06/25/17

Cuyahoga Valley National Park:
A national park pinned between cities and interstates the hum of traffic always within earshot but the park had its moments and there isn't many things better than spending time with friends and sleeping under the stars...even if you can't see them well that close to Cleveland.

From the book I'll never write that jumps straight to the dramatic part.
untitled:

And he was chipped away slowly, almost at a rate unnoticed to the constant observer but chipped away nonetheless. The way the observer's attention to, or lack of, detail has no effect. That strange way the world seems to show no mercy, like lost keys exactly where they were left despite all the wishing, hoping, and common sense of where they should be. Chipped away at both ends of the block. He stood on the edge of the cabin porch blankly staring towards the distant mountains across the lake. Not another soul within a day's ride.

Chipped away. He wondered how a place like Heaven could actually exist... not on a spiritual level but on a mechanical. How could the soul exist in a place eternally while still grasping the sensation of awe and wonder? That feeling that seems to stretch further and further away with each repeat.

Each repeat, as the bitter morning breeze stepped past him he recalled dates in school. Taking such care, intricate nervous hygienic rituals, pouring on scented body wash in the hopes she might swoon pressed again his teenage chest those first years of kissing girls how it was more than enough to make his heart swell with contentment at the end of the evening. How he couldn't feel his feet hit the ground on his way home from a date. Then thinking back to last Tuesday night in the backseat of a strangers car, her dress so easily removed his hands, almost muscle memory, the bra snapped off with the flick of two fingers. His kisses mass produced, assembly line distributed. That heavy march home. Thursday night listening to the likes and dislikes of a new woman at a bar his consciousness wondering if he even showered at all that day. Friday night watching a woman slowly slip her jeans past her hips and toss them off with her toe. Each repeat that feeling stretching further and further...chipped away.

Chipped away at both ends of the slab. Surrounded by Douglas firs rustling, complying with the demands of the wind, nostrils flared as lungs filled with their pure pine scent. How deep love once felt. He broke contact with the mountains looking down at the steam liberated from his coffee cup exhaling more sigh than groan a sort of accepting. Hearing those words "You're such a catch" ringing in his mind as he was tossed back by that schoolhouse sweat heart. A dull grin crept up the left side of his cheek thinking of another. The one that would stay out all night with him until his boss would reprimand him for his sluggish shovel work the next day. The one he would surprise with flowers. The one who looked him in his hopeful romantic eyes "I'm yours and that's it forever" as she stepped onto the tarmac and never returned. Lowering and shaking his head what else could he do but grin at his own hopeless gullibility.  

That sensation of awe and wonder when a boy first kisses a girl, that feeling when a man hears the words "I love you" from the exact woman. The butterflies seem to flutter away with each repetition. His eyes switching between blurred and focused as he pondered Heaven's mechanics what sort of magic could keep the human heart fresh? If he only knew the spell if he could find the secret.

"But wait" he thought to himself "what catalyst halted my morning, disrupted this peaceful moment delayed the days work in the field?" Slowly his mind guided him by the hand, he resisted attempting to merely enjoy the sunrise but his heart wrenched his conscious reins back towards the trail... it was her. His mind lead him through like the ghosts with Ebenezer. That summer night at the tavern. The autumn midnights writing messages back and forth. The frigid winter dark sipping warm coffee across from her. And finally those spring mornings reading her thoughts, ideas, and experiences until finally even that was ripped from him...chipped away to silence.
And she was gone. Evaporated like summer dew at dawn. Gone like the rest. His heart wrestling with the words she gifted him and the reality she delivered him. Again and again.

"What will remain?" He thought to himself as he felt his heart crack along the well worn path of confusion, pain, and grief. He wondered if he could muster the strength to stand again. He wondered if words, promises, feelings could stir within him that take of eternal Heaven. Words, promises, feelings, he'd heard them and fell for them so many times prior building immunity creating a crocodile like flesh around his heart. Alone on the porch facing the sunrise as it reflected off the lake dripped the snow tipped fir needles to water, eyes again fixed out toward the mountains he wondered if life might be best spent here. Remaining here alone. All of these thoughts stirred within him an urge to toss on his fleece and begin chopping wood with each swing of the axe landing stronger and faster trying to sweat out the thoughts. He always felt when his heart controlled too much of him that balance was required through manual labor. 

