Perch of the Wallflower

The buzz is stimulating, perhaps too much so. Their characteristics a smorgousboard of much and many - worth thousands of words combined; long minutes to the individual.

The scene is lively, bursting with energy - perhaps the buzz has them, too? A lady waters flowers, a small girl plays the sad card to her mother; older women chat their gossip about what intrigues their taste for drama as the older man group – regulars at the morning's weekday frenzy – disbands and goes about their day.

Outside, men discuss over plans of the physical sort, referring to different things with their hand gestures. With the onset of June comes a shift, perceivable and recognizable. Do you feel it?

A pregnant woman walks in – nothing unusual and yet there is a kinder regard for her, as if she holds something important.

Like a typical buzz, artificially induced or not, there reaches a point when you level-off and mellow-in. This is where the vibe is. The ladies pour on, leaning in to listen intently to what the others are saying – conveying real interest. The older man group, in a surprising shift of tides, grows instead of dwindling. When one leaves, the lazy Susan keeps rotating to reveal a new face to the group. Bikes with people on them come and go, as do dogs on leashes – some with their mouths tied close to prevent biting or chiding.

A blonde Jackie O comes in the door – complete with the lacy trimmed dress and stylistic Jackie O sunglasses. And on and on...this buzz will continue to climb and level, eventually reaching a climax for most, though the inevitable burst of late bloomers will hit at their premeditated rise to the top within the hours of the day they see fit. Perhaps this is getting on with what it all is: the freedom to choose.

Just maybe, possibly, this is the most intoxicating – even more than the buzz we imbibe, swallow, inhale, inject, snort, gurgle, lick, suckle, apply etc. And, do we know this?

Do the individual sums in the total understand their gravity in the mathematical arithmetic? Their butter in the cake batter, chip in the bingo game, or teeth in the cogged machine?

Do I even understand? I, the man alongside the outside boundary, reasonably comfortable in my perch; soaking up the refracted rays to photosynthesize these words – the words of a wallflower amidst the daises, dosies, floozies, flimbos, and snuffleupaguses. Of all shapes, though mostly white, like I. And perhaps that drives the nail home into the wood: this is a racially sterile environment, a greenhouse in which one can flourish – day after day.

Fortunately, when I was created, I was not confined to be bound to the pot of existence, yet exited the womb of life to walk upon legs. As I'm doing as soon as I finish this sentence.

See you in the sun,

Alan

Spinning

May 31st, go to bed - say a prayer to a higher power, thanking them for your life, your physical and mental capacities - your friends, your van, your family, and the fact that you do not have to work day after day to eat and live.

June 1st, wake up, appreciate something else...

Sit in the seat at the coffee shop, looking out through eyes of privilege at all that surrounds. Take in the morning sky, the beautifully bright blue of Colorado summer. Greet a friend and appreciate their smile, the care they show in the moment, despite the schedule of their day. Sip your tea, type on your keyboard - seek a deep breath, feel it fill your lungs, hold it...a bit more...let it out.

How do you feel?


The last 20 hours have felt like I've been floating. I perceive my body to be grounded, and yet my mind floats - attached through pendulous threads to what is below. Look down, then up quickly and see the world spin in mild disillusionment.

I cannot quite pinpoint the onset, the beginning of this spin-y floating. While belaying my dear friend Luke up a climb at Lemon Lake yesterday, I must have strained or hyper extended my neck whilst looking up at him and now mild vertigo is present when I turn too quickly in any direction. It feels as if my body responds to bring me back into balance, and that my head, my mind, instead, is caught in a spin - not quite in real time with what is going on for the rest of me.

This is what I perceive; maybe it is really part of the plan. And, I am grateful still. I feel trusting that this is part of what I am to experience - the unknown, the unknowing. To experience another lens in which to perceive the world, and in my perceptions foster patience for what is unfolding, minus judgement of myself and certainly others.

