in the shadow of the mountain, part i.

28 August 2011 § Leave a comment

Three weeks in the Lower 48, and I’m ready to leave forever. Three weeks until I fly to Central America. I wonder if it’ll be far enough.

A good friend of mine is going to Amsterdam, and I’ve half a mind to go as well.

Don’t get me wrong – this place is nice. I’ve been in Washington for most of that time, and I’m so impressed with it I’m considering moving here. A long time from now.

A great thing about travel is that one gets to see the world from many, many perspectives. Specifically (and if you’re open to it), all the perspectives of the people we meet and go to the grocery store with and drive over very tall bridges with. It’s interesting to see how transparent fear is sometimes. I love to travel. It’s my one direction in life: where to go from here, I occasionally ask myself. Point in a direction, and go. As long as it’s not here.

That attitude is fading in me. I can feel it in my bones. Luckily, it’ll take a little while before it reaches my subconscious, and even longer before I let it register in my brain. I’m feeling the need for purpose.

and it’s about time, jazz fish. How many toes can you step on headed toward your destination? If the answer is ‘as few as possible’, we’ve got some work to do. And if it’s ‘as many as possible’, we’ve got even more work to do. This is where Goldilocks comes in.

Remember the story of the little blond girl and the three bears? She had to get it just right, and it took her three tries to find second place. Porridge, beds, etc., right? Some old Alaskan once told me (and I say this when I think I’ve thought of something cool, and rarely did anyone ever say it to me, but the statement lends more credibility to the story) that only a very dumb person would walk into a bear’s place, eat their food, sleep in their bed, and expect the fishkillers to be perfectly understanding of the situation. Do you remember whose bed she found most comfortable? Mama’s. Do you remember whose porridge she found to be the best temperature? Mama’s.

Let’s be straight: you don’t mess with Mama bear. It’s a bad idea. She’ll kill you, and feed you to Baby bear. That includes cute little blond girls.

But good for Goldilocks for recognizing that she was hungry and sleepy, and acting on it. Good for her, because that’s the sort of lesson girls seem to need these days, despite the influence of games like IT GIRL to convince them otherwise. (Look it up; it’s a a good example of an intensely self-destructive society – and which society is that, Mr. Rogers? America, the Beautiful (our first and most important expectation. what a crock.))

On the topic of human development, or the lack of it, let’s go somewhere else: for those of you who don’t know, I was fifteen-year-old bagboy at a grocery store when my best friend killed himself.

It’s a classic story, and not at all unheard of, especially these days, but one that I let define me for a long time. Too long.

But it’s a beautiful day outside, and we can save such stories for next time, can’t we?

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