumstances instead of manipulating and hustling. Or if I would have just accepted that everything isn’t for me and being uncomfortable was ok, maybe life would have been sweet, softer, less chaotic.
I was born that way ya know, we were all born that way. Only needing the basic necessities and nothing more. I strayed from that for 2/3’s of my life, maybe that is why it’s so grueling to get back there, to the comfort of only having basic necessities, being ok with anything that happens cuz I has been brought back down to earth.
~
Northern California has its own scent to it, whenever I pass through here the smell of the atmosphere brings back memories from other trips. It’s indescribable, it’s not of trees or wet dirt, nor moss or marijuana either. I don’t know what it is, but it’s a comforting smell. Stepping out the van this morning into it was nice and the vibrant greens from the trees, ferns and miscellaneous bushes I know not the names of just adds to the splendor.
Last night’s dinner isn’t sitting right in my gut this morning and my coffee is weak, say la vee. I got here in the evening yesterday, drove the 199 from Grants Pass, some of the sections of this road are breathtaking. Many years back a few friends and I rode our motorcycles to Oregon and we took this road. Having stayed the night before at the beginning of this road, it starts right around where that huge Paul Bunion and Blue statue are, right at Crescent City. This road on a motorcycle is fun, drove it another time after a rain, with the asphalt black as night and the yellow lines so clean and fresh, then with all the different greens along the road and draping down from the trees, this is one of my favorite roads of all time.
I wasn’t sure of going this route home, wanting one more day in the waters of the Mount Shasta, yet it’s supposed to be 100+ for the next few days along the 5 and, well, fuck that. Especially after spending that time up at Diamond Lake and Crater Lake where the weather was a nice 85 degrees. The trip home is never as much fun, thoughts of my daily life start to creep back in, then compound that with 100 degree weather, I’m good. So along the 101 I go, slower yet seriously prettier and much cooler. And now for Crater Lake…
At first sight it was meh, big lake in the top of a collapsed volcano, I thought the pumice field leading in from the north was much more interesting. The field looked like the what you would think is the floor of Mars, although now that we have seen the floor of Mars I can’t really say that… It was a field of crushed red, brown and black lava rock, crushed so fine that no rock seemed bigger than a pea at best and most where the size of BB’s. Lonely trees dotted the landscape, not many at all for the size of the field and in the distance you could see a snow-capped mountain sloping down to meet the forest. I kept going back to this sight in my head as I drove around the crater, prior to my hikes.
My first hike was up Garfield Peak, I was hoping for Watchman or Mount Scott but one was closed due to snow and the other closed due to snow. Who knew there would be this much snow in late June. I did find that reading more about what I go to do prior to doing it or even reading the signs that sit in front of these sights is helpful. I’m always so busy to get to where I want to go I miss out on things along the way. Anyways, the top portion of Garfield Peak was closed, due to snow but I made it pretty far. The further I hiked up the trail the more immense the lake became. I don’t know if it was from the angle of the sun or the fact that I could see it from above, but I could really see the features of it. The lake was oddly still, flat and smooth like glass so the reflection was intense. You could pick out the tiniest details on the reflection as well as you could on the object itself. The deep blue color (it was once named Deep Blue lake, I read something) in the middle, the crystal blue to emerald green at spots along the shore. The trees growing down the south side of the crater to the water’s edge, the snow still sitting one some of the crater walls. It was amazing and well worth the hike up to see it.
I took on 2 other hikes after that, Castle something or other – it was supposed to have some meadows and wildflowers bursting with color, I saw 3 different flowers. The ground was almost marsh like it was so wet, with tiny steams running from atop the mountainside and a nice babbling brook flowing down the middle of the hikes loop. It was quick and done before I knew it, I did however talk a woman who had her 3 boys with her. We chatted about cameras and Go Pros, it was nice to talk with someone, that is something that is missed traveling alone, that face to face contact. I tried to either smile or say hi to everyone I passed on the Garfield Peak trail but no one had much to say, let alone a hello. They just marched like ants, staring at the ground to avoid any interaction. I did catch a couple people to talk to, either me asking how far to the top – not really caring just looking to make conversation or them asking me, how much further to the top. It was 3 miles round trip, not that bad of a hike at 8000 feet.
The final hike was Annie’s Creek at the south entrance to the park. I hiked down this gorge and along a steam, it was pretty, hiking up to get out of the gorge was tough, it was steep. Being on a bum knee I did alright, being I haven’t exercised in what seems like forever cuz the bum knee my lungs fared quite well. I’ll tell ya on the first hike I had 2 couples a ways in front of me, one in their early 20’s, the other in their mid 30’s. I passed them both, passed the one in their 20’s as the guy was tapping out. It fed my little ego, “I’m close to 47 and broke down and look at me pass these young folks.” Then I happened upon a woman in her 60’s coming down from the top, just after that saw a man of relatively the same age trail running and thank god I did, I’ve no need for feeling special, I am not. I care not to be and actually no one really is. Just think if we all saw one another on the same level and thought no different of anyone due to money or strength or power or gender, like no one is any different than anyone else. When I was a child my mother would tell me I was special and it would upset me every time, even then I knew I was not, that no one really was.
(I mean maybe you have a talent that is unique or rare, but does that make you special? Why must we all be so different from one another, the whole “This is me, this is who I am” deal. Some folks seem to want to be so unique and different to separate themselves from the crowd that they are actually conforming into what everyone who wants to be different is. What is it with individuality that makes us try to be special or unique? It’s an odd ego crisis of sorts. What if we all wore the same clothes, what then?)