The wind it does blow: a gentle breath upon - the trees, us, every and any that will receive and acknowledge it. It feels true, I am motivated to write when I feel I have experienced the bug of gratefulness. And the what ifs: what if my life was continually like this - mild, peripheral spins when I turn too quickly, a sense of disillusionment from what I am, was used to. Then, I think I would feel thankful still for what I have: feet that walk underneath and with me, a mind that thinks and processes, and a heart the loves and beats within a rhythm of life's own flow.

June 1st, go to bed, ...


Thank you again and again. I love you and appreciate your care in my life.

Alan

Intiution, oh how I greet thee

Led to the spot, not by his own thought, but alas a voice, an utter, a whispering;
Trusting in space, without great haste, he enters the coincidental moment;
With Spring in the air, the love of life's share, he smiles, he appreciates the calling. 

 What can be said that already has not? Much to process, a bit at a time - no rush on this - boy, I feel grateful.

Spacey are his thoughts, in and amongst his grand jaunts - from mountains to plains and beyond.

There is, for me, this invisibly tangible string that pulls me along. No rail or line that I must follow, yet a free medium in which I can flow - any way, side-to-side, up and back. Indeed, grateful be thy name!

Fortuitous are my experiences when I am privileged to not work and instead roam a path I have put intentional thought into wandering. The people I meet, the reconnection with ones I know; all is in this grand suggestion of life and living less in an overarching plan of control and contrivance and more in the unknown!

Thank you for this, oh Life and its Creators. I, too, am indebted with a running tab being paid in moments of opportunities, here and today.

Alan

How to Make Love Stay...

"When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It's that simple. This suggests that it isn't love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery, and we long for love to last so that the ecstasy of being near the mystery will last. It is contrary to the nature of mystery to stand still. Yet it's always there, somewhere, a world on the other side of the mirror, a promise in the next pair of eyes that smile at us. We glimpse it when we stand still.

The romance of new love, the romance of solitude, the romance of objecthood, the romance of ancient pyramids and distant stars are means of making contact with the mystery. When it comes to perpetuating it, however, I got no advice. But I can and will remind you of two of the most important facts I know: 

1.) Everything is part of it.
2.) It's never too late to have a happy childhood."

-Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker

Pearly's been true

Thoughts in the windows of time flashing,
Sitting, standing - however it may be,
The middle of the room not quite middle enough

Creep to the edge of dreams,
A finger in a mouth - picking about,
Tapping time away - looking down

Sunlight peeks through the curtain of clouds,
Steam trails rising - cups of warm mediums,
Dust collects the friends of neglect on all we are

Music plays - ripples of sound in time,
Hearing, heard, hardly,
Stands to hold the contents of our lives

Thoughts - again the loving lassoing of the fleeting,
Bodies coalescing - reminders of flesh's mortality living upon us,
Harmonizing lines blending the energies of two or more

These things I do see,
See these things do I,
Eyes do not - and the heart will.

bliss In blossom

I feel compelled to write today, this morning. Those that know me see a non-serious side in my daily doings. Those that read, perhaps this blog, get a sense of a serious side, spiritually evolving in its discourse.

As I eased into a content space post-breakfast at a local cafe favorite of mine, I was drawn to the television. On it the Olympics were unfolding. Generally I am avoidant of overtly sensational on-goings, and yet the way the figure skating pair moved spoke passion to me, my perceiving and curious consciousness. I was transfixed. There could have been a fire in the corner of the cafe and I would have looked, shrugged indifferently, and returned to the flowering plant of passion on display.

The way he moved and she followed, begging a transition to her lead and his following. Their bodies, speaking words only partially explainable in terms of written English, coalescing over and past one another - mirroring a beautiful process in blossoming flow. The enraptured look on their faces as they completed a series of complex, rehearsed movements, the euphoria it conveyed - temporarily invulnerable - appearing to be in a state of shared bliss.

Bliss, that undying fervor in singular pursuit of that which entices. The way it follows, cascading down the hill, skidding to stand erect and confidant upon the doorstep of opportunity: mind tucked and heart open. Risk, a non-thought easily set-aside for the juncture that could ensue. This is me, to a degree, and you as well? Are we all not driven by some sort of passion? Some put-your-thumb-on-it-and-know-it-to-be-true situation we would gladly throw ourselves into.

