10-16 September 2010
Somewhere in the Northwestern United States
Home. You blur my compass view, as I twist and slue. Deviate as I may, I twine, coil, skew, hook, crook, kink, writhe, spin, whirl, curve, snake, gyrate, reel, bend, bow, wimple, pivot, angle, meander, wind, zigzag, veer, pirouette and still I find you clouding my mind, my dearly loathed and frivolously loved, home. Your nostalgic longing plagues all travelers, you are inescapable and demoralizing to the route: travel is great to look forward to and back on but as uncomfortable as a rock in my trudging boot whilst I traverse, displaced, lost, uneasy… all the tell-tale whimpers of the wander afar. So this sentimental rapture is for you ‘home’ then we are through, that is, until the next time I gallant away magnetic north directing direction as you pull magnet-like “longing for familiarity.”
Home in the nude:
Not a spot on a map (which it is hardly ever even that), I have no map for ‘home’ nor is one needed. It’s the place I know the answer to the ‘where’ and it’s that comfort of knowing that makes ‘home’ sweet home.
Thru my glass I see home:
‘Home’ I have come to reckon, after 8 years of wanderlust transient pilgrimaging, is indeed a concept rather than a place. Physically the Northwest is where I spent the bulk of my life. I feel comfortable charging 80mph down the highway here. I ‘know’ the layout of the land… each bend, dip and pothole in the road and, as far as this side of the fence goes, I know the color of the grass (i.e. the people, the life, the culture, etc...) So, I guess I just hope a deer or an elk doesn’t walk out in front of my 2002 Accord at 80 and put us both into nonexistence and an effective end to my so-called ‘knowledge.’
This is ‘where I am from’:
A place time reluctantly touches; an exemption from the worldly laws of modernization and change, it is a lost (or is it found rather than lost?) land and for that I write vaguely about the lusterless treasure passed up by covered wagoneers heading west with glowing eyes glazed with gold dreams. I write so the megapopuocalypse fate that choked the coast after they passed continues to pass; they left us wild and alone… and free
we know Home knows us:
For us and you, where ever you call home: those devoid of soul, those ignorant of fellow beings, those shallow demotic stay away from our peace, we need not your business or ideas to exploit our humble inheritance. You will seek riches as you have forever sought at our expense but we will carry on when you have gone long and far. We are not for sale.
Final thought:
Travel with your heart and home is where you are.
And for me right now resting in quiet rejuvenating repose where life slowly goes is at home, for today, and today was a good day.
.s.
