What is it that pushes a man to leave behind all he knew, all he built, and just go? Where does the urge come from that is so strong that he abandons comfort and supposed security... to Wander?
How is it that a man can feel more secure, more serene, more whole; the less he has?... When with nothing but a back pack, or the small bit of gear packed on a motorcycle... He feels stronger and more complete, than in a house and shop stuffed with all manner of tools and trinkets?
Everything those around him assure him are too valuable to leave are sold, given or discarded and he goes, and in the going his feelings of being closer to some internal answer seem to swell.
It's an odd sensation. When those "Things" which he's been trained his whole life, to treasure and pursue are cut away; each new loss, results in a lessened pressure in his chest and a gain in self worth. That nauseous squirming deep in his guts, that had grown for so many years recedes...
The fear of losing that which he has discovered is merely a facade that serves others... evaporates.
There are the occasional pangs of guilt for seeing the teachings of his "Masters" as false. But then he thinks a moment and can only smile. He can only look at the great majority of things as mere tools. If they do not serve they are a master. If their benefit is a greater cost of life and honor than what they provide, they are a cancer.
He refuses to sit around tallying up his "Net worth" in terms of dollars and goods or his productivity to the hive. His "Worth", in his own eyes, is in the visions he's seen. The wind he's tasted. The Freedom he reveres and those who call him Friend.
Wanderers, rovers, drifters, gypsies, star gazers, adventurers; all seek the same thing in their own many and unique ways. LIFE. They seek to grasp the most precious possessions of all... LIFE and Joy.
They are a strange and mysterious blend of humility and righteous rage.
Eschewing comfort and stability, they seek life unfettered by the arrogant chains of a fearful society. Unburdened by the false security of things and phony promises. Unstained by the imposition of the grasping values of others. Un-imprisoned by a pompous world that says; Your life is ours. We Own You.
Seekers of Life. Preferring laughter and friendship around a campfire... but uncowed by the requirement that they fight to strike down the would be "Masters" hand should he be so arrogant as to try...
Yup... Wanderers and Rovers... the Grinning Junk Yard Dog sleeping in the sun, who looks up with a single open eye and quietly says; "You own me? I WILL obey you or else? Really? ha ha ha... Or else what? Reach out and grab my collar then! Go Ahead. Take a grip! Do it! Please! I need the exercise!"
~~~
We made a night camp in a FS site just SE of Rainier... Our intention had been to stay in the area for a few days... but, the smoke in the sky had me saying "meh... I'll just keep moving."
In the morning, we said goodbye to the camp Dragon... and moved on...
The smoky haze was thinning as we dropped into Ellensburg but still too far south to be out of it...
Above Ellensburg the air cleared a lot. We stopped alongside the road, on a high and windy ridge for lunch... with a nice and long view of Washington Ranch country.
It stirs a melancholy "homesick" remembrance of good times...
Where we sat, looking the other way, was amidst a wind farm. I've always wondered, curious, at the descriptions I've read of the things. They always describe the woosh of the blades. Truth is, I've always been too far off to hear a thing. This day, sitting just below these machines, even over the wind, If I listened careful, the throbbing sound of the blades could be heard over the wind...
Finally, late in the afternoon we made a short sideways adjustment to our track and sidled up the highway back to the west a bit beyond Leavenworth. We stayed in the area a couple of years ago... and know of a FS camp there that's easy and convenient... I believe I may be getting soft ;) ...
We'll lay up here, pretty much clear of the smoke... suck up some of that life... gather in some of the small bits... and then we'll move on down the road... always seeking...
Life as I see it... thoughts thunk along the way...
Brian
4 comments:
Took your advise... just cruised into the area I wanted to be, Priest Lake Idaho and trusted to the universe that a FS campsite would open up. Yup, At 6 PM on a Thursday night there were 7 sites to choose from. Not exactly the campground of my first choice but a nice one for a home base for this fabulous area. Rugged, and wild Sunday afternoon there will be great campsite pickins at Luby Bay on Priest Lake (4G service!).
Hi Brian, you are edging closer to my area of the mountains. Hope you and Heidi have a nice camp there near Leavenworth. Only ever stayed at a couple of camps down Icicle Road over the years, like with our kids (who are all grown and flown).
We had a year of everywhere we went the smoke followed us, too. Hope the truck is healed and Murphy lays off for a bit.
Brian,
My DW and I have accumulated 45 years of "things". WOW..what a waste!
We've realized that "things" aren't that important.
Every time I sell or donate an item....I long for the day when everything we own will fit into the RV.
Wish you safe and trouble free travels...and "keep on...keepin on"!!
Klbexplores; Sometimes it's a little "nervy" just pullin' in like that... but, we've always found something, somewhere, if we just keep "open" to it.
Cindy; shhhhh... so far so good... but don't let the lil' Irish know... I'm hopin' he's takin' a nap!
rf47; Sometimes I think people might misunderstand me about "Stuff" ... so much IS a waste... yet so much is still valuable. It's learning that difference that's the trick! :) 39 different pots and pans? BAD. Enough clothes to outfit a Battalion? BAD... BIG RED MOTORCYCLES? GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD! ;) Some things serve, and some things are served. sort out which and life gets a lot simpler. ;)
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