The Warm Pre-summer Drizzle

The leaves are out again. Their presence brings about a renewal of life. Presently, a warm drizzle wafts down from above. Today reminds me of Pennsylvania.

~ I finished my first year of university. I was down about leaving Colorado, but excited about a journey that brought me back to something more fulfilling and meaningful. It was an adventure for a purpose, but it meandered in a grand way. I had met a kindred spirit (the first I had met in my 19 years). We had written letters back and forth since meeting. It was a rambling poetic prose that fed from the vigor of our youth and expression of two poetic hearts. Back then, I thought I was in love. I had never met another kindred. I was determined to find out what it all meant.

Very soon, I found myself a summer camp counselor in the Poconos. I embarked on four hour trips to see this kindred spirit who was in actuality, a very sharp and shy contrast from her words. We met the first time on an island bridge in the fog. We met then and only one time since. Our friendship has survived, however, within the same kindred prose. Other times I remember, were the days I spent on the Delaware, days sailing with my kids, the mid-afternoon runs, the jaunts with the French gymnastics coach while I practiced my then, more practiced French, the sparring with the karate instructor, and the random adventures with my Scottish friend, Si. Life was new and bewildering. I had never been out East. I felt out of place, but at one in the midst of so much drive and ambition. ~

And now I feel that I sit here, at a crossroads in my life. Many people become more distant. I am getting older and hopefully wiser. I am forgiving myself for so many mistakes. For they have crafted my heart to see the world through this unique lens. 

An ode to the adventurous, cantankerous spirit

Why do people band together expectant of receiving benefits - benefits till this point that were only imagined never a reality? Why are any of us entitled to expect more from this life than just the ordinary? Why should we carve a path of our own, seek out the things that will make us stronger, more complete?

We are entitled because we breathe. We walk this earth and our conscious state should not succumb to the mundane.

I see a pattern forming. As life gets less dangerous, less mysterious, we lose more and more of ourselves. The bars of this prison get closer and closer. Why travel another world away when we read about it, listen to it and see it on Google.com? Why find a person of another culture when we can see him on a popular sitcom?

If we choose to live in the real world, full of peaks and troughs, it will be a rougher road. Yet! What are we here for? To breathe for the simple pleasure of breathing? NO! We are here to feel the pain, the anguish, the love, the depth of appreciation, the goose bumps, the chills, the mystery and rhythm that pervades life. If one chooses the "safe" known path, she will miss out on all this.

It's better with an open heart.

"So if ever someone says to you, "Life isn't fair. Get used to it." Then you should say, "Well, it might be, if folks like you would let it be."

It's a lot easier to be cold, but it's not life. I'd rather just work through the pain finally. It's clear she doesn't want me now. It takes a lot of courage to admit I was wrong, and to lower myself, accepting my faults. Yet this is the only way I'll get back to my true self. I could care less what people think. I wish she wouldn't have said  what she said. I wish she didn't ignore me now. The only things she says back to me are things I've done wrong. I guess that is fair enough. In the long run, I'd rather see it for how it is.

I went climbing today and then on a run. It felt good to be surrounded by people I knew, focusing on the rock and my movements. I climbed harder than usual and some good inner strength came back. I didn't fear the falls. I just took them.

I feel good that I finally told her how I felt. I needed to. It's a fair deal, I guess, that she doesn't have to even respond. I imagine she's just afraid to tell me how it really is. Acceptance can be a hazy mess sometimes. I always like to play the optimist, but I can see the end. I can see it and when I can accept it, I guess I can move on and keep my feelings with me this time. Last time, I just buried them with coldness. I knew I still cared, but I just buried them and accepted it as it couldn't be. Now it seems to be over. I guess I just wanted to hear it from her so I could move on with my feelings.

A run in the cold rain

To feel the first moments of a run while the rain came down and the cold shook my limbs was not a definite mystery. My cool muscles twitched nervously without rhythm. My lungs felt the shock of the cool air and my bald head felt the pain as the wind and cold greeted it in sudden gusts.

A few moments occurred where I sat in my car and wondered if the five miles in these conditions were really worth it. I knew it would only be the first half mile that would be painful. After this point, my joints and muscles would be properly warm, and I would fall into a rhythm. I also knew that last night while I sat in bed trying to fall asleep, I longed to run and run. I longed to reach out and touch the inner rhythms of my mind. I have to start realizing the value of things.

So many times, the moment, the place, the person is lost on us.

How dare I then not run! How dare I shrink away from life again? What am I here for but to live and breathe, to feel the pulse of life and vivacity of how extremely good and bad it can be?

Acceptance and patience are not virtues of mine. I accept too much then too little. I never wait long enough or when the time counts I wait too long. There are things I need from this life. I should move more swiftly in the present and the future. The past is past.

Steinbeck is a good friend.

With my mind wrapped around Steinbeck, I sit back against my bed and feel the cool breeze. I can't think of a better way to spend the night. George Washington is credited with the quote, "It is far better to be alone than to be in bad company." I doubt he was the first to say it. It must be a timeless sentiment. I am really tired of the scene here in Carbondale.

I can't wait to strike out onto the rock this summer. It poured tonight. So I doubt the rock will be dry tomorrow. Besides, I have too much work to get done. Tomorrow night is another story though. I'm going to snag a campsite somewhere. I know of a few backcountry sites that may be free and that would give me some more solitude. Or I could just settle on any site. I doubt with it dipping near 40, there will be much competition (maybe in Jackson). 

I could want for a thousand things right now, but it's just not worth it. I have a feeling that if I stick to my guns, people will be sorry for doubting me. I think if I stick to my guns, I will have no reason to doubt myself. Besides, life is just more fun and fulfilling this way.

