The Fear of Living

The water of the mighty Animas rolls,
Beneath your feet it beckons,
Do you hear it?

The snow upon the peaks entices,
Above the gaze of the device in your hand,
Do you see them?

The rain tears from the sad-seeping sky,
Upon your exposed skin it sits aplomb,
Do you feel its vitality?

* * *

The ear buds lift and veil,
Our hearing,
Disportionately displaced.

The smart device commands,
Pinching us to the dubious reality at hand,
Heed its call.

Fear,

Of missing out, open high places, pain and peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth;
Of microbes and bacteria, bees, trees, wild animals and darkness;

Of staying single, being alone or by oneself and marriage;

Fire, water, asymmetrical things, flutes, failure, and being dirty; 

Chins, knees, having, seeing or thinking about an erect penis, women, men and nudity;

Imperfections, French Culture, toads, plants, slime, books and writing; 

Sitting, walking, bicycles, planes, and heights;

Of freedom! and knowledge!;

The fear of living - biophobia,
Lurking under it all?

* * *

The glass enveloping and surrounding spiders then shatters,
You drop down into a contrastive space (have I been here before?),
Breath comes rushing in - an inundating inhale.

This is now your life;

There above was your previous perception:
Tuned-in to the disarray of the artificial,
Dropped-out of the natural actuality.

Basic meets elementary's most simplest,
Living free of fear,
In the clear - al la naturale.

Bon appetit.

Eyes leading towards the inside

Her eyes, piercing blues in the pallor of the world around at this moment, peering back at me over a bowl of steaming hot mussels in a French restaurant, what is behind them? It is hard for me to not lock myself into this invisible spiral, leading me deeper into a siege of stares. Though, is it I who is diving deeper into myself by refusing to look away? I blink, and cast my glance to the side, as to use the waitress across the room as an easy escape, a mustering point from which I can again re-engage a level gaze into those eyes. What really pulls my sight aside?

Fear in the depths, the innards of ourselves. Seeing myself and my actions through my mind's eye judgement eases in, as if invited and welcomed at the door by some unseen other not me. I am angry with myself today in certain moments, but why?

In this, the same following day, the heady, deciding nature continues as I speak with my parents on the phone. During the midst of an off-topic conversations about chickens, I come to my breaking point. The conversation hurriedly ended by me with an 'I love you, have a good week.' What am I struggling to paw at?

The thought of mystic eyes come back to me, specifically a female's eyes. Not just any pair, though the blues of last evening. How, much like the clear, splitter, Colorado blue sky today, my recollection awakens to remember the iris-to-iris contact interred inside my memory. How long now have I looked into a pair of eyes opposite mine and wondered? How long again until I see eyes that capture and pilfer the breath, like a star witnessed falling in the night sky? Too long I presume.

the intricate and other worldly

Presumptions, those truly unknowing attempts at protecting the uninvited guest that slipped in when I was not looking. The protector of the other part of me - the "I," my Ego, as much a part of me as the hands and fingers which type this drivel scribble. Though, is it truly foolish ramblings emanating from within my mind?

Questions, the strong-handed foe across the table - no matter the size - always tabulating the score to be in their favor over the seemingly weaker and meak-er camp of answers. And, what would answers actually provide? Proof that the calculations are negotiable down to the letter, though not in favor of a digestible outcome I want to partake of in that moment of life.

What centers me? What draws me from the figurative preface of an edge? And, should I draw back from this edge, or lean-in, trusting that behind it is something deeper, closer to the nerve, the nebulous in which it was born. For how long have I been carrying this; the undetectable-till-now passenger present in my life - even if that is of subtleties' discernment and measurement?

This burst, my reality as I perceive it, for how many days now have I been waiting to push off the cover of the surface membrane holding it in?

The breathe retreats out, from an area of higher pressure inside to the lower pressure presence outside my physical bodily cavities. While my mind creates so much - perceiving, predicting, and presuming - what am I actually doing to move forward? To live more in the moment?

And what of my gratitudes for the day that I have had another opportunity at participating in? Underneath a centering breath, releasing of the tension paid out by my mind, I retrieve it. My undying suredness of certainty that the rigorous rhythm maker and center of love always abounding, that is the heart residing in my center, will never mislead me and only becomes clouded in choice by the creative delusions of a mind searching.

Thank you for this spiral of a journey, never too far from the reality flowing alongside on a parallel course. My role in learning I do appreciate.

Alan

Pretending: a game in life?

I step out into the parking lot of a wet, autumn Colorado morning, the truck slows with practiced reactionary haste; I look dumbfounded in the direction of the driver, hidden behind their rain-covered windshield.

'Boy, I feel out of place.'

Stepping back, out of the way of the truck's path, I wonder, 'what is this place?' Am I just pretending that this is real?

Back in society - the world of clocks and toilets; I feel skittish around this curiosity. There are so many options, so many opportunities in ones' singular day! Sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, back and side to a wall, with all the people in easy view of me. I feel trusting here - it's not like I'm a giraffe in the human world, it is, rather, I experience heavy dosages of nature - the wild Wilds - seeing fresh bear scat, still warm to the touch, elk bugles in the chilly early morning of the high country, and yipping, playful choruses of coyotes a few hundred yards from my tarp shelter while sleeping at night. That is my existence more and more. In this, I feel I've become the part time, versed-and-committed-to-dirtbagging member of society that I am; though, am I just pretending to belong here?

Sitting in the pilot seat of Freedom's cockpit, the 1991 Toyota van I drive, aged to a fine state of operational quirks, wearing a well-worn pair of jeans that haven't seen the inside of a washer since this past spring, I realize the distances I could travel; the power I have at my finger and foot-tips to transport me to faraway lands in this free country. Though, I feel confused - conflicted on where I should I go with my day. This other part of me, interred inside my loving existence, not confused by all that appears and occurs on and within the outside world, knows. This, the voice of intuition, knows much more than conscious, stream-of-mind me. Pausing, long enough to let my attentive mind settle its expressive metronome of processing, down into my existence, I feel confident in where I should go and do. The pretending seems less a fabrication and more a genuine action; as if there is no facade to keep fabricating. Sensible, graspable completeness.