"How can it be that humans feel no monotony in eternity? How do we build such tolerances here and will not there?" He wondered as the axe split the next log on the chopping block. If that be the case and God, the creator of such an eternity, is love then love can not lose its luster. Love cannot lose its shine it must still be in me and within me "I must have the capacity for butterflies once more...once more...right? right?" He sped up his swings the rhythm quickening if only he could work his heart into submission as its rate raised higher and higher.

"I want a home." He slumped back, wiped his brow, and walked towards that single room cabin. Again he vainly checked her writings, her thoughts, her feelings...one more time.
Nothing.
silence.
s p a c e.

Tossing the hallow stack of mail across the room onto the bed he ran his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. He stood, stepped back to the porch and leaned against the rail. His eyes caught a flash of something in their corner. He turned towards the drive

and there approaching from the West in the sunrise light like a stage illuminated a figure riding up to the solitary cabin...

I didn't mean for that to be as long as it ended up being. I always find myself rambling. As the famous quote goes: If I had more time, I would have written less.

The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy
'Til all of the tricks don't work anymore
And then they are bored of me
I know that it's exciting
Running through the night, but
Every perfect summer's
Eating me alive until you're gone
Better on my own

Lorde - Liability

06/18/17

..."Doing my thing" Modern dating is not "my thing" Modern dating, countless shallow temporary interactions was never plan A but it is the reality of my situation. Plan A was find a woman who feels like home but sometimes we don't find them. Sometimes we do but circumstances beyond ourselves hinder...So plan B. I have grown to accept and even at times enjoy this plan I use to despise it. But to be very very clear it is and will always be plan B. In January I promised to keep an open mind while dating while I can't be given what I deserve. I gave my word and I have tried my damnedest to keep that word. To say I used the steps to get into the shallow end rather than cannonball my ass off the diving board and collected all the sinking rings at the bottom of the 12ft end was because of the circumstances of the pool... I felt and I still to this day feel like I jumped the fence of another pool and for all intents and purposes I shouldn't even be dipping a toe let alone take the steps into the shallow end...but I did, I am, and I did because of my own choices and I take responsibility for that I freely chose to and I absolutely have no regret. My only regret would be not being able to take the diving board and jackknife into the deep end. I wasn't told to wait. I should be happy now... But what if waiting would make me happy? What if people shouldn't determine what I deserve or don't... What if I am a man of my word (or at least I try to be) and what if I gave my word: If you ever finally wake up. Please come find me *Redacted*. I'm yours. I suppose a word like that along with promising to keep an open mind while dating coming from a man who tries very hard to keep his word would make plan B seem like plan A...but don't get it twisted.

But by the time this letter is posted another week will have passed and who knows the sorts of merciless gymnastics time plays on the mind. As this letter posts I'll be waking in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park Ohio's only national park.

If the injustice is part of the necessary friction of the machine of government, let it go, let it go: perchance it will wear smooth - certainly the machine will wear out. If the injustice has a spring, or a pulley, or a rope, or a crank, exclusively for itself, then perhaps you may consider whether the remedy will not be worse than the evil; but if it is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then I say, break the law. Let your life be a counter-friction to stop the machine. What I have to do is see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.
-Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau

I had this quote saved from Civil Disobedience when I was reading it. I wanted to take time to process and map out my thoughts about it here but now despite my efforts I find my mind completely occupied with a subject I promised I'd not fill my mind with... I mentioned I'm working on being a man of my word... it certainly seems to be a work in progress at the moment. All I can think to say is I like this quote...and this one day at a time stuff isn't easy by any means.

I was feeling down, then I found a nice witch and now we're best friends - in love with a ghost

06/11/17

Modern Dating.

The older I get the more my perspective expands.

The further I get from my last serious relationship the more comfortable I get merely going on dates with different women. The longer I have been single the less I seem to find myself wanting something serious like I use to want as a kid.

Growing up I always wanted that wife. I viewed a wedding ring as a trophy, a badge of honor to display that I have a wife and I love her so much. I idolized and envisioned my married life. I imagined the fun we would have, grocery shopping together, date nights, vacations, cooking together, getting ready in the morning bathroom together, all of that naïve idealistic romantic stuff.