I pause, remarking at these statements, the facts I say are true for me. I am a passionate person, yes. And, while I have an easy-going nature going-on with my general demeanor, I am deeply driven to explore the caverns of a shared vein of rapture with a woman. Trusting that they will meet in parallel ways and in the resulting explosion of colorless sights, liberated emotions and bliss, that all will be right despite the world's propensity to implode around us.

Perhaps this is what blinds me to the energy I give, often expecting nothing in return, knowing that I have been given to, and thus I can give, give and give again to feel still full and content. Though, where is the line, the burst in the pipes, the breach in the dike? And, how shall I negotiate it?

A habitual line-crosser, I feel I have a large expanse of comfort for being out there.

"He lives in a van down by the river." Kevin, the security guy at the hotel attached to the building I work in, says. He enjoys announcing to bystanders that I live in a van, which is subsequently close to the river, yes, though not quite by it per say. Alas, the zeal and thirst for what life contains, explored through the medium of a movable, metal rectangle on wheels, this is what I crave.

It feels like I could explode some days, with joy, with a fucking awesome feeling of love for the opportunity that I have. Sitting here, I realize I wake up each morning and that I'm am so fucking fortunate to be alive again! Sure, we control a portion of our lives, and then, there is this undetermined, trusted part that is. Intuition speaks, and I'm learning to trust as my listening and understanding to the wisdom being shared in whispers under my conscious thought evolves.

Last night, as I was rushing to change after work, mentally tick-tocking the timer of performance's measurement, I noticed a subtle, guided assurance that I would have time, despite the clock - human's feeble tracking of the mundane. Caught-up in my fury, my tornado of faux Ego-derived expectations, I finished my wardrobe adjustment and was on a quick jog down the hall to catch the shuttle bus down the mountain only to find it hadn't arrived yet. I heard and I didn't fully trust.

Such is the unfolding joy of another night, another day of living. I sit here, supposing I'll never be short of opportunities to marvel at the magnificent proportion of life that I can and never will control. So much is out of my fathoming - what a relief! Thank you for this bliss.

Your love continues, day after day - despite me, my faults, my erroneous lenses - and through your love I am learning.

Thank you again,
Alan

Losing a Sole: overtones of hard to easy

One never seems to imagine the day they may lose their sole; nor how they would react. So too, was this experience for me.

The wall facing me each day before I commute to work looked slightly different today. A heavy dosage of continuous snowy weather inundated the area I call home for winter, netting some 2 feet or more of accumulation in 48 hours - sending connoisseurs of the powdery stuff scrambling for an opportunity with Mother Nature. Perhaps that is why the 3 miles of bike path between my van home and work was not plowed; that, or the pressing needs of the township were not primarily concerned with secondary recreation trails.

Nonetheless, when one sees a figurative wall, their mettle either dictates an impulsive retreat or an intuitive idea to move up and over, around, or through the wall. There exists a quote to this effect that my mother used to have taped up to the cupboard in the kitchen, and I never imagined how it would inspire me later in life.

A bike ride was out, the snow far too deep; why not ski to work? A simple, adventurous idea. Yet, a solution to moving past the wall I was faced with. Driving to work was just too easy. I have lived long enough with myself, knowing that I find a certain pleasure in submitting myself to challenging situations. The overtones of this ring true to my relationships - how I push them, straining the other and myself , as to see how they can stretch, grow, and still have an unparalleled strength. A loving bond that stands tall like a robust tree, mindfully swaying and not breaking in a strong wind.

The late 80s model of Rossignol cross country skis, skinny and long, on my booted feet wait my input. A gift from my brother-in-law, this is the first season I have used them - thus, the manner in which they will function, and for how long they will for the distance I intend to go, is a gamble with the faceless unknown. These things, though, do not cross my consciousness; it is only through reflection that I realize the extent to which I trust blindly in the great power watching over - or is it also just a general trust in life?