I think I know, or at least I can understand it from my own perspective, why people struggle or feel conflicted - perhaps even paranoid or unstable - in this commonwealth marvel of gizmos, do-dads, and ingenuity of human achievement. The young college ladies entering the coffee shop on a cool, rainy Wednesday morning seem dressed more suggestively than the weather outside advises; even a few of the working professional women, too. Again, it all makes sense! I understand more and more why the students I work with in Wilderness Therapy have issues - our society is a smorgasbord of inundating conveniences and gratuitous freedoms. Too much so for some; perhaps too much for all of us? Are we all really pretending to be alright with this; and, do we even know what this really is?

I hear the cynic in me, my inner critic - this thought pattern that used to tell me I was not a worthy, lovable person in my darkest times a few years back. I see it in my writing, my reflection. From this darkness, though, I seek to find the silver lining of love embedded. Pretending, the act of portraying something that just not is, seems to be our modus operandi; well, I'll speak for myself - I sometimes pretend. While attending a small venue folk music performance the other night, the singer commented about pretending not to come back out for an encore, and why he was even bothering pretending with us, the audience. I was struck by this: how do I pretend in life? Do I hide behind my chosen dirtbag lifestyle, settling into a comfort zone; and, do I differentiate myself from the status quo - as to alienate myself from a society that seems quirky to me?

I feel honest, open, and forthcoming. The more time I spend back in what is normal to many, the more this whizzing phenomenon known as society illustrates to me its stunning portrayal of human achievement - so much to be proud of! And, in our defined sense to individualize ourselves from the other species of this planet, how can we, too, come to incorporate en masse the natural world? That brimming, complicated, constantly shifting, paradoxical anomaly of simplistic beauty that will supercede and outlast our species, as it has all that have become before us.

Sitting here, tuning into my senses long enough to notice the subtle changing color of the leaves on the trees outside, I am unsure of an answer. And, I don't feel inclined to think of an answer, at least at this time. I suppose when the time is right, it will happen; or will it?

This pretending game makes more sense - I, as a conscious player, am even unaware; deployed and dropped-in to the immediate world around me: sense satiated, finely fed, and largely loved. I am grateful for this and feel resolved in my written expression.

Thank you again.
Striving in Love,
Alan

29 Years: A chance to appreciate others!

This past Sunday, July 21st, I moved one year closer to that mark which many twenty-some year olds dread: 30. With one year to go, I feel quite excited to break the physical age barrier of 30, as if in doing so I am continuing my journey in wisdom, with love and intuition, and many of the people below, as my guides - presently or past imparted.

To celebrate this year, the day my mother brought me into this world, I opted to do a birthday challenge of a different sort (see last year's challenge: here). This year, since I was working an 8 day shift in the field as a wilderness therapy guide for Open Sky, I decided to celebrate 29 influential people in my life. These people - plus a bonus list of people that I felt disinclined to pass up - offered me a considerable amount, nearly immeasurable, in my younger developmental years - often mentoring me before I knew what that word meant.

To celebrate those people, I have tried to create a list that is not exhaustive, but reflective for me, as to allow a bit of what shimmers about them to shine! In no particular order, as follows:

1) Mom - where would a son be without a loving mother? Lost is what I imagine. From firm boundaries and abounding love as a child, I have grown to know love as a key and solid foundation in my life. You offer more than what a paragraph can truly capture - perhaps a book's worth! Thank you Mother for you! I love you.

2) Dad - always a supporter, you Dad, were the primary reason all my needs were met as a child. Your tireless work in your professional life supported a growing family. And, never can forget the cherished memories of going to watch the Pitt Panthers play at old Pitt Stadium in Oakland. Furthermore, I'm also quite appreciative for the support and wisdom you impart in subtle doses these days. Thank you Dad, I love you.

3) Erica & Ev - my oldest sister and profound influence as the pioneer of the siblings. You and Ev are always welcoming me into your home with your lovely children as I travel back and forth across the country from West to East and back; expecting nothing in return, except the love that flows easily. Ev: forgiving and accepting, even after I, in my immature youthfulness, obliterated your knee tendons and hopes towards one day going tennis pro (never know!). Thank you Erica & Ev, I love you.

4) Stephanie & Rob - while growing up, we were opposite in many ways, but as I grew wiser and out of my dualistic ways, I began to see how your loving contrast could be beneficial to me in my developing mind and life. Rob: perhaps the sole reason I off-shot into the world of outdoor adventure and education. I have much to be thankful for in your big brother-type influence in my life. Thank you Stephanie and Rob, I love you.

5) Amy & Andy - my bestest buddy growing up, Amy you were an intimate source of information and guidance. I can still remember running over to your room to sleep in your bed during thunderstorms in the summer times so I was not alone and scared as a child. You were highly influential! Andy: a charismatic source of understanding and acceptance. I still remember one trip back from North Carolina with you and Amy before the boys were born; I was being an impatient and unsteadying back seat driver, but your tolerance - and practiced mindfulness - seemed to show no bounds. I appreciate your loving acceptance! Thank you Amy & Andy, I love you.

6) Grandparents - What would a young man be without wisdom to learn and glean from? From going to Grandpa Allen's farm in Bedford as a youngster, learning how and where milk came from, to what hard work could mean (and it's necessity to accomplish things worthwhile in life). Learning from Grandma Norma, what respect for boundaries was, and how polite manners furthered a young man in life. To visiting Grandma Carol and Grandpa Bob, first in New York, then eventually in North Carolina. Being showered with love, delicious food, and especially, as I ushered into young adulthood, sound advice and practice in debate and standing firm for what I believe! Thank you Allen & Norma Baker, Robert & Carol Danilin, I love you all.

7) Sid & Jean Blair - my in town grandparents; from Sid taking me into the outdoors to learn and experience the power of nature from a young age, fishing, hunting to learning how to drive and operate a car safely in my teenage years. Jean, a kind and gentle loving person who always seemed to have patience and time to listen, not to mention an understanding for a hungry adolescent boy. I feel so blessed to have been part of your lives; you were a source of budding growth. Thank you Sid & Jean, I love you!

8) Mary Jane & Jake Javornick - Jake the practical joker, rest in peace; always had a wit for humor and a glowing smile on his kind face. Was knowledgeable and able to demonstrate his happiness and contentedness in life. Mary Jane, a wonderful mother-like woman who had the needs of others, mainly unexpressed ones, on her mind. Lovingly engaging and quick to inquire how I was doing. Always was a treat to swing-by the house for a heart to heart chat. I love you both! Thank you.

9) Brad Hill - a loving source of spiritual challenge and exploration in my teenage years. Planting seeds of love and belief in his compassionate actions towards others. A man who celebrated his uniqueness and individuality. This trait about you Brad made it easier for me to learn to express myself as a unique person, too. I attribute my spiritual path back to belief that God is real to you, Brad, and your undying love for Him and others in life. Thank you Brad, I love you.

