10 lbs of flour in a 5 lb bag.

I said don't tell me what I need. I ate dinner and swam afterwards. It was immediately afterwards too. I jumped right in. Normally I might wade in slowly. Normally I might wait 30 minutes like mom used to say was important. Cramps be dammed. I'm over the possibility of pain.

I've felt enough already. Scar tissue folds over and adheres to skin, organs and itself. How often is it repeated like a mantra, mind over matter, where there's a will there's a way, anything is possible with a good attitude.

I quit my job suddenly in June. There were lots of whys and whatareyougoingtodonows ? Without real clarity myself, the answers returned left the questioners dissatisfied, uneasy. Rumors flew around the workplace, ranging from ridiculous(growing pot) to semi plausible(commercial fishing). The point of course was lost on everyone. I wasn't going to start working another job. I had ideas but no plans. It wasn't about money, but rather the opposite. I didn't plan to be making a dime for several months. I jokingly said I was retiring, but why the hell not?

I am unemployed. I am without health insurance. I cashed in my meager retirement. I paid some bills off and then I am off and running. The west. Mountains. California. Alaska. Hot springs. Twisty motorcycle rides. Big dog in a little car.

My life of fitting 10 lbs of flour in a 5 lb bag.

Go Fast Genes

I always tell people that I don't have the "go fast" gene. I can point it out in my dad and brothers. Speeding away from stoplights, revving their engines, screeching tires in corners. You can see it in their faces. The big smiles and searching looks to see if anybody else around is enjoying it too.

There was a point where I thought I might be in trouble. When I bought my first motorcycle and began to ride I realized that pound for pound there were far more horses in between those two wheels than most cars. Just a simple twist of a wrist was all it took to flatten my eyeballs and grip that machine tight. It was easy, too easy, and way too much fun. I had good luck tempering my enthusiasm by riding in inclement weather and freezing my ass off. At least it did take a lot of the immediate fun out of it, delaying the gratification(or was it relief) until arriving at the destination.

I have not had a wreck yet. I say yet, because I truly believe it is inevitable given the frequency with which I ride. Nor have I been in a car accident, except getting rear ended by a very old woman at a stoplight. I am certainly mostly cautious, but I find myself taking those calculated risks for the sheer fun of it and having plenty of close calls. Wildlife, rough roads, inattentive drivers, mechanical failure have all nearly ruined what was otherwise a perfect day(or week or year or life).

When do I stop? I have seen many men quit riding due to starting a family. Is the temptation to have fun on two wheels too great and too directly deadly? Some people ride very safely their entire lives right up until they can no longer balance a bike and even then sometimes they continue on a trike or with landing gear(training wheels). I get the feeling that I will never stop unless health gets in the way. I have derived too much joy, made too many memories, and seen so many places that I can't imagine life without it.

But it's even simpler than that. When I start up a bike, throw a leg over and give that throttle a twist. The rush, the hang on tight you could die at any moment feeling takes over every other sense. It dominates all errant thoughts and distractions. It puts me so firmly in the moment that to even entertain a sideways glance could be the last thing I see.

"Go fast genes?" Nah not here no way. Thanks dad.

Business

I've been kicking some long term goals around in my head the last 3 or so weeks. I've got a several ideas, sort of vague, but getting more specific that seem possible, but tricky. The overall idea is that I want to find a different livelihood which I am genuinely in love with. Not just a job, career, or paycheck, but a way to make money yes, which also fulfills some deeper desire buried inside my heart/brain.

First off, my plan up until a months ago was to attend school at HCC in the Diesel Mechanic program. It would have been very taxing, working 40 hours over the weekends and in class for 40 M-Thur. Not that I doubt my ability to keep up with that pace, but all of the personal things coming down at once around the same time, with my winter housing not quite figured, it was wise to put it off. Now this goal fits in nicely with my idea of doing something I love, though it will still likely force me to continue having someone else sign my checks. My greatest appeal is in learning actual physical skills and knowledge in which to apply those skills.

Another idea, which I will work toward this winter and possibly implement in the summer, is a gold prospecting adventure. This ties together many facets of life that I find terrific, but will not pan out in the money department. If it is somehow profitable, I would still see the likelihood of continuing as low, due to the wildly unpredictable nature of finding gold.

Idea number 3 is to write a book. I'm an okay writer and I know from experience that some fairly horse shit writers can still do okay. It would probably be either some sort of novel based loosely on things I've seen and experienced (aren't they all) or it would be based more in truth about some sort of adventurous mishap that I've fallen(thrown myself) into. I wouldn't expect greatness in this department, but it would be an interesting experiment on par with my musical writing and recording which has amused me over the years. No real chance of money, just some odd inner drive that exists, but isn't overpowering.