The Power to Help a Person (never forget who I am)

I always seem to have the weirdest dreams.

~I saved a small girl. Her parents were horrible people. They yelled at her constantly. They yelled such negative things as parents often do when they seem to put the burden of never wanting kids directly on their kids. While sobbing uncontrollably, the small girl walked into the busy street. I felt tense as I watched car after car dodge her. Then, I could stand still no longer. I rushed into the traffic and snatched her up.

I saved her, and then I refused to give her up. I told her I would show her a way to find happiness. I refused to let society make yet another person miserable.~

This dream reminds me of something. First, I should not give up. There are people who need me to get through this. There are people who suffer, and I cannot help them if I am weak. Second, I must keep that genuine part of my soul alive. I love to help people. It is a major part of me. I have to keep it even if it hurts me, even if I make no money nor have a family of my own. I am not doing this for some obscure reason. I am doing it for every reason.

Emotions .... bleh.

I guess it doesn't have to be worth anything. At least it is sunny and warm outside.

I hate the phrase, "You'll find the right girl." I hate it especially coming from an ex who said she still loved me the night before. People are so fickle and inconsistent. Why does it even matter to me so much? Sometimes, I hate my emotional weakness.


It's time to see it for how it is: 

1. I need to start believing in myself again. 
2. Everything will fall into place.
3. Truth exists.
4. The people who abandon you weren't worth it. They will never be worth it. 
5. Every day is a new chance to find what I need from life.

Songs that will keep me going.

1. Let Me Be - Xavier Rudd
2. Black Rock - O.A.R. 
3. Hey Hey - Dispatch
4. True Believers - Bouncing Souls
5. Gone - Bouncing Souls
6. Home - O.A.R.
7. Shut It Down - MxPx
8. 3.2 - Hot Buttered Rum
9. Solace - Xavier Rudd
10. Teenage Riot - The Ataris
11. Tightrope - Orange 9mm
12. KRS One - Sublime
13. Redemption Song - Bob Marley
14. Chicago - Sufjan Stevens
15. Misfits - T.E.B.

Slow it down

Thank you, Mr. Monet for a painting like Venice at Twilight. It is the culmination of slow and deliberate work. It reminds me that my hand must also move with slow, careful, deliberate strokes. For I so fear that something will pass me by that I move without the careful navigation that life sometimes necessitates.

I must take a deep breath, slow it down and steer my ship out to sea. 

Bluegrass makes my heart smile

Be Loud. Let your colors show.

Be Loud. Let the others know. First a whisper then it grows.

Can you feel it ?

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." - RWE

I flop out of bed and into the shower. I wash away all the "old nonsense."	This day will give me something new. It will come with all the adventures within the realm of possibility. All I have to do is keep my eyes open.	No more time to wish. Just time to think and act. Actions will decide everything.

Rambles from the office as I stare out the window.

Late night as I walk in trees' shadows cast by the yellow lights, my mind feels as free as the wind. The silence seeps out from each branch. It covers my overworked, frantic mind. It silences it as well.

I walk in these warming nights and recover a part of myself. We live in such a crazy world. We surround ourselves with media at every point. I spend the day near a computer, whether it is designing, composing or writing. I frantically pour through research articles, law journals and court cases. I have to decipher this complex code of each word and phrase with a contextual history. It is challenging. It is invigorating.

YET! YET!

If we don't allow our brains to rest, what use are we tomorrow? Tomorrow I would only be half the man. Tomorrow, I may not even be a tenth of the man. How many years did it take for me to realize the importance of letting my brain rest, of knowing it would take more than a beer and sometimes a beer would be no rest at all? How many days did it take to realize that some of the most strenuous and physical things were the greatest rest for my brain? A hardworking man may feel pain in his bones. Yet, he feels a deepening of the mind.

I feel a productive day coming on tomorrow. It is 8pm. I'm still here in the office. Yet for some reason I'm not too tired ... I feel hope gaining in my heart. I deleted my Facebook more than a week ago. I feel a rush of life returning with the trees' new buds.

A hopeless, wandering soul

I slid down and fell beside you. I didn't know you. Then I knew you in a second, and as you laid your head on my shoulder, you said, "I think it's going to be OK now."

And This was the destined two not finding anything other than solace in another. A feeling of courage crept into both hearts and spread outward in an emancipation of joy, a bond formed and not forgotten.  It was a bond to laugh at the world and maybe even almost destroy itself in the torrent - a bond felt in the midst of this perennial storm.

Atoms jumped from one to another as if not even a single difference existed. For love made us the same element crafted and designed a million years ago for just this purpose.

And I slid beside you and accepted it. It was a desire fed from a common isolation in a world of billions.

Innocence.

I want to redefine Innocence.

Does it matter where one comes from? If I were to ask a friend about his early days in Africa, and he told me about the slaughter of his family, his days as a child soldier and all the horrible atrocities, could I then say "this man has lost his innocence?" Is the love of a woman who has never slept with another man more valuable than one who has slept  with many men, maybe even some women? Is someone who never got lost, never felt down, never indulged in some self-destructive act more valuable than I?

I say no, not necessarily.

How I hold my head in the morning is innocence. It is the bright optimism gleaming from the faces of the youth as they stare up at us wondering what the world will hold. It is the moment of optimism in a sea of despair.