Two days prior, leisure was the course of my afternoon. Despite the general lack of sleep from late nights with a kindred soul, I was fully feeling stoked on another day of blessed life. The idea of walking through the snow to a friend's house and back to do laundry and hang out seemed foolish. Out came the skis from the rocketbox atop the van, on the boots went - purple in their throwback memories to the scene of 1980s cross country ski touring. Off I went, gliding, rekindling knowledge of the technique necessary. My legs and arms feeling strong as they created momentum; my mind clear and excited about playing in the snow; my spirit soaring. All seems literally forward moving, until my sole gives away.

"Oh man. OK ... I can figure this out."

The certain wall of tomorrow's time faces me. I am tripping into the future, and now I am without sole. What will I do?

Again, that blind trust in life. That, what will happen, will happen! I intended to ski to work the next day, and now my boot sole is completely beyond repair. Seeking and succeeding to not create self-limiting thoughts, I register nothing on the topic. To take the harder road and be in the present moment, occupied with a conscious silence that comes easier with patience and practice.

Intuition speaks, I listen. That guide that insinuates and accentuates loving and accepting moments of uncertainty. Leaving me to know rather than create, I hear and preview my options ahead: tomorrow, I will look at the local thrift store across the street, and if not there then the gear store next door. Somehow, something will work out! Thrift store to gear store and back, I settle on the cross country ski boots one size too small - figuring to make best with what I am blessed to accept.

New sole intact, I surmount the wall of today's challenge. Registering a grateful, conscious presence within me for how things just work out.

The day passes, and with the few hours remaining before sleep - that blissfully unconscious communication with the infinite - I take the time to type, pulling down fleeting thoughts that carry a resounding overtone of gratefulness for great-full moments in life.

Thank you, once again today, for your love.

Alan

Be Wild, Be Impromptu

Some days it appears, to the astute viewpoint of a dear friend, that I live my life in a reversing fashion: settling the whimsical desires of youth at an earlier age of life. Trading establishment and the desire, that many adults achieve through the hoops and hurdles in life, to be "settled and stable," relinquishing adventurous offerings of the midlife crisis to just that, a midlife point.

In remarks about her father, a dear friend shared with me that he was wishing he did this or that differently when he was younger - feeling regretful in his age. I understand that hindsight is seen as 20/20; or, as I like to say, 50/50: fifty percent of one or fifty percent of the other. Often, as we see through the lens of age and maturity, we wished we would have seen clearer, chosen the other fifty percent of possibilities; traded our cards for those cards, instead.

With this type of thinking, what does it do for us? And, how do we go about feeling empowered in our current course? How, then, are we thus removed from our current stasis, and ability to act in stability?

I feel trusting, perhaps honest, about the future. My hair cut is not going to change; I don't imagine buying some piece of property in the islands somewhere (unless it is really as good as it sounds), nor do I see myself jumping on the brakes and yanking the wheel to try and reverse the course my life is taking.

I say, what is, is!

Spontaneity, something I revel in. With roots tied in loving friendships and seasonal jobs, I always seem to have an avenue of escape if needed. Dualistically choosing a fitting fifty percent over the other. Perhaps this gets at our primal roots as humans - always keeping a safety valve in sight or mind.

Ever wonder why you prefer to sit with your back towards the wall and your eyes on the entrances? Why you find yourself distrusting, and feeling anxious, in a new situation you know to be safe? Chances are favorable that you are experiencing some primal upheaval within. Connecting with an innate survival mechanism that was born, not bred, into you - regardless of your conscious mind.

It is something I have been drawn to explore more of: why I choose a parking spot for the van in a quiet corner; the bike ride home from work, sans headlamp, on a cold, starry night; the flirtatious and not committing association I have with stuff I own; and, the lifestyle I desire to live, placing me in the wilds more than the tamed existence of everyday human this, human that.