10) Scott Bair  - a strong man, with a deep respect for growth and spiritual exploration in life. Scott, I can remember your emotional vulnerability around myself and the other youth you worked with at Graystone, and the wisdom and patience you'd impart to me whilst employed as a masonry assistant for your company. While the stories are not entirely clear to my memory, the way in which you weren't afraid to share and express what was happening inside your genuine self, sometimes showing tears, is important to me as a man who desires to do the same around youth I work with. Thank you Scott, I love you man.

11) Al Gracian - a man who, like Scott, was highly demonstrative in showing me what hard work meant. Often, you, Al, would take the time and exhibit patience in my learning and growth to show me how something could optimally be accomplished while working as a landscaper for your company. You continue to bless my family, namely my Mother, with your warming, mustached smile. I appreciate you! Thank you, I love you.

12) Molly Adams - Miss Molly, you have been a unique opportunity for me to share what I've learned in life to this point. I appreciate your energy as you navigate the waters of young adulthood. Our conversations spur my own movement and growth in life and our friendship from the distance of East and West is inspiring! I am appreciative for you! Thank you, I love you Miss Molly.

13) Uncle Jay Baker - a firm man, set in his position in life, though an Uncle that offers sound advice, often contrasting to what I thought to do. I appreciate the difference of our opinions and point of view you offer to my life. Thank you Uncle Jay, I love you.

14) Dr. Andrew Shim - my first college mentor. I felt truly cared about and engaged in ways that I had yet to experience in my young college years. Andrew, you took me under your wing and saw that I was steeped in experiences that caused me to grow professionally and also personally; developing confidence and interpersonal skills in working with others in the Exercise Science field. I feel highly appreciative towards the mentorship you extended to me - attributing my success in my undergraduate studies to your care. Thank you Andrew.

15) Jeremiah Haas - a guy that became and remains one of my best friends. I knew from the get-go in an outdoor themed graduate school class that Jeremiah and I were two birds of a feather. Jeremiah, you are like an older brother to me; we've gone and will go outside adventuring and you taught me how to lead on trad gear, mentoring and nurturing my growth while caring for my safety. When not outside, we had deep conversations about life stuff - reflecting and supporting one another; I really appreciate you in my life Jerry. I love you man!

16) Nieces and Nephews - a constant source, when tuned-into of entertainment and happiness. I know you aren't old enough to read these words and grasp their intended depth, but I really appreciate the presence of you all (Elana, Elliot, Easton, Adelay, Foster, Atley, Astin, + new unborn baby) in my life. I love you!!!

17) Dr. Walter Kealey, Jr. - a man who has since left this earthly plane, but a man that taught me the value of doing the right thing, even when that was the hard way. I can remember as I was finishing 6th grade, Dr. Kealey, as our elementary school principal at East Pike, gave all the students dictionaries and wrote in the front cover a specialized note for us to take with us into the 7th grade/Jr. High School. I still have mine to this day, and while not having it directly to reference, it was to the extent of always taking the high road in life. An intense man with a lot of love and a knack for discipline, Dr. Kealey was inspiring to me. The way his presence demanded respect from children in the school, to me, is a way in which a young child can understand what it means to adore and look-up to an adult with caring and loving intentions. Walt, I can only speculate what life would have been had you still been alive longer into my teenage years, yet I'm so glad for the ways you were in my life! I love you Walt; rest in peace.

18) Joe Kretchman - Joe, you were another mentor and big brother to me in my young college years. After flailing in college my first year, I found hope and purpose in working and learning from what seemed like your every move at the fitness club. When not striving professionally to learn and grow as I began college again at IUP, you were a person who'd ask caring questions into the nature of my personal life, inquiring how I was doing; this felt especially important for me to be cared for in that post-motorcycle accident space. I was in at the age of almost 21 and it was a dark time for me. I appreciated your continual love and care Joe! You are a source of great happiness in my memories. Thank you Joe, I love you brother!

19) Dr. Scott Drum - my first post-college mentor and friend in Colorado. Scott and his soon-to-be wife at that time, Liz, felt like the sole reason I flourished in Gunnison my first few months. Scott, you had a zeal for your work in the HAP (High Altitude Performance) Lab with the college students at Western State. Your energy bubbled over onto me, and I, too, found myself channeling and expanding my passion - helping others to grow and learn. Just like a lot of my former mentors had done for me! I am appreciative for all the help you gave and care you showed - even taking me into your home my last month and a half in Gunnison before moving for graduate school in North Carolina. Thank you Scott, I love you man.

20) Dr. "Daisy" Waryold - Daisy, you kept me on task in graduate school. Mostly in the form of living in reality when sometimes I'd find myself in the ether, certainly unsure what I wanted to obtain in my time during graduate school at Appalachian State University. Your mentorship, often given in abridged dosages before or after class, or during office hours, was a necessary guide for me to extract what I needed in my time in Boone. I am appreciative for your care and guidance!

21) Dr. Cathy Clark - Cathy, you as well were a mentor, especially during the last semester of my graduate career. You saw the pieces of my potential and a need within the graduate program for a pre-summer teaching institute co-facilitator, aimed at teaching in the outdoors, and the fit was seemingly perfect! I felt quite natural in my role and I appreciated your vision, mentorship in channeling me into that experience, as well as the beneficial feedback you provided me afterwards - further spurring my desire to continue working and teaching youth in the outdoors. Thank you Cathy!

22) Adam Woodrow - mullet boy, an affectionate nickname Adam and I use on one another (stemming from his step sister's actual mullet as a young girl growing up); my longest, best friend. Though our paths cross more infrequently from when we both lived in Indiana, I still feel a strong and tight bond with you. I truly believe that our conversations around life-long friends 5 years ago applies. I see it going the distance man. I appreciate the contrasting viewpoints you have, and the love and care you have for others and me! You are a righteous man! Thanks buddy, I love you.

