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

Shower the people with Love

Earlier this morning, while sitting at the local cafe for a breakfast alone, I tuned-out in my reading of The Week magazine. For those unfamiliar with The Week it is this one condensed source of news I can rely on to come back up-to-date with what's happening in the world. Immersed in the reading I failed to notice the seeming calamity going-on to my right and left. Tuning-in to the reality of the cafe scene now and again I was treated to James Taylor singing through the speakers to ...shower the people you love with love... and I smiled at that notion. Going back to my reading I had smiles and easiness on my mind. Though, as I turned the page I came back out of that concentrated medium of reading the written word to something not what James was just uttering.

Oddly enough, on both sides of me, the couples at each table were squabbling about things that I didn't quite grasp from my brief prying. But, from what I could ascertain, I did gather that they were in respectively separate debates of the heated sort with one another about things that didn't pertain or matter to me. What did matter, however, was that after noticing both couples on both sides, I couldn't help but wonder if they hadn't just heard the song that was playing. Surely, they would have stopped and retraced their steps with forgiveness and uttered, "I'm sorry, I love you regardless;" right?

Hmmm...

Anyways, speaking of love, I'm in love with the idea of moving outdoors. Perhaps there will one day be a lil lady to shift that love, and surely I know she is out there - but till I am with her completely, I will harbor and grow my expanding love for mother nature. Today, I set-up my home for the next month. I was overjoyed to put my physical strengths to work this past week and again today digging out the 2+ feet of snow to shape my 10 x 20 foot rectangle. It seems there is never a dull moment in my infancy of living outdoors. Tonight, as in in the next 30 minutes, once I depart the warmth and comfort of indoor plumbing, electric lights and heat, I will be at home in my spacious tent. With the sugary accumulation of snow coming down, the foothills of the Rockies I will call my home. And, it is in this space that I will move to shower others with my love for being alive. Thank you for this! I am grateful...indeed.

Home sweet snowy home! 

Warm thoughts of Love,
Alan

Gratitude is the Attitude

“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” (Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.)

Even before I take my first step I gotta give props where it is due: my family. Without my family I am unsure of where I would be, or if I'd even have this upcoming chance to move outside into a tent. My attitude in this moment is one of gratitude; gratefulness for them and their love and support towards me.

My first step, then, is to embrace the decision I am making. To live in the presence of joy and appreciation at the life I am able to live and breathe! There surely is a reason why I am still alive, and until that is known - if ever - I will continue to develop moments towards gratitude and things that I have freely and persistently. Thank you for an ability to trust, especially when the whole cannot be seen. 

Two pieces of the puzzle materialized today: my tent arrived and an affordable pair of snowshoes were purchased serendipitously off of a local man through Craigslist. Few hypothetical pieces remain, though thankfully, the biggest piece of all is always within you and I: belief.

Appreciation in that,

Alan


Slow cheetah come
Before my forest
Looks like it's on today

Slow cheetah come
It's so euphoric
No matter what they say

Preparations and plans have begun!

The Great March Move-out: this notion that beginning at the start of March, I am moving outside into a tent is off and running. A Hilleberg 4 season tent - spacious beyond belief, I might add, as well as a zero degree sleeping bag are on their way in the mail.

Hilleberg Keron 4 GT

I am excited for this new chapter in my life where instead of reading books inside about the outdoors, I'll be outside reading books about just that. To live, to feel, what it takes to exist outside in the winter time is something I look forward to!

More to come as the train comes down the tracks. Cheers!
Alan

In that moment, what else matters?

Do you ever find yourself being taken-over by the moment? Today, while occupying my morning time before work I was treated to a short, but complete space-out in the following Jimi Hendrix Experience song (works best on the blog site):

The final minute and 20 seconds grip me; in this space nothing cognitive registers. The intensity of the moment of bliss builds; I feel a recognized and complete soul for this fleeting moment of rapture. (Perhaps if you aren't feeling it, you need to turn the music up) As to let it take-over, to permeate you...to echo off something inside of you that isn't usually touched by every day life.

I often think of the way that songs such as these make me feel, and wonder what my daily life would be like if I could take them with me and just blast them, as to share the moment of musical joy with others - just to see if they, too, feel it?

Then I come back down to reality, aided by that which is right now: eat, sleep, work, repeat. I look forward to the future; to that moment where the music keeps playing on, and I, in the ecstasy, infinitely illimitable live full, fuller, fully!

To blessed bliss in your day,
Alan

where does the trail lead? Doesn't really matter, does it? 

"How Shall I Live My Life?"

A few questions for ponderance from an interview with Kathleen Dean Moore, environmental philosopher, author, and professor of environmental philosophy and ethics at Oregon State University:

Question 1: 

If place is this important in our construction of ourselves, and we are never in one place, what will become of us? Context: Memories live in places, and you can find them if you go there...

