blue

[adipocere]

I took a vacation this weekend. The band and some friends picked up our stuff and left for the beach. It was nice to take a break from the first focused semester I’ve had since I started school.

About 7 hours into the trip we were close enough not to get lost. We pulled over at the first sight of water. It was dark and late, and the taste of Gulf salt was in our lungs. We stepped out of the warm car, headlights glinting off the caps of an angry sea. The wind stirred fury into the water, and we stood in the gale and smiled like highway lines, flickering and always there. Kaleb lit a cigarette in the shadow of my car and the air drew flairs of smoldering tobacco. We walked on to the small pier and marveled at the whitecaps sifting through the planks, at the fine, frozen mist of the sea stinging our bare cheeks. When the cold seeped into our bones, we stood at the edge and shouted. We screamed, we yelled formless obscenities into something far larger and stronger than we because for a short instance, we believed that we were something far bigger, that we were capable of much more than just life.

The rest of that weekend was a mixture of beach and conversation. I remember running along the beach with friends and feeling open, the sand too soft to be good for my legs. The sea is a lonely man’s closest lover and a happy lover’s most secretive mistress. At least, it’s this way for me. I felt closer to home in seeing the beautiful indefinite line of oceanic horizon every time I stole a glance. I don’t feel right leaving the water or the mountains. I miss it every time I leave.

Above is a picture I took of Kaleb right as we were leaving the weekend behind. I think that this episodic manner of publishing might be the best thing for me, because I can identify the larger events and write about them.

How are you today?

This post is for Laurel. Thank you for making me think.

A world in reverse is what I’m looking for. Today, it is elucidating to think that everything is connected and everyone can know anyone, but it’s just as scary. When all of those out there come to know one another and we understand that we are all brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, mothers, and fathers to one another, maybe we’ll start to understand that there isn’t anything to fight about. We’ll realize that even though our family is so different, we are still family. We all have the same blood. Everyone knows this. We all have the same red blood in our veins and no matter who you or I worship that blood is still coursing through. It’s coursing through even in the moment when a person is shot and it pours out of him. I have never killed a man, nor have I ever killed anything, but I can only think that when you recognize that the blood of your sibling is ceasing to flow, a part of you will die as well. It won’t be a momentous occasion, it won’t be a beautiful means to an end. No one deserves to die, because the when a man dies, and their blood ceases to flow, we are needlessly killing another member of our family.

Now, I say this, and I’ve come to another realization. Do not take this as mine, I am just trying to be objective. It’s a very haunting thought to think, but it seems that it’s one that just might be true as well. The world is a system, and when you mess with a system as we do in our nature, the system, so aged and true, will correct itself by removing the offending element. This is a terrible and sad idea, but it is true.

Consider the world a jungle and life the safest path through it; We as a species have strayed from the natural path of life and tried to forge our own through the jungle. Now this is difficult because we don’t realize that the path we are trying to blaze on our own is just going to bring us deeper into the dangerous parts of the forest, to the parts that are unexplored and too dark to see. We think that we are wise and powerful because we don’t need to follow the normal path, that we are the masters of everything, and that it is we, not Nature, that has control over the world. The deeper we get into the forest, the darker and denser it gets until we cannot distinguish where we have been from where we will be. We can’t remember which direction we came from, we can’t see the sun to get our bearings. We turn on one another, yelling and blaming for our lack of compass, we are so very lost and scared and angry. We point fingers at one another, we kill. Now there are less of us in the forest, and the few wise ones that turned back long ago are too far out of earshot to help. We yell, we feel courageous, but we shiver and are cold at night, the impending anger of the forest looming around us. We remember the words of those that we left back on the path that said that this was not the way, and that we should continue with them because it will lead to something great, but we laugh and we scoff because we are big and strong and we know that we are right. Only, days from now we will run out of water and keep killing one another until the last man stands bloodstained and alone, wailing and frail. Again, we’ll remember the words of those that stayed on the path, and we will know that they were right. We will curl up in the forest, stomach aching, jungle dark and carnivorous around us, and we will know that they were right.

I think that we are deep into the jungle, but I don’t know if it is too late to turn back. I don’t know if we are still able to yell to our smart friends back on the path to see if we can find them again.

I know that the world is beautiful place when it is left alone. Though we are momentous for having founded this monolith of a civilization across our scarred planet, I think that we miss the green much more than we love the white we have made.

My point is this; to understand that we are killing ourselves, we need to remember the words of the wise ones and get back to the earth, to the caring path that cannot see very well but can feel because it is warm and easy. The reason that I like the past so much is because the further one looks into the past, the simpler it gets. As a strange example, I’ve discovered that the reason I like old film cameras better than new digital ones is because they don’t break. They were made to last a very long time, where our new cameras are all plastic, glass and wires, build to last long enough to have to buy a new one. The steel-aluminum body of my Electro 35 is so tough, I know that it will last a long time, but I’m not so sure about my Rebel because it feels weak and plastic. I like pens better than computers because a pen can take a lot more damage than does a keyboard and hard/software. I like to read actual books because a “Kindle” will break if I use it as a head-rest.

In any case, this is what I think, and though I may not be right, I wish that people would understand that it is better to understand that we are creatures of the Earth. Though we wish that we could be the birds that know the sky or the fish that know the sea, we know the Earth and this what we should learn to love. We should look up into the sky and admire the birds because it is glorious that they can fly, we should looks at the fish and think that it is beautiful that that they can swim as they do, and we should be proud of ourselves for knowing the Earth.

[because there are distances too wide to cross]

I’ve been swimming in circles lately. I’m nothing but a fish caught in a current I can’t fight unless I grow bigger fins. I came to the realization recently that I have an amazing life. I’ve lived in many countries, I’ve seen so many horizons, and I’ve done so very many amazing things. I’ve seen an amount of the world that some people will never even dream of seeing. The longer I remain stationary, deeper sets the wanderlust at my core. I want to bring back pictures, ideas and liberty to everyone that never achieve the opportunity of exploring. Far too many people are too deeply rooted in ideologies that are murdering the freedom of the mind.

So striking is a sunset when seen remotely.

My mind is stuck as I write this. I am torn between words. There are hundreds of combinations but I can’t write one that sounds correct. I am experiencing a wall and a lack of sense. I haven’t seen really beautiful things in a long while. I am, without certitude, becoming an academic.

Ah, yes. This is a subject to touch upon. The project of the next five months will most importantly be one of determination, a determination that I am unsure I can muster. I have never been a person who reads extensive texts for school; I am too much of a dreamer. My mind has typically been that of an aesthete, I obsess with the beautiful elements but have been long lost upon the idea that I will learn their inner workings. This semester it seems as though this will will be something I have to take into consideration. The frivolity of my college career to this point is drawing to something resembling a close and I intend to grasp it tightly and follow the path. The courses that I am taking are deeply challenging, and I am so excited to try it. Every course this far has been engaging, and I think that I will be able to follow. I’ve started to see the inner workings of Anthropology and they are… They are simply so exciting. My professors actually seem as though they are interested and passionate about what they teach. I finally feel as though I have the motivation to learn.

In contrast, the simpler parts of my life are converging. With a few friends in hand, this summer will be another adventure that I know you will all love and read with vigor. Because, yes, I know that there are a few out there reading, and I love those that are. Thanks for keeping me on here. I’m sorry I’m not that reliable. Life isn’t that eventful when you’re glued to the earth. I feel the soles of my feet itching with roots that I don’t want to start digging in yet. This summer will be ours. This summer will be mine.

This year will be mine.