But as my sample size of friends and acquaintances who are married has increased my understanding of reality has also increased. I have only found 1 marriage I envy...one...well two if I count the Obamas but I don't know them personally so I don't count it.

The more dates I go on and the more I get to know the women I go on dates with, the more I am awaken to the reality of the situation.

Why do we humans get married?
What is the benefit to marriage?

I've even seen enough split parent children in the schools I've worked to realize that children aren't even a good reason for marriage. I've seen so many loving and supporting families raise a child or children while living in different homes and even having different partners.

I'm becoming more and more content with the temporary variety of meeting women learning about them, possibly sharing intimacy with them and then parting ways to continue on our own individual paths. The desire to ask a woman to exclude herself and for myself to be submitted to a monogamous relationship until death sounds possessive, and archaic. Almost as if it stems from some insecurity.

Marriage in the past make sense to me. It takes all damn day to hunt or gather the food and it takes all day to prepare it so you'd have to be in two places at once doing two different things. It makes sense to divorce someone would be a death sentence, to starve them out essentially. But today the grocery store and the oven have both eliminated the needs for a husband and a wife. Perhaps it's what our ancestors had in mind as they innovated and worked endlessly in the name of progress suffering through an unhappy marriage in the hope that their descendants would one day have the luxury and freedom to live single and spend life continuously exploring both the exterior world and the interior of the individual.

Who can say.

Even reflecting on my backpacking trip in the Smokies imagine if I was with someone how much more different would that have been.

I'm not sure how I feel about marriage but I think the point of this rambling is my slow coming to terms with the contentment I find in the freedom, adventure and variety both being single and dating has to offer my life.

I think I would very much like to be a father, but a husband... I'm not so sure about that.

Unless I find a woman who feels like home, a woman who understand me, a woman who pushes, encourages, and inspires me I think I am enjoying very much this season of being single.

Out of the women in my contact list I have yet to find such a woman. I have however found more and more of myself and I have enjoyed this immensely. I have also learned to enjoy the journey of dating. Where before I was simply out to find a woman who moved my heart enough to marry now I simply learn and enjoy the stories of the women I meet we impact, giving and taking from each other, and we continue on our separate paths of life.

Recently I've been seeing an aunt of one of the children at the early childhood center. Her niece is one of my favorites, she's confident and independent, she's gorgeous and she's got a body like a Parisian runway model...but marriage...but forever...I don't know...

What about when I want to take one of my summers after teaching to travel through Africa or South America for two months and she doesn't have that much PTO? What about if I want to through hike the AT?

Are their such things as soulmates?
How do you know when you've found yours?
What happens when yours gets cancer or a car accident before or after you've found one another?
Are we suppose to pick and stick with one person?

What if my person wants to not be my person? So we just stick together because of duty?
What if I don't want my person to be my person anymore? Do I stay to "protect" them?

I suppose there will always be that hopeless romantic heart inside of me that dreams of this unrealistic fantasy marriage. I suppose I will also have that piece but as with everything, the older I get the more I see just how grey the world is. Nothing, and I mean nothing is black and white. And so with that I add a new dichotomy to my mind to wrestle back and forth with through this temporary sole life...single or married.

Modern Dating.

Tomoya Naka - Rainy Song

06/04/17

'Yes, yes,' he said, 'very likely you are right. But I am glad you are in good spirits and go bear-hunting, and work, and are full of enthusiasms, because Shcherbatsky told me he met you and you were down in the mouth, and kept talking about death...'
'Well, what of that? I never stop thinking of death.' said Levin. 'It really is time for me to die. All those things are mere nonsense. I will tell you frankly: I value my idea and my work immensely, but really... Just think! This whole world of ours is only a speck of mildew sprung up on a tiny planet; yet we think we can have something great - thoughts, actions! They are all but grains of sand!'
'But, my dear fellow, all that is as old as the hills.'
'It is old... But, do you know, when you have once grasped it clearly, everything becomes so insignificant! If you once realize that to-morrow, if not to-day, you will die and nothing will be left of you, everything becomes insignificant! I consider my ideas very important, yet they too turn out to be insignificant - and would be, even if it were as possible to carry them out as it was to surround this bear. And so one passes one's life finding distraction in hunting or in work, merely not to think of death.'
Oblonsky listened to Levin with an affectionate and subtle smile.
'Well, of course! So now you have come round to my notion. Do you remember how you used to fly at me for seeking enjoyment in life? Do not be so severe, O moralist!...'
'But of course the good in life is...' Levin became confused. 'Oh, I don't know. All I know is, that we shall all die soon.'
'Why soon?'
'And do you know, life has less charm when one thinks of death, but it is more peaceful.'
'On the contrary, it is even brighter toward the end! However, I must be going.' returned Oblonsky, rising for the tenth time.
-Anna Karenina Part Four, Chapter 8 by Leo Tolstoy