23) Benjamin Johnson - the big brother who came out of the woodwork! While working at Western State in Gunnison, I was struggling to meet people my age that weren't my students. Ben, while volunteering at a local trail running race, approached and introduced himself to me. He was so genuine and equally stoked to hear about who I was and what I did in town that I felt instantly that he was a special soul from the beginning. When I found out he worked at Western as well, our friendship took off like a rocketship. He was the reason I bought a full suspension mountain bike, the reason I furthered my passion in rock climbing; the person who lovingly encouraged me to take on challenges with less of my mind and more of my heart. A man, who while on a recruiting road trip with him in the Denver area, saw me for who I was acting - a flawed and judgemental mid-20-some-year-old - and separated my personhood from my actions by challenging me to look and love differently towards others in life. I felt your presence in my life to be divine Ben; you helped shape so much and I feel deeply appreciative for you brother! I love you man!

24) Luke Mehall - Luke! You also came into my life near the time when Ben did. Your influence is still blessed upon me today as we live and love in the same town of Colorado together - brothers for the ages. Luke, you also were pivotal in my life - you brought meaning to why writing is important - the storytellers and gleaners of life's lessons writers can be. Our joint venture with the Climbing Zine (see shameless plug here!) gave me this unique chance to help you champion something that was truly unique and worth aspiring towards. And, in spaces not writing related, we spent a good bit of time outside together, taking a few road trips to Illinois learning and loving about much, from women to work and play. Lastly, I attribute your extension of care to me, in the form of telling me about Open Sky, as the biggest reason I am beginning to flourish in Durango. Thanks so much man; so glad you are still a bright and shiny presence (like a penny found on the ground) in my life! I love you brother.

25) Greg "Peg Leg" Simpson - Greg, you like Molly are a chance for me to impart love and wisdom whilst learning, too. Your craving for life and growth is inspiring to me. As I share with you often, you are further along the curve of growth and development then I was at your age. I appreciate the friendship and challenge we surmounted jointly, physically and emotionally, on our Appalachian Trail journey! Looking forward to future adventures with you man; now finish your schooling and make a big brother figure like me proud. I love you man!

26) Eva Paul - Eva, you were a source of spiritual exploration. I felt a deep and intimate connection to you in your shared passion of life's subtle layers. You also were, and continue to be, a little-to-no bullshit type of person. I appreciate that realness about you. I am stoked to have your presence in my life! I love you Eva, thank you.

27) Amber Sherman - An earlier influence in my young college life. You, Amber, were an intimate source of connection about the deeper grooves I found myself swirling in - especially when I feeling in a corner with relationships. Like a sister-brother relationship, we both shared and listened when each other was in need of a deep connection. You, also, furthered my growth and passion for working with youth by channeling me into orientation work at IUP. Thank you Amber! I wish you well with your newest pursuit - raising a lovely, growing child with your husband. I love you!

28) Ryan Halliwell  - Ryan! Our history goes as far back and as deep as Adams'. We've known each other for a long set of years and we've maintained a loving, open relationship. I can remember the golden support you showed to me in my post-motorcycle accident times of darkness. You, as well as your brother Peter, were crucial in my sustainable journey out West, pulling some big strings at work to help me secure a seasonal job at the Ritz-Carlton this past winter, not to mention house me in your apartment, too! I have a lot of love for you Ryan; thanks man.

29) Donald Rodgers - Don, you win the honors for the hidden appreciation award. While our interactions tended to be in brevity, there was something settling about your words, your wisdom, and your bright smile - beaming across your whole face - that struck a chord deep within me. I feel most that your acceptance and willingness to meet me where I was at, in order to teach me how to better care for plants and lawns, is something that carries over into my non-plant-based life. Thank you Don for your subtle love and your huge care in my life! I love you.

Bonus list of people I'd feel disinclined to omit:
Seth Tyger, Michael "Fred" Fredrick, Timmy Foulkes, Andrew Kubik, Edna & Neil Lehman, Brett & Anna Heher, Shari Costello, Sue North, David Hutchison, Andrew Miller, Jason Timpson, Sarah Chapman, Pat Mckee, Jeff Reed, John Risinger, Jamie Minchin, Hannah Teagle, Dr. Jim Lancaster, David "Crockett" Greene, David "Lorax" Gunderson, Dr. Madeline Paternostro Bayles, Maura Weaver, Amber Jeck, Morgan Keller, Ashley Burkoltz, Janice Smith, and Matthew Wagner.

With the words and praise of those I have much to be thankful for cast, please, if you are reading this and know this person would appreciate to see how I appreciate them, pass the word along. This, in many ways, could spread like a loving blanket of warmth to offer others the support and feedback that they are cherished people in life!

Love: Tis an infectious bug worth catching!

Lots of just that - love, and profusely abundant thanks to all of you,
Alan

Love in a heavy-hitting song: 

Crystal Blue Persuasion

Look over yonder
What do you see?
The sun is a-risin'
Most definitely
A new day is comin', whoo-hoo
People are changin'
Ain't it beautiful, whoo-hoo
Crystal blue persuasion

Better get ready
Gonna see the light
Love, love is the answer, whoo-hoo
And that's all right
So don't you give up now, whoo-hoo
It's so easy to find
Just look to your soul (Look to your soul)
And open your mind

Crystal blue persuasion
Mm-hmm
It's a new vibration
Crystal blue persuasion
Crystal
Blue persuasion

Maybe tomorrow
When he looks down
On every green field, whoo-hoo
And every town
All of his children
In every nation
There'll be peace and good
Brotherhood
Crystal blue persuasion
Yeah

Crystal blue persuasion, aha
Crystal blue persuasion, aha
Crystal blue persuasion, aha (Oh)
Crystal blue persuasion, aha
Crystal blue persuasion, aha
Crystal blue persuasion, aha
Crystal blue persuasion, aha

Back to Society?

Back; unstructured time for the next 5 days, not including today. What to do?
Sitting on chairs, walking down grocery store isles; seeing pretty women in their summer clothing - skimpy, suggestive, and slightly offensive. What does it really mean to be alive and experience life?

Entering the restrooms of various places, I find an aversion to sitting upon the porcelain, especially when squatting has been the norm for the past week in the wilderness. Society takes on a weird, confusing tone.

Music; what a delicious treat for my self-starved melody-craving brain. A normalized, acceptable medium worth missing, in my opinion.

People pass by. I give and receive, accept and reflect smiles that feel genuine for both parties. This resonates warmly - happiness, respect - on the inside.

Returning to society after working exclusively in the wilderness for 8 days around the same seven people is quite a trip. My lens for looking, feeling, and experiencing others is different. Passing farts aloud, for example, is a practice in discernment, here in this place we call society: a group of people involved with each other through persistent relations, or a large social grouping sharing the same geographical or social territory, subject to the same political authority and dominant cultural expectations. Human societies are characterized by patterns of relationships between individuals who share a distinctive culture and institutions; a given society may be described as the sum total of such relationships among its constituent members, (Source: Wikipedia).