Question 2: 

If people are defined by their landscapes, what happens to our selves - our integrity, our wholeness - when the landscape is destroyed?

what happens when this sight, this wonder, this beauty is no more?

Excerpts from a dirtbagging vagabond's diary ...

The public discourse of my personal thoughts and feelings are on display here: I seek to share openly about the raw emotion that I experienced at one point in my life not too long ago. It is within this primary space that my life is defining still - with swirls, lateral shifts, and ventures into the heights and depths of living. Please tread lightly, knowing that an emotional beast slumbers in all of us. 


11/18/12
I pause off the side of the highway; lulled into a longing stare with the approaching sunrise. Through my side view mirror the early light bleeds freedom, beauty, simplicity! Off in the distance a train horn sounds as a tractor trailer comes boldly down the highway; headed west, like I.

A high white wisp of cloud simmers above a lone star: an uncaptured prisoner in the loving, non-violent war between dark and dawn. My hands grow colder with the early morning chill and my pen strokes increase, attempting to capture the portrait of beauty ahead of me. More light, more colors, more beauty. Is there any reason not to smile? Even the steady, yet sparse flow of traffic in the predawn maze of color fails to disgruntle me.

The flat vastness of the Midwest seems nothing to lament about, though, possibly unlike other visitors to this region, I am most appreciative of the sunrise and sunsets blessing this land from wide right to wide left. A state policeman pulls-up to my stopped vehicle, sitting dormant on the side of the interstate. He kindly informs me to not be stopped unless I am in an emergency. Reluctantly, though glad for what I saw, I move on - Westward!

***

I take a few fleeting moments to record the sunset; after a sunrise this morning, I feel complete in some fashion. The vivid blue way up in the ionosphere and the bright burning yellow of the sun's refraction; the pink-purply hue of clouds proximal to the sun's last occupancy on the horizon round out the evening portrait. Such beauty! If only it could be without these tractor trailers and cars rolling by; and, perhaps shared with another curious soul as well.

Anyways, onward to the Colorado border; there's still light skyward!


11/21/12
Sitting here, desiring to reflect a bit on my reintegration to Colorado ... again I find it comforting to recall the peacefulness I experienced on that long drive. It wasn't necessarily a kind [of peacefulness] that was inspired externally - as in a beautiful nature scene of waterfalls and sunshine - but rather an internal sense of peace. This is something I've been striving to obtain since my time outside on the [Appalachian Trail]. I imagine the freedom I was and am feeling in that flowing free mentality right now in life. I believe this is something that holistically contributed to my extended sense of calm.

Arriving near the NE Colorado border with Nebraska, I was treated to a final display of evening colors. I had taken 5 or 10 minutes, as the sunny orb descended below the horizon a short time before, to drink it all in; to try and lovingly capture, in words, the scene before me. The crazy colors, pastel in spectrum, seemed quite unique - almost too subtle to describe in generality. Even though my camera captured some of the image electro-mechanically, the sight my whole being witnessed far surpassed anything the camera ever could. Perhaps my heart and mind - sitting as one peacefully - permitted a patient and positive view on what I was witnessing. Perhaps the entire cycle of sunlight - from watching sunrise to sunset - contributed a completed sense of appreciation...hmmmm; hard to know exactly. And that, I feel, is what makes it so simply beautiful.

I don't need to think much about the details; I only need acknowledge and appreciate it.


12/1/12
Feeling negative and bitter right now. Perhaps I'm at my limit. The Unforgiven came on my iPod's shuffle... embitterment shines through right now. My light, what level is it at?

I've given and been given - specifically care and places to stay, shower, and sleep, but still I crave a different way to lighten my life. Journaling seems a good way to express - especially since I don't desire to burden others with my temporary issues.

Perhaps I'm at the threshold of time I can spend flowing freely in my life. [I have] been without work for a while, but what intrigues my curiosity is the continual time spent living in other's spaces: one and a half months and counting. This existence is freeing but I desire a base, a place to call home that isn't my car per se.

I observe the idea to take off the necklace I've made to hold Hannah's bracelet, but in reaching to grasp and take it off, I hesitate and retreat. Sounds like the over-arching notion that has been my emotional journey. What would I truly gain by removing it? The idea that I can be free of it if I choose? Seems a minute point. It'll remain as a token of Love's patience - despite the turmoil I've temporarily created for myself.

Days of the week matter little to me. If anything, the weekend signals increased availability of friends who work weekdays; and certain limitations on business hours: as weekends cause workday shifts, etc.

Sitting here, listening to music, writing thoughts and feelings - thinking about poor me, who only has his car as his home. What a sorry fuck! I haven't been this low in so long. I wonder if I'll be able to shine through to Ben and Agi tonight; or, if I'll disguise my disillusionment with what is truly good in my life right now?