When I awoke this morning, I knew I had again captured a piece of my innocence. I wanted to believe in myself again and scour the world for all the hope and imagination I could rustle up. I didn't draw this from another, but rather from my imagination as I dreamt. For when my eyelids fell, someone came to me with all the optimism and character of an innocent. She inspired me again to care, to be myself, to listen to the world and try to see the goodness in it all. Yet not all was as it seemed. As we became closer in the dream, she told me she had secrets which she could never tell me. Deep secrets that would ruin our time. Even so, I pressed her to tell me. I said I needed to know. (My fear of secrets and silly lies even rears ugly in my dreams.) She told me that she had been with many people before me. She told me she used to be a stripper. She wept uncontrollably. Was all lost now? Could I be inspired to be innocent by one who was clearly not so? NO! She was innocent! She believed in the optimism to smile, to believe, to be her best and no matter what past pushed her down, she had the inspiration and courage to find her true self again.  AND at least to me, THAT is the real quality of life. When we have gone down such a path and feel steam building in our heart to break free and be just a moment in our true forms again ... When we have had enough ... When we peer out again knowing what damage the ravages of love has caused before ... When we stop believing the naysayers ... When we stop accepting the table scraps from those who say we should accept things for the way they are ... When it is in your heart and you feel that push for freedom ...

Then dance, sing, love uncontrollably, revolt! Whatever a person must do. I, for one, will not believe in innocence being a part of a singular moment only caught then lost. For we are all fading in and out of our innocence.

Why is it that I cannot accept the ordinary?

When I was still very young, I ventured out into a herd of cattle to really see if those white things (salt licks) were the same salt that I ate at the kitchen table. I trespassed on all the land near mine (and even some not so much) in search of apple orchards after stumbling on some one day. I stole grapes from a family friend's small vineyard, even after she protested that I was doing so.

When I was a bit older, I ran wildly down the streets. I sat up games racing neighborhood kids to the bus stop from further and further points. When we saw the bus on the horizon, we would all start running. If a kid was slow, he would miss the bus. Someone always seemed to miss the bus. I sometimes missed the bus. I wanted everything wildly and blindly. I wanted life in the most pure sense.

Then I got older and realized the ephemeral nature of things. I fell in love with the first girl who appreciated my poetry. I lived and died by her word, and when she broke my  heart I could not understand. At the same time, I started losing key family members to disease and accident. Shocking how everything changed so fast in those days! I crawled into a shell for a bit, but found my self again while in Colorado. My family and the people I met there kindled my wonder and hope. I picked my head out of the books and started to try to personify my favorite protagonists. Adventure seemed to follow me in those days. I spent the school year in Illinois waiting for my return to my Colorado. Meanwhile, I would buy calling cards with my own saved money from working various jobs to call those friends whom I left in Colorado. On many occasions, I begged my mom to let me move, to let me find another way outside the Midwest.

So there are my foundations ... along with many life lessons on loss, pain, coldness, love, tenacity, loyalty, drive, failure, bullying, fighting, education v. knowledge, imagination and spirituality (back then only known as religion).

So that is why I cannot accept the ordinary. I cannot sign up for your casual marriage, casual kids, casual job and Friday night potlucks, though at times I do crave to fall in the fold and accept this. I want a love that will set the other hearts ablaze with jealousy. I want a love with solid foundations with kids who will know if nothing else that their parents love them and they love each other. I hate to see the pain being brought into all of these families by an inability to stand one another. I also do not want to live in a place where adventure is casual, where the climbs are low and the threat of failure may mean just a few nights in the woods or a sprung ankle. I want to feel the pinch of death as I start on my journey. I want my logical nature to fend off the wild, the uncontrollable. I want my ability to survive to hold out over the threat of death. I do not want to feel myself becoming soft. I would also like to continue on my path of knowledge. I do not want to feel my mind slipping into the apathetic malaise that plagues our society.

Lately, I think I have let go of a lot of this. Thought maybe I could just try to fail and accept the ordinary. Saying that I lost too much this time ... Saying that I always lose so much in my journeys. But I returned to my place of solace and found myself again. I guess my true nature was sitting on top of some granite peak, chilling out, waiting for me to come back to it. I like to think it could have set up there in the cool breeze, gaining composure and strength while the what was left fought my demons.

Please, let me find a path to optimism among those who will support me. Let me find the things I really crave from life. Let me find the courage to help those around me. Let me find the strength to persevere and keep hold of my true self.

A Western Wind

It is the possibility that brought me back. The jutting slab of the granite holds the aesthetic sense of my mind. The open sky pours sunshine from a thousand feet closer. The intensity burns my head. Later at night, the cold rushes in and spreads against the land. It would be warm in summer. It is chilly with frost. I walk down small streets and catch eyes gleaming up into mine. Yet this time I do not return the gaze.

I have changed since my last visit. I am more optimistic and sadly more realistic. I wish to shuck off the outer protective skin that keeps me distant from so many. Yet, I know it is this skin that is not easily removed for just anybody. It is this skin that will keep me safe until I can have my next adventure, until I can help out that next person, until I can find the great depths of my soul sustained. This trip has confirmed yet again that I do not belong in the Midwest. I am holding my breath there, afraid to breathe, terrified to speak, to cheer, to risk ... fearful of life.

I dreamt last night of a certain possibility. Only here would I have the bravado to think I could attain this. That is why I must keep striving and escape the confines of the Midwest. It is only outside of that place that I can imagine and see myself for who I am. 

Thirsty

I step back from this mess. I take a breath. It is this breath that sustains me. I keep asking myself as I lay here not able to sleep, "How did I get into this mess? And since when did I ever need their validation?"

Damn it, man. I am trying. Yet, I have lost so much ... so much ... thus far in the process. So much of me ... so much of my soul. It seems sometimes that I am just trying to get pieces of it back. I gotta believe something is there in the future. I have to believe that some day the solidness of great friendships, good spirit and aesthetic scenery may  ...

I have tasted what life can be. I have lived with purpose and direction. I have felt wild, loose and free. I have roared back in the faces of those who would keep me down. I have laughed uncontrollably and spilt tears of joy. I have loved enough to stand on the edge of the precipice, uncontrollably languishing for the other. 