 


Eventually, within an hour or two of being back, though, society seems normal enough; well, kind-of: Smartphones everywhere, personal computers - like this one I'm staring at, bicycles, steam-billowing locomotives, parking meters, electrical grids - linking masses of buildings and homes together in the unity of light: inventions of a modern society.

I feel myself conforming again, back to the accepted, expectable patterns. Tolerating to sit in chairs, when all week I've been sitting cross-legged, Indian style on nature's floor; meeting my primal survival judgement of people around me with compassion and acceptance for each individuals' differences - as I would myself.

Perplexed? Certainly.
Anxious? Not certain.
Appreciating life and opportunity? Oh yes!
Thank you.
Amen (so be it).

Recant the Past

This piece originally appeared on this blog in 2009; feels a treat to revisit the writing gone by. Cheers. 

This post poses a problem from the start. I highly desire to update ya'll but how do I do it without drowning on and on about boring this, perhaps exciting that? Flow with me...

The road back to Colorado was long in length and time, but never boring in retrospect. Some may recall me lamenting for a few moments about the drab landscape of Nebraska; well a change of heart occurred. While this didn't happen during the trip, I came across a photo of beautiful forest in northern Nebraska and immediately recanted my one-sided and under-exposed opinion.

Flash back eight, maybe ten hours earlier. The lights of E cubed were in my rear-view, along with Champaign, IL. I was traveling mostly alone amongst a few dedicated souls, trucking their way to the next pick-up or drop-off. The moon shone bright over my left shoulder as my bearing pointed northerly. I can extract thoughts of feeling not so alone; the moon has that companionship about it. Like most things though, it was not to last. Before the sun's introduction into that part of late evening/early morning, I found the back of my eyelids satiation for my slightly sleep-deprived body. When I awoke, the bright orb star, colored a yellowish orange, was just beginning its tract up and out of the earth, from somewhere else. At this point, a unique situation presented itself: I was now heading due West, while on my six o'clock, the sun was ascending.

Picture for yourself the situation. Many, perhaps all of us have seen a sun-rise and its welcomed beauty, but have we ever found ourselves on the back side of sun rise? To see the world illuminate as if a bright light were shinning from over your shoulder, brings thoughts of an unparalleled nature. At the time, my current thought train was held up, as if the conductor of the locomotive spied a potential danger in the track ahead. I was struck with a non-violent but surreal thought: the reversed perspective on a seemingly familiar event, item, or otherwise, elicits a new shade of understanding. Looking down at the ant, as he crawls across your kitchen floor carrying some booty of useful nature, you think how small he is; but the ant looks back and thinks how large you are. Is the ant really that tiny or are we just that big? Perspective dictates which answer fits.

Pregnant with that thought, think of a time in your life when perspective played out; where the chance presented itself for you to understand both sides of the coin. Would you go back and change the outcome? Nebraska is less boring glancing back to the moment. I know for sure reconsideration of perspective in my own life would change a lot of previously held notions of x, y, or z. Today will be yesterday and tomorrow will be today; guaranteed. Live not in the past, but reflect upon its imagery to serve as a guide for where you are going. 

The reflecting pool of memory is a beautiful and individually-unique place, but keep focus on the larger body of water known as life, for it holds many unknowns - on the surface and deep down in the depths. At times your road will be traveled alone, with others passing, caring not to glance at you or your situation. Find those that cherish you and you them; share openly and honestly all you can.

Respect perspective. What's mine is yours, but what's yours isn't always mine. I definitely gaze rearward and think...
...analyzing things past overwhelms. I'm glad the road revealed to me a new perspective. The application of implications bore into me. I will not succeed every time I try, but I will seek to spectate the various angles, and then decide what, where, or why.

I leave not knowing where to exit. As a story begins, so does an ending. Whether or not it is finalized now or ever, is not important. How it shapes you in the process of being told is what counts indefinitely. Past is permanent. Future is impressionable. Make it as you may.


Alan

...

Golden rose, the color of the dream I had,
Misty blue and lilac too.

It's only a dream,
I'd love to tell somebody about this dream:

The sky was filled with a thousand stars,
While the sun kissed the mountains blue;

And eleven moons played across rainbows,
Above me and you.

Gold and rose - the color of the velvet walls - surround us.

Jam with me,

Let your love free.

Space to test,

That which cannot jest,

Your heart, rhythm, and soul:

(listen on the blog site)

"I'll Be Loving You"

When the morning sun

Melts the morning dew

I'll be loving you

When the evening sun

Tells me the day is done

I'll be loving you

[CHORUS]

And I'll be loving you

Until my dying days

And I'll be loving you

Just an old fool set in my ways

Although it seems

That you are in my dreams

I'll be loving you

Somehow I know

It's really gotta show

That I'll be loving you

[CHORUS]

It won't mean the same

If you never know my name

Cause I'll be loving you

When the morning sun

Melts the morning dew

I'll be loving you

[CHORUS]

Unh!

Alan 

The Free-ness of Freedom

"Freedom begins between your ears."

-Edward Abbey

What does it mean to be free; to live and breathe in Freedom? That capitalized noun that evokes a sense of nostalgic pride from within my head and breast, my gut. In the sense of the word, we have it all - Americans that is. So much so that we relish in what we've been automatically blessed with: this Earth, with little conscious understanding of the reactions to our actions.

how about you?

Take for example a current hot button issue, hydraulic fracturing. Sure, it nets a source of energy for us to consume, but at what cost? A larger question I ponder: is there a way for us to forgo this dirty, au courant, seemingly satisfying temptation?

An aside: what if all passenger cars stopped working for the rest of our natural lives and people subscribed to walking or biking instead; what would happen? Whatever resulted would surely be eerie: a ceasing of mechanical noise, instead being replaced by a silence permeating over our ears and consciousness; an appreciation for simple machines like bikes and other non-motorized wheel-bound forms of transport, which fortunately remove the need for a gym membership; and, a recognition in our senses - spiralling up our nerve columns to that space where respect of the other things living inherent on this Earth deeply resides.

Boy, what would that be like? Will we ever get there ... ?
I'm not sure.

If you've read this far, though, I do know that the place to start is already buzzing; percolating with glucose, ready to respond. That space 'tween your ears - primed and awaiting your pious discretion.
Now, what will you do?


