You know what happens when ya'll try and sprint a marathon?
Uh Huh... about 300 yards into a 26 mile run... you start to hear this wheezin' sound... and then you start thinkin' an earthquake is comin', 'cause your legs start quiverin' and shakin'... followed by the sound of a watermelon hittin' the sidewalk.
... and then you wake up ~ face down in a patch of prickly pear! ;)
You get so fixated on bein' the fastest and baddest that you lose sight of the realities of even finishing the race... or enjoying the feeling of the blood pumpin' in your veins... the throbbing of your heart as you labor up that grade... The scent of the wind on your face when you crest the ridge.
You miss it all 'cause in your blindness... you only got a face full of cactus thorns!
The real problem with runnin' Too hard though, is everything you're passin' by is just a blur. The majority of your life is lost in the rush. You focus on the tools rather than the project. You get a tunnel vision and miss the greater portion of what there is too taste in this life... that you might could have savored, if you were just cruising... rather than that all or nothing sprint toward that arbitrary, focused goal!
Trust me... This Sprinter knows what he's about! ;) It's a trap I fall into time after time. I'm not only afflicted with a Lust for Yondering... I'm hobbled by a distinct learning disability! :)
It ain't my fault though! Part of a Drifter's personality is a short attention span. We're hard wired that-a-way. A Drifters personality is the National Lampoon Vacation in real life. Walk up to the edge of the Grand Canyon... Bob your head a few times, say uh huh! Yep... I see it... Now let's go! Lotta miles we gotta make!
A drifter can't be satisfied in some beautiful place he's found. That'd be like an Eagle finding a perch with an unending supply of water and food; With no need to ever fly again. Many in this world would say; "Lucky Bugger! He's got it made in the shade!"
It ain't the water and vittles he's after... it's the Soaring! He'd rather be hungry and Soaring, than fat lazy and perched. Beauty for a rover don't lie in the places... but in the miles between the places.
It ain't easy livin' shade I'm after! It's running against the wind that fills my sails.
Sometimes, in the past I've felt guilty about that and such as me are a definite minority. I live out on the fringe of acceptable society. My position on the social status ladder is just one rung above the grubby guy with a pack and a mutt; sitting against the wall outside the door at McDonalds.
The accepted mentality is to have some place. To have some roots. It sets wanderers apart from the rest of soh-sigh-uh-tee; and being "Set Apart" makes us, whether folks want to accept it or not... Outcasts.
That's ok... I feel pretty trapped when I camp in amongst the "popular" people. I don't "fit". I feel about as comfortable as showing up at a black tie dinner sporting a torn denim jacket, scarred leather chaps and boots that reek of recycled bovine fodder.
I don't fit in poh-lite society. And you know what? It's taken me 60 summers to figure it out... but... I don't believe I'll spend any more time feeling guilty about it. Let those who claim an open mind and tolerance (and exercise none) shoulder the guilt for a bit!
I write about "Long camps" and recommend them for people... Sure I do. But I'll be honest with you... I recommend them for the majority... not me. I am in that outcast few that setting up in one place, with a bus load of stuff, don't fit. It never has and it never will. I set up... only from lack of fuel to keep rolling. That is the pure and simple truth.
My hunger is to keep pushing that horizon. Not stop and watch it leave me behind.
I was built for roving against the wind. To roll out my bed in a new camp. To wander back across old trails to see what's changed. To seek out things I've not seen before. To listen to ideas I've never heard... and then... load my gear and roll.
So what's the upstart of all this disjointed, caffeinated, postulatin'?
Me... Me and this incessant stewing over rigs. I've grown weary of it! ~ So ~ I KNOW you must be!
Rigs... this kind of rig... that kind of rig... how do I build it? How do I finance it... how do I maintain it... rigs rigs rigs... and for me it's all stuff and nonsense. It don't fit... I spend too much nauseating time pondering things that don't really matter!
I've come to the realization that it's just a subconscious "knee jerk" to distract my brain pan from the discomfort of the empty space in my fuel tank. ;)
It's probable the caged Eagle does much the same thing... to distract his mind from the chain that locks him to the perch... or the wire walls that close him in.
Yeah sure... I need a rig. A Cowboy needs a horse... a Biker needs a ride, a sailor needs a boat... but those are just tools. What they truly need is to be Free. Free to wander and drift... to collect to themselves the spirtitual energy they crave... that can only be gained... for them...
... IF... They are Nose in the Wind ~ Living in Freedom On the Open Road.
Fighting to Keep My Nose in the Wind