Don't write me off yet.

Float

"Live. That's all you can."

I wish sometimes I could do better. I hope I can survive all this. Each day, I put my head down and hope I can keep moving without thinking too much about it all. I'm always the bad guy. I'm always the one apologizing to others for my actions. Yet, I am just trying to live. I am tired of always getting left in the dust. For when I am weakest, the people who are closest always disappear.

I hope I find the strength to finish all this. I hope I find the strength to keep moving until I can stand on some more solid ground. I hope those around me can understand that I can afford no luxury of having anyone close to me.

"Don't ... Don't sink the boat that you built to keep afloat."

Stay close to your soul. Don't stray too far.

Life pulls at us to be great, to breathe and live in the context of a million-year plan to bring the single entity of our consciousness into being. How dare we allow ourselves to be pulled into the deluge of the masses!

As I realize that I am a different type of man, yearning for the fresh perspective of new experiences in different places among different peoples, I bury myself in the context of the written word and feel alive again. My studies grow exponentially, and I feel myself being turned down the path of more and more education, more and more work and toil - all in the name of something I cannot yet put my hands on. I feel it will not lead to any great income or adventures. Instead, I think it is a journey that has unfolded before my eyes. And as a boat upon the ever-changing river, I flow slowly to that great rolling sea.

I recently sat at the bottom of a cliff and thought how I wished not to be afraid this time, to pull hard, feel the crease and fold of the rock against my bare hands, and allow my soul to face the great uncertainty of a dangerous situation. I let this feeling slip from time to time, but feel it even more when it happens. I feel everything when I allow my soul to breathe and be itself. To face danger, to face the uncertainty of something without prior knowledge, knowing it could destroy me - this is the true path self discovery. In this, I find a source of power. I guess this is the true trick to life. To laugh in the face of a dangerous, unforgiving world. One should not give an inch to fear. For it is fear that holds the true shackles.

My compass

How will I remember these days? Will I, should I, remind myself how dark my outlook had become? Should I tell of the times, sitting alone in my apartment, that I looked dismally into the future - seeing future travails and wondering if I had the strength, the composure to deal with a new onslaught?

Simply, I know I must. I must remind myself of the depths I have allowed myself to fall.  I must even now see the dark walls of that abyss. I must know that I could climb from it a thousand times. I must also remind myself of the pain, the agony of watching everything slip away.

Zion was my savior. Yet, it was a savior without a compass. It merely gave me the strength to look around and pick a direction. I still remained in the abyss. I simply saw a glimmer of hope in it all. And for me, a glimmer shall always be enough to inspire my heart to give its all again.

Today, I awoke as a man seeing hope again. I saw hope in my future, in my direction. I could actually see a direction for myself. I could see a path. For I have finally found my compass. It was a breath of more than hope. Hope is what makes us gather that last bit of strength for the journey ahead. No, it was not just hope this time. I found my compass, and it gave me strength. Strength that allows me to run stronger and faster, to take on more and be more confident in my movements. Hopefully, it has opened the door to my heart (and not just in a place as beautiful as Zion). Hopefully, it will give me the strength to keep my heart open always and be who I am even when this world tries to bare its jagged teeth and iron jaws. 

I point my compass now towards my master's, my juris doctorate, a family, an existence of helping others and building even one thing that could help at least one other fellow person. 

Persevere!

Perseverance is key. For when no one stands beside you, you shall stand beside yourself.

Ode to the hopeful awakening.

I traveled as a man

I burned through the wounds of life

as flesh rotted under old cuts and burns

tears relinquished to my clenched jaw

“Hold. Hold,” said my fellow man

Thud, thump … my heart … thud, thump

Encased, peering outward but stuck,

My face pressed against smudged glass,

I watched those free spirits dance in

Wild, uncontrolled, jovial exuberance,

“Waste not the world,” said they.

Thud … thump … my heart … thud, thump

Vapid entertainers sought my favor

dimmed the raging fires inside

pouring barrels of icy disenchantment

until only a cerulean luminescence remained

“Why bother,” said my friends.

Thud … thump … my heart … thud … thump

Fear tracked my path

It hovered over the ledge of my climb

bellowing shrill cries that bled my core,

I gasped and an erratic shaking started,

“You are mine,” said fear.

Thud, Thud, … my heart … Thud, thump.

Drifting downward as a not a man,

I tensed into a static discipline,

Flowing where Fear allowed,

Ripped and shredded in the torrent,

“Flow. Just flow,” said the passersby.

Thump, thud … my heart … thump, thud.

A final breath filled me,

My body drifted along and downward,

Tumbling against the granite boulders,

Eyes open but not awake,

“Fight,” a voice said. “Fight.”

Thud, thump … my heart … thud, thump.

Inward, my mind wandered over that icy crevasse

I stabbed blindly with my ice axe,

Searching  for inward greatness, shards forgotten

Darkness and light intermixed

“Youth is error,” said old men.

Thud, thump … my heart … thud, thump.

Writhing, wretched strokes upon strokes,

Pushing against and along and upward,

to reach out and feel the surface again, breathe the air,

Some of me lost, but dare I go down again?

“Build new and hold,” said I.

Thud, Thump … my heart … Thud, Thump

What bugs me at night.