Sunshine and dreams of dreams,
Alan

Questions I ponder

What is the meaning of life? What shall I do with it?

I cannot say I know the answer to that. I even, by random chance, watched part of Monty Python's The Meaning of Life last evening, and I still don't know (of course, if you've seen that film, then you know they do nothing to seriously address that question; instead, they only tickle the mind and soul with hearty, cheeky humor).

If I ask myself these questions today, does that mean I'll know tomorrow? Hmm, doubtfully I concede to an acceptable answer of "no."

Life has this way of revealing just enough to keep us moving, but not too much where we become planned to the T with what we are doing in our lives, today or tomorrow. I feel delighted to be thankful of this honest notion.

Now, in my late 20s I reflect on my early 20s; that period of life where I grew a lot as a person. I seem to look to one particular marker in the sand where my life took a turn for the better, still felt today to be true; even though at the time, life was as grim as I ever knew (read older post here).

I know, through time's gentle, assured passage that I am where I need to be. I believe that the things past have occurred because that was my path then - whether a path predetermined, or a path created by my actions in the earlier spaces of life. Indeed, what we reap is what we sow!

So, what shall I do with my life? What does life mean? Great questions. I still, 20 minutes later cannot answer those; nor do I really want to. I can, however, take the faith I've built - with the love and care from others - and fasten my love and attention in the moments here and now; my wonderful surroundings. Alive. Breathing. Loving.

Thank you for this; your presence in life is unmistakable.

Alan

Even if I could see, I do not wish to know.

Downsize Your Life, Upgrade Yo Livin'!

Dirtbags, generally, come from the middle class. If you are the upper class, you don't aspire to downgrade to a middle class lifestyle; if you're in the lower class, you're trying to jump to the middle, or beyond. That's how it mostly works. 

My friend Luke's words hit home. I am a person who comes from a middle class upbringing. At a young age there was never truly a challenge, at least that I knew about, that I had to worry about. Much like today, in my own individualized life, I have clothes to wear, food to eat, and a mattress to sleep on. In fact, it seems that I still have too much. 

Let's snapshot a hypothetical situation for a moment: how often do you hear of, or know of someone, who goes from owning a Mercedes to owning a Dodge; a smartphone to a basic one; a fine wine, aged in an oak wooden cask for 20 years to a box o' wine; a lavish apartment or house to single-space studio living? 

The advent of downsizing in our lives is, to my better estimate, becoming a small-time phenomena. Perhaps it is the small, mountain town cultures, like Durango, that I find myself attracted to and living in, but more and more, the people I meet - whom share a comparable story of a middle-class upbringing - echo a desired life of downsizing. Why is that? 

You pull the tree-print bedsheet sourced from who knows what hand-me-downs and an old L.L. Bean sleeping bag-turned-comforter-gift from Grandma when I was 10 over the sleeping mattress, nestled intentionally in the back living area. Now, with the side door open, the sleeping area is suited for lounging, maybe even guests. You tuck the last of your almond milk into the cooler, saving it for the last ration of granola left in your food storage bin; a trip to the grocery store tomorrow for a few essentials will be necessary. The sun is shining, and a blue bird Colorado day is in the air and sky above. A Mourning Dove sings its song - uttering a distinctive cooOOoo-woo-woo-woooo, hoping to attract a mate. In under 2 minutes the home-on-wheels is ready for travel. Now, where to?

To say that a downsized lifestyle is highly desirable might not ring true to every ear. Though, there is something lingering, edging at the fringes of our realized reality, subconsciously supple to the life of a dirtbag. One, who, according to the reputable, indisputable source urbandictionary.com,

...pursues the committed, sometimes extreme, lifestyle to the point of abandoning employment and other societal norms in order to pursue said lifestyle. Dirtbags can be distinguished from hippies by the fact that dirtbags have a specific reason for their living communally and generally non-hygienically; dirtbags are seeking to spend all of their moments pursuing their lifestyle.  

So what's the big fuss? Why even write about this?

Admittingly, while zoning out in public places, I find myself eavesdropping on people's conversations (I could be eavesdropping, observing your vocal utterances right now - eek!), and sometimes what comes out of mouths, whether slips of the unsatisfied Ego or not, surprise me. The facts about Americans are written and out there for us to consume; that is not something I'm pushing. With that in mind, I cringe when I hear people communicate that they want more stuff, more things, more desires they truly don't need to be the beautiful people they can be! What happened to being satisfied with what is provided? 

Enter the dirtbag state of mind checklist for a semi-rad day:

- sun is out, somewhere in the sky above,

- shoes, or something akin to that, are upon feet and clothes upon body and assorted parts (gloves optional),

- nourishment is in the belly, or on its way,

- friends are stoked on doing something social and/or active with their free time,

- a source of income is present, or not worried about,

- home is where the head and heart lays down,

- serendipitous encounters with strangers are looked forward to, and

- a smile, "woo hoo," or "unh!" is the tell-tale sign of a great day. 

To replicate this in our own lives would be a practice worth taking pride in; a keeping up with the Joneses-type of societal norm to rally the masses around; a conversation worth eavesdropping on. Will we get there; perhaps not in the big cities quite yet, but near and around the small towns in the mountains, sure, why not. 

Hygienically clean hand high-fives to you in your day,

Alan

A view of the La Sals, near Moab, at dusk from across the Colorado plateau

Reflecting and Wandering in Bliss

Not 10 minutes earlier, I packed up the kitchen into Freedom, desiring to write; this gypsy lifestyle seems easy with just me to tend to. Seems shallow though. Today, while doing laundry - or is it, while waiting for the laundry machine to do my laundry that I dirtied? - a Native American looking man approached my seated form in the back of the van with side door open. I had just finished snacking on spinach, crackers, and cheese and he must have spotted this from across the street as he prepared for our introduction.

With uncertainty in his voice, he weighed his predicament on the scales of my voluntary listening: he and his friend were in need of food for their journey back to somewhere in Arizona. Feeling content with my supple snack, I offered what I had - cheese, crackers, but oddly not the spinach. He accepted them with seeming gratefulness and told me his name. I replied with mine and bid him luck on his journey home. Not 30 minutes later, while out and about walking towards downtown I spotted his familiar figure and attire from across the street as he and his friend came walking out of the liquor store.

I'll stop the story there for I do not desire to finish, nor even speculate what could be the ending. Life itself is already written.