I went to the Onboarding Session for Columbus City Schools District on May 22nd.
One step closer to my first year teaching!

Closing the door behind me walking down my steps and turning the ignition of my car. Saturday morning 7am before the city has had a chance to wake up. I took the interstate system and weaved my way south to Tennessee. Audio book playing, steam still rising out of the travel mug in the cup holder, the perfect start for a sleepy Saturday. I'm not sure the last time I took a road trip outside of the state. Maybe that weekend trip to Kansas in June? The yearly beach trip in July? Mid afternoon, swung the pack around my back tightening the straps and started out on three and a half miles to my first campsite. My lungs beginning to strain, my eyes consuming as much of the endless greenery surrounding me. Before long I arrived. The first of an unknown amount at this primitive campsite. I began the methodical ritual of constructing my home for the night. Tent poles erect, dry bag with the trips sustenance contained hoisted up the bear line. I silently gathered felled twigs and branches to prepare to create my own personal consuming sun for when the Earth spun my portion away from the authentic center star.

After everything was set I decided to venture again to explore the beauty of this ecoregion, one of the most biodiverse in the world possibly more than the rain forest. Exploring without the burden of my pack made this portion much more enjoyable. The only weight my body need carry is that of my heart as it seeks to inhale this strange environment. After an hour or two out in the Great Smoky Mountains I returned to the campsite washed myself in the nearby stream, hopefully of all the oils and dangers of the poison ivy, oak, sumac, and whatever else could create a reaction on my skin. The water was cold clear and crisp. The gentle constant sound of the stream weaving around my legs and arms mindless to the new additions to the water's path onward. I splashed my face over and over first to remove dirt and sweat then to simply enjoy the nerve shocking sensation the water drew from my body. As I returned to the campsite I noticed a couple setting up their temporary home, the beginnings of our short term village community. I greeted them and began my work on the fire. The man joined me and asked if they could accompany me and my fire. I gladly obliged a campfire with company is much better and in fact feels more natural more intended for some reason. His name was Jared from Indiana we swapped stories of camping and hiking as the embers grew. His wife joined us although silent it made me happy to see the couple and learn their story.

As dusk grew shorter we heard the steps of another addition to our tent town. A solo hiker like myself bounded into camp thanking us for the fire for he might have missed the campsite without it. After construction of this shelter he plopped down next to me on the ground, I on a rock, Jared and his wife on a log. Marshall from Seattle. Marshall had just finished a year of teaching high school American History in Mobile, Alabama literally left the school packed up and headed to our campsite. He had only taught one year in Mobile and was now beginning the next chapter of this story spending only a night in the mountains in order to unpack the stresses and hardships of a school year before moving on to his next destination. He had to be around his late 30's maybe ten years older than myself. I liked Marshall he and I started talking about the education system, politics, and the beauty of California.

After the Earth had turned itself around the sun to share it's heat with another portion our last citizens of the community joined us finishing their leg of the hike with head lamps. Another couple these two from Nashville, transplants not native to the city. I can't recall their names but after sometime setting their tent up they came back down to join in our fire side talk. Something about the fire draws us all near, much like moths and insects we humans enjoy the company of the heat, light, and conversation. The two of them seamlessly joined our discussions sharing in the common ground of exploring, camping, and the beauty of this planet.