It is funny for a man to think we are not at war. For what is it to be at war? It is an armed conflict between parties. And we are all armed. We are armed with our wits, alliances, bank accounts, access to resources, access to knowledge, funny spirits, mean spirits etc. We are a substance of this world. This is a wild world still. Some fight for more money, more power, more might. Some fight for their children's futures. Some fight for love alone. It is a love for people, for nature, for harmony, for justice, for salvation, for redemption, for the inner spirit that makes us great. Though, some do not get as far as being able to fight for love. Some must continually fight for an existence. They look as if they fight for nothing because their fight consists of survival. While some people in developed countries seem to fight for nothing, disenfranchised, stripped of hope, stagnating and yet comfortable in a sense of pervasive social media. A pervasive social media entertains us with psychologically formulated drama or mindlessness. It soothes the pain.

Some call this a game. Yet in this game, the heartbroken and disenfranchised lash out and hurt others or themselves. Others indulge in ceaseless excess. They take this excess from the hands of children who starve. In a game, one can choose to quit, to opt out, to not risk all. This is no game. This is war. Some sit in command positions and push resources towards where they must go. Some are common foot soldiers, held up in the daily boot stomp that is labor only to "get by." Foot soldiers do not step out of line for fear of punishment. They take orders, not give them. Foot soldiers are sometimes forced to push buttons that they know add to their own destruction. Yet, it is for survival, for love of their children and their livelihood that will continue to push that button. Ask a middle manager of a sulfur mining company why he feels comfortable in his career. He will not tell you that it is virtuous to make money while those at the bottom loose their teeth, flesh rotting and driven mad for nickels a day. He will tell you that one must do what needs to be done to support a family.  

This is why freedom matters. True freedom. We pretend here in America that we have freedom. Though, how many men learn a craft or can apply themselves in gratifying hard work? Can most men work hard and see the quality of their work? Do the poor and middle class allow themselves to be funneled into where investors find the best profit margins? We are a society driven by the consumption of crap. And producing that crap is the great men and women of this nation. How many people get up in the morning knowing that they produce nothing of importance or value? We could do so much better with ourselves. Our ancestors escaped this system for a chance to find freedom. They settled the East then the West. They developed a livelihood with ingenuity and craftiness. The world was before them. A person could not tell them that their children would not have a better life. 

I want to work towards a better sense of freedom. I stopped watching television. I want to take my life and develop systems to get people back into the optimistic spirit of freedom.


So where do I stand? I have waited a long time setting outside this system looking for an "in" to make some change. I am so disturbed sometimes at its existence that my life stagnates. I try to focus on climbing, on the chance of love, on my studies or a thesis that may give me the skills to help with this problem. I have been given the role of foot soldier and refused, went AWOL. I went and did things people in my class should not do. I traveled, received education and opportunities. I kept the courage to stand against the system as much as I could. I worked as a volunteer and helped develop some of these systems, but then was forced away by the constant reprisal of my own poverty. I do not yet feel as if I have done enough.

A great quote written on a University building goes, "Be afraid to die until you have won some great victory for humanity."

I dream sometimes. What if I could forget what I know about politics, economics, environmental destruction, world resources and poverty? What if I could have just taken the first job I was offered, received my average U.S. income of 42,000 per year? I could have had a wife by now. I could have had some children by now.

I do not live any glorious life. Nor am I a glorious man. I am just someone who does not have the power to stand up against this system. I am also someone who does not have the power to partake in this system. I am someone constantly struggling to find a path to make some small, minor change in this system. Maybe then I will not feel as if my life is so wasted.

Struggle

Each day I feel a struggle against the cold shell that I envelope around my soul. Life becomes a more barren, boring existence. No excitement, no soul ... friends come and go; they all have their own lives now. Love comes in with the greatest intentions only to be just a passing reminder that everything is ephemeral.

So why believe in anything when everything fades?

Would it be too much just to find something that sparks the passionate fire within me? Would it be too much to believe something could last ... for once?

Autumn Blues

Staring at the wall after a few hours work on a Saturday, I can't help think of Scrooge. Whereas Scrooge's lust for money propelled him away from the people who initially cared, I do the same. Except I lust for freedom and education.

Does it make it any better?

Today has been a horrible day. Last night, a horrible night! I could have been sitting at the Metro in Chicago listening to the quintessential American folk singer strum one for freedom, but instead here I sit ...

a responsible fool.

Thesis Topic

And we walk on ... a million hearts suffering as we push a button that alights a screen. The screen drags away our mortal coil, the very essence of our being that keeps us human. The screen entertains us. Let us avoid the thought of the moment, the day, the reality. Let us not watch as human rights are trampled in foreign lands. Let us not watch as racial slurs spit across our own soil, affecting some of the only people trying to bring about a positive change. 

Instead, let us fall from our glory and be part of the decay.

I say no! I say we cannot stand still! We cannot let this world fall.

Today, I have to pick a research topic for my thesis. (Yikes!) I have something worth researching. It aligns with the cutting edge of science,and it might even be publishable.

Yet ...    YET!

Who does it help? Will it help me live a life that fights the good fight? Will it help me to make an impact or just an income? I know every choice I may make will not be a final decision, but I truly believe this to be a huge decision. I do not want to fall down the path of just turning on the tube and ignoring the real state of the world.

Courage

"where you invest your love. you invest your life" - awake my soul  mumford and sons



It's late. It's hot. Clouds came and went and dribbled little rain. Here I sit and write. I contemplate the truth I have found in pain.

And ... I came out with more and more hope for the human condition.

How many of us turn our pain to anger and our anger to hate! I have suffered, and people have acted deviously against me. And for some time, I began to feed into this same pattern. I began to only want to get out of the poverty, say that maybe humanity was doomed, and wonder ... oh how I did wonder ... if I should ever feel such hope again! And how weak I felt! And how I shuddered at the thought of what the world might bestow. I felt the ravages of the recession come in. I watched as some friends took whatever job they could get, and watch their dreams pass them by while others - criticized as lazy or reckless - held out. I held out and slipped into poverty, watched as things came and went. I tried to help as people died caught up in bad systems as some bureaucrats malingered. I watched and lost faith in my actions. I felt lost.