***

Freedom has been making a great companion lately - as great as any mainly inanimate object can. I've found my last few days in Durango to be necessarily easy. After a week in the Moab desert,  riding mountain bikes until my behind hurts, I've found my presence back here in this mountain town to be blissful. Though, camping in the desert - with all the surprises of spring weather - was something worth experiencing. 

Freedom in the desert? Sure thing

I've heard people express that they do not enjoy the dust and sand of the desert and I, too, once agreed with said phrase. Now, after a handful of forays into the desert, I've found the quiet and peacefulness of those places to be unlike anything else. When the wind is calm - and the motor bikers gone for the day - the quiet is so prevalent that you can hear yourself hearing nothing. Almost as if someone turned on the television, but put the sound on mute. Visions of wonderful scrub brush, vying for position in this harsh, deprived landscape - battling, coexisting around rock of many different earthen tones and hues, shapes and sizes. Sunshine, when its warm hand extends to the cold desert sand, warms and lights the day; only then to finally depart behind the canyon walls, reminding you of its bright blessing.

The La Sal Mountains, often seen from a high perch upon the canyon rim or in the open, even keel of the plateau, beckon admiring gazes long and deep upon their still wintry flanks. Named for their appearance to the Conquistadors, who thought that they must be made of salt, for nothing so near the oppressively dry heat of the desert could be holding snow. I admire this notion, as I appreciate the still Spring temperatures of the desert landscape. 

The La Sals, days before being a late Spring snow covered them. 

One morning of memory sticks out: the sun was unusually slow in its stern awakening of me this morning. Where could that lovable orb of brightness be? Blinking once, twice; seems colder this morning then the last few - is that snow falling outside the van window? Indeed! A thin layer of snow has fallen gracefully, without much guidance from the wind, to bless the desert life with preciously essential moisture. I've only been in the desert twice now when the snow has fallen. Tis a special thing to experience. Borderline magical.

Hmm, speaking of experiences - how grateful it is to be alive. To share smiles and laughs with my dear friend Ben Johnson and his new lady-friend Lisa this past week in Moab. To meet and get to know Andy and Robbie from Crested Butte as they celebrated the end of the winter season along with Ben, Lisa, and I. To acknowledge that I, too, am searching - or waiting rather - for this deeper feeling of connection. A recognition that what I possess and offer is appreciated and desired in a mirrored plane by her on the other side of the equation. But, perhaps that desire is not in my path quite yet. 

Life is still too unsure to be known. What I do know, though, is that my van has become a home of mobile ability that houses, transports, and stores all of what I seemingly need. I am appreciative for this machine that surely is opening me and my love for life in subtle ways. 

The life of a dirtbag is a dream never had, only a reality lived. 

To you in your day: may love permeate you in your darkest reaches; may the sun be a reminder of the bliss that life and being alive is.

I love you all,

Alan 

A desert cactus in bloom, Joshua Tree National Park, CA

Stoking in Progress!

The bins of all my belongings were in; the duffle bags of miscellaneous gear, too. I guess this meant the van was packed; but, I couldn't decide. Where were my thoughts at?

My nerves were as settled as they could be; nothing like the anxiousness I was feeling the night before. That weird combination of tired but wired - even without ingesting caffeine. "Okay, what did I forget?" Nothing registered in my mind, so I guess that meant it was time to forge-off into the early morning of a March in late winter. As the sunlight slowly warmed the cold, damp chill of a near-zero degree night, I smiled at the imperceptible motion of its loving arc into the sky, towards the zenith: its brightest moment, still hours away.

Again; where were my thoughts at? The van: this would be Freedom's first long trip. From the post-storm scene of late winter in the Vail Valley to a bit warmer Durango destination, in the southwest corner of Colorado. How would Freedom incarnate - named in honor of my dear friend Luke's last car, Freedom original - fare? A number of wintery mountain passes lay between Edwards and Durango; would passage be permitted up, over and down the other side without incidence?

Thoughts, so consuming when, like a garden in its productive season, they are ripening with untraceable fervor. In this, though, there was the voice of intuition. That soft, almost subconscious stream of certainty that comes to a wondering and racing mind. "Thank you for this!" I knew, then, that I would be fine because of the trust I would place in the process.

A quick breakfast at a locally delicious breakfast place - the Northside Kitchen - with a friend and coworker Jeremy, saw me exiting the Vail Valley with all my belongings packed semi-neatly in the van. With a warm smile on my face and in my heart, I glanced at the familiar scene I was leaving behind; the last image of yesterday's memory being the flag of our country, flowing vibrantly in the gentle wind of morning high above a shopping center parking lot - proudly displaying her sun-soaked colors of red, white, and blue abreast to my appreciative eyes and persona. What a great notion: freedom!

As the mountains passes came and went, the undulating terrain accompanying the many ups and downs were no less as spectacular as the last. Surely, Colorado is a beautiful state! Evidence enough to me that something far greater than we humans created such amazement. The mountains, standing strong in their post-storm state; begging for nothing, yet standing tall for everything beautiful in nature. How the wild white edges of their uneven tops sawed nonviolently at the vivid blue sky above; their stark contrast a loving shock to my happiness and level of stoke (see this article for more on stoke). Easily, I went from substantially stoked to stiked! Again: "thank you for this."

Arriving finally to Durango, nearly 6 hours later, I was greeted with warmer temperatures, and a scene familiar to me from my last visit in the Fall. My dear friend Luke, in wanting to keep up with his habits of health and leisure, invited me for a run along the Animas river near the heart of town. After a joyful and anticipated greeting, Luke and I set-off. Finding conversation topics easily, we chatted as we ran about work, about women in our lives, and of course about plans for the Climbing Zine's volume 5 release. Amidst the laughter and lightheartedness of the afternoon, I couldn't help but think how grateful I was for my journey here. Surely, that power that is was watching over me - knowing I'd make it to where I needed to be once I arrived. This notion of care was complemented when, post-run Luke and I went to Yoga class.

Practicing Yoga is like riding a bike: once you've mastered the basics, it all comes back, regardless of the downtime between your last practice. I appreciate that about this holistic activity. When I close my eyes today, I can remember the feeling of contentment, of happiness that I felt in class yesterday; again, coming back to my gratefulness for the clandestine guidance to this point in my life.

***

I am set to begin working sometime in April for Open Sky Wilderness Therapy as a driving escort. I am excited about this part time gig, as it will afford me time to let my adventurous and active lifestyle fly. Furthermore, the possibility for something bigger and career-like is predicted with a organization like Open Sky; not to mention the ability for Luke and I to take the Climbing Zine places it can go.