I'm so much more awake and aware in life now, but I also witness the cross-talk of emotion resulting. Treading time to heart and love ... in souljahing on. Gotta!


12/3/12
Sitting on the couch in Rumors Coffee House in [Crested Butte]. The other room was quite loud and this space serves better for reflection and reading - which I intend to do this afternoon/evening.

I'd like to address this past Saturday (12/1/12), a day in which I bleakly saw the world and my immediate future. In such positive force for the last month and half, it seemed quite an unfortunate contrast for me to be so inherently negative. I was bitter. I resolved - even after a beautiful hike to Signal Peak (in Gunnison) - to complain and escape into a cloak of negativity. I acknowledge the necessity - perhaps - of this contrast, but after experiencing such positive flow and vibe for so long, it seemed odd to be in a negative space.

So, here and now - feeling positive and purposeful - I scratch slowly to make sense of the muddy water's surface that was my day past. I look forward to the unknowns. Life is lining me into a necessary space. I appreciate this. Ahhh, breathing...thank you!


12/4/12
Writing for the sake of just that. Still waking up; the sun is bright, and I think of last eve up near Kebler Pass - skate skiing with Ben, Mike, and Josh.

In any direction skyward nothing screamed for more attention than the white crystal holes punched in the black canvas. With my headlamp off the stars shone brilliant and bright; the Milky Way even demonstrating its dusty dance across the sky. What a sight to see; what a sight to feel! Surely this is one of the reasons I came back out West.

***

A moving break from my conscious thought in this exact space brings new information to my cerebrum: the level of comfort I've grown to accept as normal in the last 6 months has helped me grow, surely. For example, using public restrooms for my bodily business; sleeping on floors, often a different one every night - without exact knowledge where I'll sleep the next night, nor worry either. 

This feels freeing - knowing that I am opening to opportunities as they call, instead of halting to think about them. The later perhaps seeking a place of comfort - which seems to have been redefined in my life. 

As I prepare for the winter season, and my time living and renting with the Halliwell Brothers in Edwards, I wonder towards the progress of what has been my life till now. 

I look forward to writing. To pouring over my thoughts - especially my written accounts of thoughts, feelings, and situations - as I prepare to write, to bring forth the creative potential within: sharing the loving flower of freedom with those who seek to hear. This will be a beautiful process. 

I take this final space of white-lined page to thank and appreciate this journey. Much to be grateful for! Thank you to you in my life. 

~Alan

Change and Transformation

I do not know what to write, how to express what has been my week since my last post. A lot of emotional downs, with ups coming in the subsequent wake of the passing storm. In this, I am thankful for a few individuals, who in their wonderfulness have shared their love, advice and journey with me. Yes, I, too, desire the words and love of a mentoring soul. I am thankful for these wise women who shed light on my darkness and brightness on my life, actively and passively!

A number of things could be surmised in the following words, but I seek to keep it in brevity; please enjoy two separate entries below as you intermix the thoughts and feelings of change and transformation:

The Journey of Transformation

But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

— from The Journey by Mary Oliver

I had been contemplating “transformation” and what it means to me when I came across this Mary Oliver poem. I’d been thinking about how change and transformation are obviously closely related, but transformation just feels more deeply personal and life-altering to me. Personal, in the sense that, though change is inevitable, transformation feels more like a conscious change that, once chosen, becomes undeniable. Life-altering, in the sense that conscious change feels to me like a courageous step toward growth and expansion.

Without change, transformation is simply not possible, but change is always occurring with or without a transformative result. The difference lies within us. I know, for myself, that I can quickly center myself into the present moment, but until I really meet myself there I never fully arrive. It’s when I come in direct contact with the moment that I can feel the transformation already beginning. It’s the ability to look around and really see what’s going on while allowing myself to feel the effects inside of me, whether they are physical, mental, emotional—or all of the above. 

Allowing a natural expansion

I find that when I really let myself feel from within, there is a natural expansion outward that occurs without me having to coax or force it. Perhaps that expansion is actually the recognition of the presence of something greater in life that can at that moment, if allowed, guide us toward transformation.

Change suggests an outward shift and transformation suggests an inner shift. There are times we can choose change and, more often, there are times when change just happens, but transformation is always, always a conscious choice. It takes real courage to go “deeper and deeper into the world,” but when each step can bring you closer to the person you know you are and toward the life you want to live, why not????

How does transformation fit into your life experience right now? I invite you to contemplate this inspiring theme and how it affects you as you look ahead and embrace this wonderful new blessing of a year. May we all remember our connection to each other and to something greater that is beyond words, and may we all embrace and enjoy the journey!

***

Want the Change
~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Be inspired by the flame where everything shines as it disappears. The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much as the curves of the body as it turns away.

What locks itself in sameness has congealed.

Pour yourself out like a fountain.

Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking

finishes often at the start, and with ending, begins.

Every happiness is the child of a separation

it did not think it could survive.