My days here are not glorious in most regards. I sit wearing my ranger's hat. I collect money and welcome people into the park. I guide over-sized traffic through a narrow tunnel. I deal with people who make poor choices, get angry for poor reasons, drive into oncoming traffic, ask questions that make me question whether they will make it out of the park alive. The heat soars into the 100's. I have trouble finding the ambition to climb. And yet this is the moment of truth.

Will I be able to see the beauty of the moment when all does not seem to be splendid?

YES! I will catch the clouds outline against the crimson rocks. I will watch the California Condors spread their wings out, their fingered feathers creating a masterful pattern against the blue and gray sky. I will remember what this day is worth. For these creatures were nearly gone, and they are back. It is a story of hope. And when I wake up tomorrow, preparing for the next work day, I will take a deep breath and come to the conclusion that it is a miracle that I have been given another day.

A night ago, I held my hand out to another. I asked her if she would come with me and know the world for what it could be, bear the pain, let it take hold and cleanse our souls letting us feel the empathy while still believing that all could be good and right in the world. And I asked her knowing all may not last. I know enough of the world so far that sometimes patterns do not last. Yet I cannot help letting myself get lost in this love. I told myself a long time ago to hold everyone back at a distance, creating a void in my heart none could cross. No matter how much of myself I would give, I'd carry a reserve. Until now, I could not find the courage to tap into this reserve. But I have come to think differently since this journey out West.

It is this reserve that keeps us different. It separates those with courage and those without. I give myself to the world, to this person, unrelenting and knowing very well it could destroy me. This is the courage of being a man. Letting things flow and take course. Letting the fear go and allowing the fall to take place. I have forgiven myself for so much. And in doing this, I have allowed myself to truly love. This post tells all of this! I pour out my heart as if there are no bounds. 

I have weeks left here. Then I am off to pursue a graduate degree in water resources. I have been given a chance to be my same hopeful self of the past. I have allowed myself to be more and more at peace. Let this world do its worst! Let the ravages come, and I will find those little things to love. And I will continue to help people! I will not get selfish with time! I will stand up for the good fight. I will continue to discover this world to the very last. And if my last does not come tonight or tomorrow or the next day, I shall treat those days as miracles. I only ask for the strength to pursue life as it should be pursued.

Faithfully. Hopefully. Treading out onto dangerous waters to know the glory that comes from looking for the best. Jumping off the cliff to know the joy of letting go. Loving without regard for safety. And diving into the muck to save those who have fallen too far to come out.

Let life come. I will not allow myself to back down this time.

"And I've felt so alive."

"And I've never felt so alive," she wrote, little square lines drawn out on a simple piece of cardboard.

The lyrics from a Third Eye Blind song trace around the corners of my mind and paint themselves against my soul. How many times have I felt these lyrics! Or recited them to myself! She seems to do little things like this ... simple in their own rite; amazing in their effect on me. I catch myself so often awash in feelings that I feel I have recaptured a great part of my soul. 

First came Utah, I broke free from my fears to face them head-on, reeling from poverty and personal disaster where it seemed everyone had lost faith in my abilities. So long was I scared that I failed to do those things that needed to be done. I escaped to the West and slowly found my will again.  Second came the ranger position, to touch out and feel the impossible, to grasp a childhood dream, I suddenly felt as if the world was coming alive again with possibility. I knew all the naysayers were wrong, all the pessimists just caught up in the same soul-destroying, fearful path that I stood in for a couple years.

And as if the heaven's opened up and said, "You, sir, have found the path of optimism again, and we shall reward you!" I have stumbled upon a woman of extreme beauty, an exterior charm only outshone by her inner light. She holds my heart in her hands as she laughs at my quirky nature. She plays jokes on me, does not hold back and shares herself. Her optimism carries over to my optimism. When I hold her, I am content. I am alive. Even now I struggle for the words to capture the spirit of the moment.

Even if all should crumble tomorrow. This is the man I am. I am a man with a relentless nature. I yearn for the challenge, for the best part of life, for the best possible solution and the true nature of who we are. I will not settle for things as they are. If  you told me tomorrow, the world is messed up and we should just accept it, I'd call you a coward. For there is a light in us all. And I fear the people who don't let that light shine.

Sunlight

Food poisoning today - feeling puny but oh so lucky. A pint of alka-seltzer sits humbly at the bottom of my stomach. The air outside this little hotel - for some strange reason - smells of sewage. A nagging fly rests on my sandal. He awaits his next annoying onslaught.


The sun sets, but I am not here. I am writing E-mails to a beautiful woman. I am reading books on water resources, and I am starting to see a bright future. Here sunlight can purify water, can clean tents and sleeping bags and can apparently cleanse a soul of most doubt. "Hold on to these moments," I caution myself. "For they will propel you onward. Carry the West. Carry it in your heart."

And Fate is this thing that leaves me wondering. In 12 hours, I came from the darkest point and ventured forth into the brilliant shine of dawn. The sun peaked over the horizon and caught me with its orange stare. So long was it dark, that I was shocked by this revelation. I found myself in a blind stare, embracing those warm rays. Twelve hours ... in such a short time ... I went from being poor and broke with an uncertain future to being a park ranger in a beautiful national park, awarded an assistantship for graduate school and somehow connected to a beautiful soul. 

I am a lucky soul. For even if it should rain a monsoon tomorrow, I shall feel glad to have been so lucky for even a brief time. So I sit tonight, my stomach churning in a violent fervor, happy at life and buoyantly optimistic even if my stomach will not follow in proper suit. 

Let the good times roll.