This to me feels like the nutshell in life that I trace with curious fingers - sometimes day after day. I am not waiting for some magical unseen point where my boiling point has been reached and I scream out, like the tea kettle upon hot stove, lashing and leaping from one end of the spectrum to the other for sake of expression. I desire to express now, here! Each day of living, loving and breathing!

I acknowledge deep roots with something. Often times my familial roots give me the brazen feeling to branch out, knowing that I have a loving support system to catch me, should I fall from the tree tops. And, even though the pile of leaves looks enticing to fall into, I would rather acknowledge its potential padding, than need feel it. Perhaps this is how I judge myself, how I assess where I am, and where I am headed.

A roller coaster ride to some who know me, a thrilling ride worth the admission ticket to others. And, to sit here and read how I seem to flow, I reach a point of perspective, witnessing how my life is easy for me - because I am mostly with just me - and challenging for another in my themed life of undulations.

And then, I channel into something - her - this drawing creature that paws at my heart, pulls at my physical form to return to; a saturated and steeped-in something, continually mysterious existence, that I cannot deny; the underlying, fundamental love of mine that feeds my branching out: the wild Wilds.

And for this, I am grateful.

-Alan

"Life Marches On"

Listen Here:
 

In the country
The farms and the orchards swell
With oranges and peaches
A little bit of truth as well

In the city
Politicians beat their drum
All the suits come a runnin'
It's all degeneration

Life Marches On
Life Marches On
Life Marches On

In the country
Everybody thinks we're dumb
But we built the fire
Why'd you come and get you some?

In the city, skyscrapers touch the sky
What's the use in being so high up
When it's only gonna bleed you dry?

Life Marches On
Life Marches On
Life Marches On

In the country
The stars shine brighter
Than in the city
In the country
In the country

In the city
I turn on the radio
Only leaves me down with the question:
What happened to our generation?

Life Marches On
Life Marches On
Life Marches On
Oh yeah, yeah
Life Marches On
Oh yeah
Life Marches On
Life Marches On
Life Marches On

Warm tea in Winter's time

The escaping vapor of heat from the tea cup sitting upon the table swirls into the warmed inside air of the cafe. I recognize this familiar pattern of vapor's levity upward, seen in the chilly air of winter. Laying in the back of the van this morning, captivated and content in my prone form, smothered in a warm down sleeping bag, observant of the twirling vapor trail issuing from my mouth - existing in a space of being, just being.

An hour later, I feel in the midst of this space still, with no definable future boundaries, only a beginning point to the space; perhaps another marker in the sand, so-to-speak. Call this an epoch and I would not argue with you. Call it a session with trail and error and I would feel fully supportive of that notion.


A month-long relationship is now over. Not seeming to find a middle ground, from which I was willing to compromise with, I chose to walk away. Inevitably, all things end. This is nothing unusual to admit, though, do I take comfort in this thought of endings?

The snow of winter's time falls outside, light in its dusty dance downward. Fueled by a slight wind from the Northwest, I admit privilege of being inside and out of the van, my winter home, for this space of time before an afternoon work shift. With this freedom, I feel content - something I know to be easy for me - when I am with just myself. At my mother's remarks last evening on the phone, I recognize the sentiment I take in being with myself - a comfort I've watched develop conversely with age. And, I acknowledge how that can shift - though, am I too particular to shift when the situation seems right?

I often listen to music when writing, finding comfort in the out-pour of what is my current mental reality. Whilst composing today, Rain Song, by Led Zeppelin came onto my music player. The last set of lyrics holds me, pulls me into a world of thought:


These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall;
This is the wonder of devotion - I see the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient - Upon us all a little rain must fall.

Perhaps into a world of cerebral comfort. And, I will not fight it. For, from inside this comfort, I have only to expand out -  and out again - into the world I live in. Smiling and greeting it by its appearance to my heart: a grateful and overflowing cup of privilege! Just like the cup of tea, steaming and welcoming with warmth from the cold. 

For this, I continually feel thankful; I have everything I truly need, and realize the details of desire yet to be worked out, future-tense. 

Thank you for your love and vested interest in my life - again and again.

Alan 

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).