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Really I guess that comes to the heart of the matter. I want to become terribly obsessed with something. Obsessed to the point of sickness, constantly seeking some form of quality for quality's sake. I am far from a perfectionist, particularly when doing things for myself. When I work for other people, my eye becomes much, much sharper and exacting. I also have many interests which lead to distraction. I am also overwhelmed by "real life" which serves as a distraction. I think about living in an apartment with heated underground parking. Working a job close by, eating at small local restaurants, not being "dependent(though dependent in a whole new way)" on my own deliberate efforts to maintain quality of life(i.e. splitting wood, plowing the driveway, repairing the leaky roof, feeding the dog, cutting the grass, etc.) Maybe it is necessary to limit some of those peripheral tasks to gain some focus. I know they are part of my chosen lifestyle and I do take pride in them and the accompanying abilities of mine. They do not evoke the feelings of desire that I'm thinking of though.

I am also unsure what real overall goal I'm trying to find. A life lived well I suppose? Since religion and afterlifes(sic) left my thought process years ago I have to find some other end result that is satisfying to prevent hedonism or suicide. I like people to have a good image of me, though that's eroded more and more over the years. (The older you get, the less you care what ANYBODY thinks of you.)

But here, coming back to where I'm at now. I live in the woods very secluded from people, in a small cabin with no grid power or running water. There are harsh, long winters and buggy, hot summers. A lot of my spare time and money is spent improving the cabin, working on little projects(sauna, screen porch, wood shed, garage someday.) I work overnight security for decent money and benefits with a long commute(an hour and half). I get a lot of jet lag and I don't think this situation is "enough" for me. I can't settle for it in good conscience, even though it does make possible many activities that I enjoy. I like being busy, but I don't like being rushed. I enjoy helping my neighbors, friends and family with projects, but I don't like being tied into it for long periods of time.

Upon honestly looking at myself, I often come to the conclusion that I am simply a fickle and hypocritical individual. I seek. I find. I go seek something else. Rinse and repeat.

Chewing the Fat

600 extra calories in donuts today. Settling into the end of another 16 hour shift, running on 4 hours of sleep, and feeling downright excited for the future life. There isn't a race to run against anyone else. It's just me and my extra calories.

Another year has passed and again I live in a different place. I live in different circumstances, feeling different pressures. I weigh 180 in underwear, feel great, sleep little, worry less. Vacation and day shifts have given a marked improvement to my mood swings.Waking with the sun is a refreshing and secretly satisfying pleasure.

Some plans haven't worked out this year, some have. Nothing has crushed me. The autumn has come on gentle, easing me down, let me sleep in the cold without suffocating me under frost. Money situation is better. Car situation is better. Living situation is better. Relationship situation is better. Social situation is better. Health situation is better. Plus, I even grew my hair out for fun and winter warmth.

Down a Hole

I remembered just in time to take my wallet out of my pocket. Typically by the time I realize my mistake the name was been mostly scratched off the face of my credit card and driver's license. The clay silt gets deep into everything. Worse than going to the beach and finding sand in your swimsuit, the clay works its way into your fingernails and between your toes and behind your ears.

I remembered just in time to take my wallet out of my pocket and put it in the car. I remembered just in time how much I needed this today. It's cold, maybe 20 degrees F. It's warmer down the hole. This little clay foxhole I've dug by hand is nearly 5 ft deep. I reach down between my feet barely scraping handfuls of clay up and lifting them to the surface. The red stains cover my clothes, gloves and tools, even my hat is blemished. The wind is whipping around the corner of the cabin piercing my face every time I come to the surface gulping air before submerging again.

Everything else I do in my life becomes a little more focused as I pant for breath and strain against a creaking wooden handle. The clumps of red come out piece by piece. Happy to dig and feel my personal machinery working. I'm content with the labor, the dirt and the cold.

The clay will equalize you. You either dig a hole or you don't. You can give up because it's difficult, you could hurt yourself under the strain, or you can keep going one coffee can full at a time. I will change clothes when I get home. I'll throw them on the basement floor, but my car seats are stained. My work gloves, wore ragged, are light pink as the clay dries. Everything I touch or manipulate bears evidence of my passing. The clay is deposited whether I like it or not, it cannot truly be undone, washed away or removed. Weeks later my boots are still leaving clay prints where I walk.