I won my case. I was offered a graduate assistantship for this upcoming academic year. And something new and exciting also happened. Two are solid and amazing. One is new and a bit frightening. 

Yet, some risks are not only worth taking. They are best lived in the moment, no past, no future in wanton disregard of any safety net. 

This week I will spend some time backpacking on the West Rim, climbing in Zion and working on research. All this while living inside a national park with some of the craziest and most awesome people I have ever met. In some things, I am a hopeless romantic. This summer is set to be one of the greatest. I have not - for the longest time - had so much hope for the future.

:-)

Don't you dare quit on me!

When a river is blocked enough, it becomes a lake. The depth of the lake builds. The banks become serene. Animals migrate toward its banks. It is a lovely state. Nevertheless, this is not the true state of the river. Its true state is its twisting, carving, rapidly flowing nature. It was never supposed to sit in a stationary state. Humanity is also a river. We are a river flowing towards a more perfect existence. We strive for perfection through our religions, by designing new forms of government and experimenting with our current way of being. For when there is a lull, complacence becomes rampant and the river to this liberated existence stagnates.

It is important for us to keep this river flowing. Our humanity sits as a lake. Even though it does appear peaceful and serene, it is not our path! Let us not look at its placid surface as everything downstream dies!

I have started to see the world very differently. There is not much I would not fight against right now. So long have I enjoyed the placid nature of this existence. Who am I, I sometimes wondered, to question the reasoning of the masses? Yet there are so many that are not happy even with this very placid state.

I decided to fight Zion National Park's decision to not work with my VISTA non-competitive status. I could have just rolled over and accepted it. It may have worked better for my career. However, I can bear the injustice no more. Why should people who help the impoverished in other countries or college students be given better status than I, who stayed domestically to help out those who have to suffer while comparing themselves to others who live such luxuriant lifestyles only miles away? I may be no champion to be lionized. However, I will be the gnat that dissents. A gnat's life seems to suit me.

A cool burn

The dry summer heat washes over my heart like an iron. It flattens the wrinkles of struggle and makes creases of the lessons. So much struggle so far ... so much more to come. This is my time to breathe, to let loose the calm nature of my soul, expand my consciousness and bring close those destructive qualities that may hinder my path. 

Today, I do not know if I have two months or six. Whether or not this break lasts, I shall embrace it as a possible existence.

Two days ago, I stood at a belay station looking at a pitch. I was the last to follow and the first to express interest in the lead. It was a traditional route with the last pitch all sport. The bolts more than 20 feet apart in the beginning, along the traverse. I knew I could manage the route, but my head started to deter me from my path. And suddenly, I said "Let's go." And I flashed the route. The scary parts were scary. The first two bolts were pretty exposed. I led out across the wall and came out to the arete, felt the road under me and saw the last bolt was no more.  The crux came and went without notice. One-hundred-forty feet later, I watched little Lego cars drive and honk in the panoramic view of the canyon.

Micro-fractures may still form in this little paradise. Maybe some night while I lie alone - jaded in my quest to find the perfect love - I may find myself wondering if I could ever be that passionate of a lover again. For love without passion is no love at all. So I will close my eyes and be hopeful.

Hope is a guiding light for a wandering soul. 

Faith

We must remember those habits that bring us closer to our own true selves. Utah has forced me to give up many things that are escapist in nature at a time when I may have depended on them. I have also begun to see the value in things I may have not before. My mind grows clear day by day. I see all the possibilities that may exist in my life, and it suddenly starts to look pretty good.

But on a night like this I wonder ... Will I ever love enough to run into the Pacific in December? Will I ever trust another to hold my heart? Will I ever sit drunkenly on a warm summer night and stare into the silhouette of trees, gaping at its artistic magnificence? I want my youthful heart, not fearful, not jaded, not burned ... nothing holding it back and nothing forcing it to be something it is not.

Maybe this is the reason I will not back down this time. I will prove to all that this is no existence if we must force our true natures to conform to the whim of others. I will live my passionate lifestyle. I will regain myself. I will conquer this period of my life through perseverance and dedication. I will also believe in love again some day.

Entitlement (have I any?)

I awake in the morning with hope and as it slowly drags on I begin to think that this will be yet another day wasted. My bank account clean, I survive on the kindness of strangers. I exist in this sad existence over a background check. Why? Have I committed serious crimes? -No. Have I committed crimes that brink on being serious enough to warrant a background check taking five weeks? -No.

Have I committed any crimes at all? 

NO!

Yet here I sit, on the brink of destitution, after I unwittingly believed in something and traveled halfway across the United States yet again. Our government is inefficient. Our government is a waste. And yet I did not choose the private sector this go around. I turned down Korea. I turned down another management position. For what?! A dream of working to conserve our natural resources or make some lasting impact that will be the betterment of humankind?! Damn, I am a fool. A gam of bureaucrats swim in these seas. And I, subjecting myself yet again, have become a victim of apathetic hands.

How much longer before my hands grow apathetic, a symptom of despair.

Gain a sense of composure, man!

Heavy eyelids stare at worn feet guided by an erratic heart. Do all things turn out such? Can I not have a moment of respite? Is it mere insanity that keeps me going with any sense of hope?

I ask myself why I never give up. Even when there is little hope left, why do I strive to move forward? But I know the answer.  The act of retreat is cowardly, the acceptance of mediocrity, fatal. On some runs, my lungs close up on me. I wheeze only moments into it. My face reddens. My heart flutters to keep up. My mind is suddenly torn. Which is better? To stop and allow my body to recover or to finish the set goal even if more than mile more at the same pace? I nearly always finish. The next run is always easier.