So, to you in your day, sitting here, now, reading this - or even looking at the pictures alone. I hope you are finding the subtle whisper of guidance from intuition - or that metaphysical sense that guides you outside of your self-created reasons - all while enjoying something that is wild and wonderful.

Ha, smiles to you in this!
Alan

Honnold Speaks Honestly

If you have the time, or choose to make the time, please take a few drawn-out moments to watch the following video short from world-renowned climber Alex Honnold:

This, to me, captures the essence many dirtbag climbers strive for: a life of simpleness. I've known, personally, people like this, and they tend to be generally understanding of this way of life. As climbing grows in popularity, it warms me to know that Alex is bringing his take, his gained knowledge about environmental responsibility to the mainstream society. So, kick-back and enjoy this short diddy.

Smiles to you on your Monday,
Alan 

The Way of a Dirtbag

The dirtbag moves from place to place, often attracted by light or heat, food or restroom; a familiar and known face, or the opportunity to meet anew. Sure, there is a home space that the dirtbag returns to sometime before bed, but in the time and space between, the dirtbag finds comfort in the prominent and abundant around her or him. This is not free-loading as some may seek to to title-strap, but more a way of full expression. Take for example my current situation: I'm sitting at the coffee/book cafe in Edwards. here is a hot cup of Jasmine tea issuing steam to my left; a large collection of other customers to my right, and a computer using complimentary WIFI to my forefront. I, like the others gathered in this space, am a paying customer. In this cash-for-service agreement, I am taking full advantage as my privilege as a dirtbag to live-up in the prominent and abundant.

I've heard from others in my past that to be happy the basic needs of survival in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs must be met: air, water, and food; clothing and shelter; sex, sleep, and homeostasis. While in current reality my sex life does not exist, the love and attention from females does, so perhaps that allows me to move through for the time being. Anyways, tangents bent on explaining misplaced knowns aside, I am in a content place.

I am continually amazed by how comfortable I have become in a relative short amount of time. I've been living outside in a tent for 6 nights, counting tonight. I am well-fed, employed, and relatively cleanly; though, not always timely in the later. My four months spent outside on the Appalachian Trail, plus the 2 months of couch surfing post AT, have trained me well. I am not an original; no, only a unique replication of a living and breathing formula being applied countlessly across this nation and world. Though, I would throw in a disclaiming word: I live ample and in robust wellness; not all dirtbags can be as fortunate. Though, choice is a a large precursor to the lifestyle any individual dirtbag chooses to live. I am a well-kempt, uniformed and nameplated Bellmen for the Ritz-Carlton by day, and a full-fledged dirtbag by night or non-working hours. I take pride in my lifestyle. Perhaps, I am out to prove something to myself: that it takes very little to enjoy life fully. That we, in our current society's trendings, are over-consumed with things, when what we truly need boils down to very few things.

I like to think that the essence of what life is about is in the fringes of our popular society; that the essential ingredients to a happy and full life aren't going to be created by some Silicone Valley tycoon, or in a scientific lab. But, created or re-created inside of ourselves once we re-synthesize the synthesized: meaning, take what you've learned all your life, divide all the things you've added to complicate it, subtract that sum by the additional 2 to 3 things that you've held deeply onto, then add back in the things we've had since we were young that were relatively free, easy, and commonplace. You should be blessed to discover a simple sum of happiness in the robust essentials remaining.

***

I don't have an ownership to a gym, I ride a bike or ski up and over mountains to work; I don't own a car anymore, I snowshoe to my bike and ride it to and fro. I used to own a smart phone until I felt dumb for owning one,  barely using it to it's fullest. I place a minor faith in technology to provide me with entertainment and a means to communicate and connect with those I know and love, but I don't depend on it solely. I enjoy writing letters and reading the written word, and a visit with a friend or loved one is sure bliss! I like to think I am at peace with not having health insurance or a 401k to retire upon one day. To me, the act of daily living is substance enough for what I need now, or possibly in the future. My daily actions are my investment, barring the intervention of a higher power to guide me through its teachings. I have a faith in said unknown processes leading and guiding us in life. All my belongings fit into a car, should I require one to move-on from this current location. But, that is me.

I am grateful that I am a unique person, much like all of you possibly reading this are! I realize my life is not something desired by many, yet, there is something deep, perhaps primal or egotistical that you desire in the way of a dirtbag. I understand that; that's why I became one. To push through the sand castle walls to a seashore of pure imagination. So, how to become more steeped in the robust essentials brewing?

Well, that is something that you'll have to explore. I know that it is sometimes easier to continue on around the circle, easing into the spot you want to be in on the next rotation around, rather than backing-up through your previously placed paces. Yes? Ha, well you can answer that for yourself.

Lots of love to you in your travels through this crazy spectrum of life and living. I hope that you discover something simple and beautiful that doesn't cost a thing; well, maybe just the cost of a cup of hot tea or two.

Smiles,
Alan

inspiration to me: the former Freedomobile of a dear friend and indeed, our American freedom. 

Inside, just for a song

I've found my first few nights outside to be pleasant. The sound when I lay down to sleep after journaling is bliss. The far sounds of a mechanical society rolling over crushed, lifeless asphalt drone in the distance down the mountain from me; the lights, in their bizarre yellowish tinge, like an unhealthy mouth of teeth, thankfully displaced from me, too. Today, as I sit in my former apartment drinking a cup of coffee and gathering the last of my frozen or cold food items for transport to my tent home, I appreciate a song by Jethro Tull that came on my music shuffle:

All the places I've been make it hard to begin
to enjoy life again on the inside,
but I mean to.
Take a walk around the block
and be glad that I've got me some time
to be in from the outside,
and inside with you.

I'm sitting on the corner feeling glad.
Got no money coming in but I can't be sad.
That was the best cup of coffee I ever had.
And I won't worry about a thing
because we've got it made,
here on the inside, outside so far away.

And we'll laugh and we'll sing
get someone to bring our friends here
for tea in the evening --
Old Jeffrey makes three.
Take a walk in the park,
does the wind in the dark
sound like music to you?
Well I'm thinking it does to me.

Can you cook, can you sew --
well, I don't want to know.
That is not what you need on the inside,
to make the time go.

Counting lambs, counting sheep
we will fall into sleep
and we awake to a new day of living
and loving you so.

Happy Saturday to you in your own enjoyment of life,

Alan 

a tent home amongst the Aspens and scrub brush of the high Rockies after a fresh overnight snow