Box Canyon Blog.com
"We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." C. Bukowski
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Thursday, May 24, 2012
Efficacy Of A Fulltime Lifestyle... Deconstructing My RV Dream
Sometimes a blogger has to bite his tongue. Other times he must nearly chew it in two and swallow his own foul tasting blood in order to avoid the escalation of absurd "rhetoric." And every once in a while, his thin, age spotted skin gets the best of him and it goes something like this.
Maybe I don't get it. Maybe I'm wrong. But I think a blogger should be able to speak his mind; the essays and photos should reflect want the author wants reflected... within reason. My blog is a Journal and Photos of a Wanderer; it says so right at the top of my home page. Key word? "Journal." Welcome to my Diary Of A Mad Boondocker. It's free. You don't have to click anything to put money in my pocket (anymore, anyway), and thus it's worth not one red cent less than what you pay for it... and sometimes, not one cent more.
Turn the pages of my Journal and I will take you somewhere. I'll show you what it looks like... tell you about how it inspires me to imagine and how that feels. An active/traveling/RV/outdoor life... along with birthdays... changes a guy. I hope to never cease changing because I get bored with my same ole' self pretty darn quick. Once in a while the shoes of my work-in-progress outlook utters a point of view that doesn't fit others feet... they find fault with my shoes. That's ok, maybe they're ahead of me on the "Journey." What do I know.
I often emote in my "Journal," as best I know how, the internal dialogue that plays in my atrophying brain, all the while going about the business of putting one shoe in front of the other in the direction I sense will get me where I need to be in this confounded world. Dumb as I am, I have learned a few things... and one of the toughest pills to swallow was/is that where I think I "want" to be... is not always where I "belong," at least not yet, anyway. If patience is a virtue, I'm a lock for Heaven.
I was brought up by intelligent, hard working, middle class, bluest of collar parents. They taught their children well, that "tomorrows" won't always take care of themselves if you don't take care of "todays." You can apply their philosophy to the entirety of "kit" and "caboodle;" health, wealth, finances, retirement, dreams, relationships, goals... even weight loss. The fences that temporarily separate me from some of my dreams I for now must straddle.
Maybe I'm different. If it's true, I know there is someone else out there who is similarly different (oxymoron intended). If I feel a certain way about something there's bound to be someone else out there who aligns with my perspective. We are bound to be in the minority and thus become fast friends. I'm told there is no such thing as a dumb question. I would add to that, "nor a dumb feeling." Hell, remember what fools young Love made of us as we rushed in? But love is not dumb... nearsighted maybe, but not dumb. I can't help how I feel. I would need a brand new pair of genes in order to change who I am.
Alas, I'm beating around the bush... biting my tongue in two.
Am I the only one who ever questioned the efficacy of a Full Time RV Life? Am I the only guy who after a year on the road wondered, "Is this all there is?" Am I the only one who felt something was missing... the only one who wanted more... the only one who dared question choices made... the only one who needed to embark on a new dream since the old one was realized... the only one who "needed input," more than plopping my ass in a lonely, disconnected "wide-body" lawn chair way out in the land of all-by-myself? Don't some of us need a little "contact?" Is that so blatantly offensive and/or ungrateful or difficult to grasp? I know well the tree from which my acorns fall, so taking care of my todays... in spite of the overwhelming impulse to jump, is not necessarily cowardly. Don't tell me to risk my tomorrows with you and I won't ask you to risk your life with me, running airy ridge lines and ascending peaks that gnarl insides into knots.
To each their own path. I'll follow my dreams my way, you follow yours. Guess what? We'll both get there. I'll continue to question everything and anything on the pages of this blog... including God and myself. I'll question ruts and status quo... for change is the greatest impetus to growth. I'll even question my own choices.
But I am my father's son; his example spoke louder than words. Here's a little "fridge material" that echoes between my ears.
Listen, if you want to be heard. Be passionate, but have compassion. Be brave, without bravado. Find a bit of light in failure's darkness. And seek little joys hidden in every sadness... even death. If this makes no sense or offends, I apologize... it makes sense to me.
Time to cool down with a slide show of our hike up Bear Creek to Yellow Jacket Mine...