I would rather die than give up on my goals of having a worthwhile life. I will not settle for any woman just to be comfortable. I would like to be on fire in love and care about her in a way unparalleled. I will not raise my children to look at their father as one who gave up or did not try hard enough. I will not serve as an example for some who take my failure as a justification of their own slow descent into safe oblivion. I would sooner meet my final fate than succumb to the abysmal ranks of not having any lows at the expense of not having any highs.  

Hope for the best; prepare for the worst

"Don't let them see you cry."  Help I'm Alive - Manchester Orchestra.

I'm going for a late night walk tonight. My roommate lost her ferret tonight. And now her anger bubbles over to me. I am being kicked out of my apartment. I find it frustrating how someone who so blatantly cheats on her boyfriend can come down on me just because I am waiting for the government to clear my background check before I can start as ranger. Craziness persists as I had agreed to pay for the whole summer no matter where I ended up living as a "thank you." Fiscally, getting kicked out makes more sense to me, but I know it is also the end of a friendship and a way of thinking about most people.

I am no longer the Brian of old who willingly tries to see the best in people. I understand everyone has their own demons. Usually, the way they face those demons works its way into their social existence. I also understand that many people can think themselves higher than others, or that some must do this to keep a steady current of self appreciation in their lives. This is a classic argument I first read by Virginia Woolf. One uplifting piece is that I have a place to stay for roughly a week. I am praying that since I am already a week behind on my background check that this will be enough.

So many thoughts scurry through my head on this night. How close I am to homelessness! Yet I am college educated. I have excellent work experience, excellent references, excellent attitude to work and an overall good attitude given all that has happened to me thus far. Yet here I am. It makes me think that this could happen to anyone. And I wonder how I will do if it all falls apart.

 Will I react by losing my psychological composure? Will it make me weaker in the areas of social interactions? Can I face people as a homeless figure? Or will it be yet another experience that makes me stronger?

I have broken once and swore I would never again. People say I need to depend on people when I am down. Nevertheless if history is any indicator on how the future will go, I need to be self reliant and not depend on anyone.

I am a strong leader. I am weak at the hands of others.

Grandfather

I met my grandfather once. Yet it was not him. It was just the shell. He had already started to succumb to Alzheimer's. I shook his hand. He seemed to very happy to finally meet me. I was very glad to meet him. I truly think we would have understood each other. 

I have had the luxury of knowing great men during my short existence.  They raised families, saved others' lives, served in wars, rebelled and kept genuine natures. They also, nearly all of them, lost themselves for a while. But in the end, they always seemed to recover. They inspire me to be a better man, to try harder and not give in to all these damn obstacles.

I will not let them down.

Dark Heart

Dear Miss,

I wish we were friends. For we  - even in those chaotic times - did share a beautiful moment. As our feet slipped on the scree that is youth, mistakes were made. I wish I was wiser and stronger when you knew me. I wish you could have glimpsed into my heart. Tragic, my eyes saw yours so open. That heart, so beautifully dark, did outshine mine.

For now, there is only bitterness and contempt. Yet I still see your photos from time to time. You are smiling and indulging in life. Maybe I was just a tool for you. Maybe in some part of my mind, that is a better existence to be a tool for such a fine heart. But I still wish we could have been friends.

Respectfully,

me

The last $30.

Still waiting for the background check to clear. Please oh please, government bureaucracy, work faster than usual.

I am trained. Everything is set. And now I wait with my last $30. I do not enjoy being broke. My mind seems not to focus on the present. It instead focuses on trying to counter and overcome all of the possible scenarios that may happen. Much still needs to be done though.

And it will.

In my dreams, I am a protector

Imaginative dream

The dark night creeps around the bamboo torches. The light flames flicker off the coarse, deciduous flora. Some sleep on the ground. Some sit and talk. Some run and play. It is a light atmosphere. And I float. I am not really here. This is the pattern in so many dreams, I recall. I mingle in and out of conversations not my own. I watch heroes and heroines venture forth into impossible situations. I usually just watch from afar as my mind's kaleidoscope churns and creates vivid epics.

But tonight is different. A darkness masses on the corner of light. It  creeps in and builds high. I can feel a tsunami ready to hit. And suddenly there is a swarm about. Pandemonium! And I sit and watch still as those under me suffer at its wrath. But something is rising. It comes from deep within, and trickles to the surface.

In a moment, I am not such a passive spirit. I am standing on the ground.

"What do you want from these people? Why are you here? Why do want to cause such pain?" I ask.

The voice responds that it is trying to rid the world of hate, of anger, of mindless lust and of all the idiocy that comes from existence. I reason with it, but it will have none of it. And the clash resumes. The black mass swirls and masses in a place consuming whatever is there. It leaves behind a void. And as I watch, my fury grows. For this is a dream and my world.

And now beside me is a great bear. I feel it tear into the darkness. I feel a primal fear, a primal anger as it attacks. It thrashes at the cloud. Using its mass, it barrels a tunnel through the mass and disappears. And I slowly walk towards it.


The bear lies on the ground. Its body moves in a slow rhythm as giant breathes flow in and out of its mighty lungs. I kneel beside the bear and place one hand down on it. I am crying now. And again, I begin to speak to the mass, and it responds.

"You do not understand the beauty of all that is ugly," I speak in a calm tone, tears silently sliding down my cheeks. "For where in any existence is there ever beauty when not compared to the ugly. And of course the ugliness is easy and the beauty is hard. And of course, I watch as some slide deeper and deeper into the ugly nature. But they can still return. They can, at any moment, achieve their best. I once fell into moments of that ugly nature. And I returned."

The cloud stops. It reverts into a single being. And it speaks.

"I am glad you found your way back to beauty. But hope alone will not destroy me."


~ This dream did not disappear like most. I must come back and analyze this. Funny, the effects of wine and a solid, quiet night.