Now that I’m at the south end of the lake and the hiking is done for the day it’s time for me to leave. I head down hwy 62, which is now my second favorite road to drive, it’s possible the more I think of that road that it might take the number one spot. A highway that stretches for countless miles lined with some of the prettiest trees, the way they grow over the road and shade it so daintily, like a doily covering the ground. Off to Gold Hill I head where my parents moved us for a short time back in 1976 and then to here, to Patrick Creek campground. It was a good day, a day that makes you want to live this life full-time, just without canned chili and hotdogs for dinner.
~
I know. I know, I know. I don’t have campfires. I made an exception for tonight; I made a lot of exceptions for tonight. I got a $35 campsite and $10 bundle of wood. But I’m on the Avenue of the Redwoods and getting a spot here doesn’t come easy. Granted it’s not the super dope spot in the middle of the redwoods, that place was all filled up and for good reason. That campground (C.G. as I come to find that’s how the pros refer to it) was like a movie set, as picture perfect as it was. The giant redwood trees obscuring the sky just enough to only let in some blue, the sun peeking through the canopy here and there with just the proper amount of sun to leave a golden hew in the air. I will definitely be making reservations to camp there at some point this year.
This spot I’m at is south of there a few miles, not as picture perfect but still beautiful in its own right. I’m nearing the end of my trip so I figured I might as well live it up some, hence the expensive site and firewood. I’ve got turkey burgers for dinner and I’m even going to cook them over the fire. This would be the ultra-American experience had I bought ground beef and had some Jack Daniels and Coors. Although nowadays I think it’s weed and PBR. The mosquitos are out in full force this evening, I guess it’s all part of the experience. I try not to kill anything, but I’ve been smashing the daylights out'a these little blood suckers. I’ve gone as far as to put out a citronella candle, some citronella incense and cover my ghostly white skin in Off bug spray. It’s not working, so is life.
I’ve come to find that van life and camping do not cointermingle as well as you think they would. Camping is setting up a spot to live at for a couple days to a week, like the folks up at Diamond Lake. Van life is more of a home on wheels and doesn’t come with the same camping gear. It’s not often you see someone bring their house outside into their yard to live and it’s the same with a van in a C.G. It’s doable and I am kinda doing it, just seems a bit cluster fuckish. Van life works best dispersed camping, where you live out of your van and not next to it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have luck finding a spot on some BLM land in the mountains along the 101, probly won’t happen but one could hope.
I can tell you I’ve the heading home blues right now, most times when I get this close to the house (8ish hours away) I head straight home. No point in avoiding the inevitable, just rip the Band-Aid off, rub some dirt on it and get back at it. Charge headfirst into it without thinking, go to work, pay the bills, chase down the monies, set up the next job, please this person and that person, go to a meeting, better go to 2, visit your folks, check on your sister, do the laundry, food shop – the list just goes on and on and I am truly lucky to have all that in my life. As disgruntled as I would like to be about it all, I’m fortunate to say the least. All this could disappear within a matter of a few bad choices or life circumstances, I will try my best to enjoy it while I have it. All I have is a gift from god and it has placed it in my care for the time being, I should treat it all as such.
~
And now I am home, 9 days and 1924 miles later. This was not so much a vacation of rest and relaxation as it was a journey. Let’s be honest, everything I do is a journey. Going to work, riding my bike, hitting a meeting, conversations – it’s about the getting there and not so much about getting to the end. Although arriving at Crater Lake and hiking that ridge was defiantly epic, I’m looking forward to hiking the Grand Canyon in the next couple months. It will be insanely hot in September there but I’ve dealt with heat before. Maybe I can even get a pass to stay the night at the bottom, anything is possible.
But for now I am back home, back in the apartment with the tv on and napping on the couch, how unappealing it is to my soul. It’s like I walked back into a bad movie after getting Red Vines and a Coke from the concession stand; I’m feeling at peace from the trip, yet feeling incomplete as I sit here. I don’t know if I will ever be at rest inside, I think I will forever be unsettled and looking for something inside through an arduous trial on the outside. I constantly think of how steel is forged, through repetitive heat and beatings. How it comes out stronger and stoic like, still and secure. I wish that for myself, I constantly search it out. Through books, meetings, friends, physical exertion, never really resting on any one view, idea or momentary perception.
On this trip I came to find that I am not as Buddhist as I think I am, so that means I am killing it as a part-time Buddhist. I’m not as kind or open as I thought I was either, there is always room for improvement. I’ve found that my trust in God is not as great as it should be. The potential for change and growth is quite vast, beautiful like all the meadows I saw. Have I told you how I’m a fool for a good meadow? I’m a sucker for them, I think I could sit all day watching one, dreaming of living in it, my little house, with tiny stable for a beautiful paint or mustang. Maybe a creek near by that I could drip my feet in on hot summer days. Maybe come winter it would snow and a fluffy white heaven would sit upon all the branches of the tall pines. I wish not for much and wish not for this, but if I was to have to paint a picture of my home it would look as so.
Come August I am leaving again, it will be for much longer than 9 days, 30 or 60 days is my guess. I’ll take the long way to my sisters, spend time with her and her family. My sister and I were never super close in our teenage years or our early 20’s. I do remember being a little guy, well below 10 and her taking care of me, protecting me when I was scared and danger was afoot. Our childhood was scary at times, being raised by alcoholic drug addicts. Over the last 20 years though we’ve grown closer, especially over the last 10, I’m lucky to have had her in my life, I definitely got the better end of this deal for sure. So until then I’ll paint houses, go to meetings, try not to be selfish or live in the character defects that make up my disease.
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