After we each slowly retired into our zip lock domiciles I laid myself upon my sleeping mat and bag. My shoulders sore and my legs weary. Sleep came effortlessly. No traffic, no streetlights, just the sound of that ever constant stream I had bathed in previously. The soothing lullaby of its consistent flowing rhythm. Until CRASH my eyes shot open to the brightest light I'd seen illuminating the entire inside of my tent and other crash and another. Half awake completely disoriented I lay confused and petrified. A monstrous thunderstorm rolled through these smoky mountains. The sound was unlike anything I had ever heard. My brain and ears worked tirelessly to place what they were receiving, attempting to disprove the illogical conclusions of freight trains and dinosaurs my imagination was creating as reasons for the sounds. The wind tearing through those tight knit trees created a novel sound to my senses. The lightning so consistent and so magnificent that it seemed to be a spotlight from a helicopter pointed directly on my rainfly. As the storm raged and the drops pelted my tent my brain began to come to terms with how completely vulnerable I was in this moment. If I decided to run, which direction would I choose and why? No shelter nearby no sanctuary of civilization in which to find comfort. This tent, this feeble collection of cloth and net stitched together was all I had. What would I do if a tree fell? What would I do if the tent poles did not hold? What options did I have? My mind raced all the while my body lay completely and utterly helpless. It was after all of this reasoning that I concluded I as entirely at the mercy of mother nature and mother nature isn't know for her grace. I began to pray, bargaining and petitioning for a safe voyage through this storm. All of those questions of doubts, all of that logic of science instantaneously out the window as my soul cried out towards something beyond itself for rescue. It was exactly like Lev in Anna Karenina the agnostic turned religions while sprinting through a thunderstorm worried for the safety of his wife and newborn son. Tolstoy's description of his character's internal turmoil brought to the forefront of my mind as I wrestled through a similar helplessness finding myself praying exactly as Levin.

Morning came as it always does. I began to pack my gear with the early morning light illuminating my tent 6:30 in the morning preparing for my journey through the Appalachian trail to my next temporary campsite community. After I was all packed I sat on my rock and began eating my breakfast in peace. Jared and Marshal unzipped their front doors and joined shortly afterwards. We discussed the magnificence of the story with reverence and amaze giving our own personal perspectives. Jared's tent had not weathered the storm as well as mine with two inches of water at the bottom. Marshall with a smile as he boiled and shared instant coffee with us expressed how the storm symbolically washed away the stress and the challenges of the school year from his soul. I liked that. After I finished my cup of coffee with the pseudo family breakfast table I once again swung my pack upon my shoulders and began day two.

I could go on for hours expressing the glory of this Memorial Day weekend but I have things I'd like to do today in this beautiful morning and my coffee has turned cold. I'll cut to the return trip after the twenty miles of Smoky mountains and another beautiful night under the canopy of diverse vegetation and one sighting of a very harmless small bear.

On my way back to Columbus I stopped in Cincinnati to see Brian and Alan. Alan was apparently in Nashville seeing a woman. I probably could have grabbed a drink on my way up to Cincinnati from the Smokies. While Brian and I were getting a drink and catching up he told me Kelly is engaged. It was one year ago Memorial Day weekend 2016 that we got back together. How strange and how much changes in one trip around the sun. We talked about his tattoos and how he and Mara will probably end in August. We talked about him potentially moving out to Seattle. When we finished our beers we walked back to his apartment we parted ways as I finished the last leg of my trip home. Columbus.

I stepped in the door unpacked my pack threw a load in the wash and sat down to read the letter Tempestt wrote for me. She's working on things with her husband and asked for more s p a c e. "Your interesting perspective on everything is refreshing...honest. You are truly someone great in this world. I am sure you won't forget that but if for some reason you ever doubt that, please do not. You are amazing."

Maybe this is all very poor timing or maybe it's something else... I don't know but this isn't the first exgirlfriend of mine to get engaged less than a year after saying she loves me and now I am hearing how amazing I am from the woman I like very much so and she's telling me to stay away (however this one came premarried so she saved me the trouble of learning about a hasty engagement).

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." - Albert Einstein
What the fuck am I doing with my life?
I'm going to be 30 in six months
I guess I'm grateful to have lived this long. How many people had the privilege of three decades on this wonderful planet?
What am I doing?
I am insanity, but what other choice do I have, what is it to live ignoring my heart?

Life is so very strange,
But how immeasurably beautiful.

Postcard From 1952 - Explosions in the Sky