My wallet will never be the same. The wear will not go away, it will not repair itself. It's been tarnished along with its contents inside. My plastic identities deformed, rubbed the wrong way and good for little but an impromptu guitar pick.

The progression

Thinking, as I often do when staying up all night, listening to the dull roar of sleeping life, I realized that I am again in a very different life situation for about the 5th time in as many years. It's not just about where I live, the place I call home or where I work or who I spend time. My milieu has changed, the activities and topics which dominate my time and steer my investments have been altered. The hobbies and skills which I thought defined my personality have been replaced by other things. Lately, speaking about the last 6 months, my environment and how I influence it is different.

I am a night worker, watching grown men sleep for most of my 10 hour shift, meeting interesting characters and having interesting conversations. I ride a motorcycle to work and back whenever possible, covering over 120 miles and spending over 2 hours in the saddle each day. Our old house needs bits of renovation and constant repair, so I find myself learning more about plumbing, electrical, masonry, and carpentry than I would normally be inclined. I say "our" because I share my life with a girl who is beautiful and intelligent, stubborn and opinionated and who causes me many moments of joy and anguish. We are trying this year to grow many vegetables, selling to friends, family, neighbors and the extended community of coops and restaurants. This farming venture has occupied much of my time, fixing things that break, preparing soil, and learning the process of how to best foster predictable and marketable growth.

Often times I think my life is defined by the problems I solve and physical things I repair. Irrigation pumps get drowned in a rising river, lawn mowers have delicate plastic pieces which shear off, cars suffer much wear and tear from long commutes to town, wood stoves need chimneys installed through roofs, roofs need patching to keep the rain out, greenhouses need rafters and walls rebuilt due to collapse from snow load. The complications of life have multiplied simply because of all the new factors which determine "success."

I have my hobbies. Things I thought were important and personally defining; hunting, fishing, camping, practicing primitive living skills, reading literature, playing guitar, taking road trips. Many of these have become less important as I spend more time weight lifting, gardening, playing soccer, fixing broken things, and preparing for winter.

Feeling strung out, spread too thin, stressed, run down, exhausted, or whatever sort of depressing descriptor you'd like, I am surprisingly sane. I find many moments of calm and fight the urge(thought sometimes lose) to become upset about losing control of life. I long for the times of a care free life. Much time was spent with friends. There were more random adventures and places to explore. I am very often alone, close to a hermit, but keeping in vague contact with those loyal few who I value for their character.

I still only weigh 170 pounds. I do not fill my clothes. Best shape of my life? It might be, but their is much more to gain yet. My physical body is more defined in line with my mental thoughts. I have a sharpness, a poignant no apologies attitude. If there is something to be ashamed of, I hope to already have considered it. Just as I continue to consider my progression, the uphill slide by the seat of my pants.

An Inspirational Bruce

Looking for inspiration when times get stressful, I try to remind myself that there is a certain dignity which can be maintained if your mental state is truly unperturbed by the forces of the world around you. It's something often talked about in the eastern religions and the phony self help section of Barnes and Noble. On a particular day, I went to the gym and felt my mind clear after pushing heavy objects around and sweating for an hour or so. The superficialities of time, money, and relationships melted away for that brief hour due to my focus on simply moving a weight in a certain direction with a certain part of my body. When I left, some of those superficialities moved back in, but not fully. Over time of course they did and my stress returned; the anxiety, the "woulda shoulda's," and the expectations put upon me by persons in my life.

I've always had an interest in the martial arts, both for the practicality of it and for the fitness of mind and body. However, I never pursued it. I never chose to study formally under any school or teacher, only picking up pieces gleaned through curiousity. More so recently, that curiousity is stronger, but not for the reasons I would have thought. I certainly first liked the thought of being able to defend myself and improve my skill set in dealing with the people I deal with on a day to day basis. You could call it the physical aspect of the arts. There are technical skills which can be learned, practiced over and over and put into play at very critical moments in order to ensure the safety of yourself or others. Now I find myself much more interested in the mental aspect of them. Someone that I know very little about, but always had an interest in and who seems to embody what I'm thinking of is Bruce Lee.

Despite his fame, I say despite because so often fame dilutes what wisdom could be gained from someone. He was known for his technical ability and unquenchable curiousity about fighting and more specifically, winning. However, I came across some sayings and quotes of his that I do draw inspiration from. Wisdom that is not really about fighting at all, simply about living and being happy.

"Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. "



This is actually a quote by William Channing, but for some reason I stumbled acrossed it as being connected to Bruce Lee and it pretty much sums it up.

"To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common -- this is my symphony."