Duncannon, Pa

I wrote this about a month ago when some friends got off trail in Pa:

I fall in love so easily, so simply, so softly and without time. The fast pace, the no time but the right time is going to tear us apart. In moments when we will miss each other, we forget what it means to connect right now, forgetting our present in quiet anticipation.

The world moves quickly and loves slowly; I move slowly and love quickly because it could all change, turn, move along and disappear before I even notice. To disappear before we disappear, to know before we are known. So what is it that goes missing? Is it me or is it you?

I can’t tell anymore.

How do I cope? How do I keep moving when all the inspiration just stops, just ceases moving, just seems frozen and there is no way out. No more wanting, no more needing, no more of this bullshit game. No worries.

At this point I break through myself and emerge- emerge stronger- emerge different. I’ve got to change and struggle and bloom-not to be confused with measured or placed or grown. I am immeasurable so I really wish everyone would stop trying, stop planning, just stop, long enough to find a change of pace, a change of perspective that doesn’t involve following a map. And if you do have a map…at least it was unexpectedly given to you.

I miss the freedom of hiking blind, of hiking with no idea, no group, no plan. Being happy means learning how to enjoy being uncomfortable; it means embracing fear. There is no absence when the senses set the world on fire.

The other day my tent flooded with a few inches of water. I felt stricken with panic as the water level was rising. Instead of being sad, angry, out of control—I just enjoyed the rain. I watched it pour in, my mat was floating as water rippled under the floor. I haven’t experienced a storm so enjoyable and so upsetting. Everything was ok because there was no other way that it could be. I couldn’t change the situation or alter my experience except in my attitude.

The world turns on itself, and I won’t ever be the same. Can’t ever be the same. I can’t express the happiness that emerges from these changes. I am becoming a better person, a self-reliant, nice person less concerned with the horrors of humanity, less concerned with events that my two hands can’t touch. And what of my two hands will make me better? I want breathe life where it isn’t and point out that which slips by, unnoticed.

Don’t let the world go slipping by. There is a fine line between speed and movement.

Can I choose not to carry along my uncertainties or my doubts? Everything will be ok.


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