Observations of Dwelling on the Liminal Steps of living and Living |
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| Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. —John Lennon What am I doing with my life? The seconds tick by and I am hunched over staring at a bright screen. My vision worsens. Day in and day out I tumble to school, to work, and back home. I sleep in a tent and awake to the cool morning air. Work is mundane and it slowly progresses as the dollars roll in. Dollars for the ability to sleep, to shower and have a light at night. To live. My resourcefulness has grown over the past eight months and my food is easily found. I have shed the skin of materialism and slowly I rid myself of things I have accumulated. My ideals are taking over and life is staring at my face. My plans are short-termed and rooted in the Now. In short, it is to be detached from both past and future and to line in the eternal Now. For in truth neither past nor future have any existence apart from this Now; by themselves, they are illusions. Life exists only at this very moment, and in this moment it is infinite and eternal. —Alan Watts Every day I feel estranged. Left out as if I missed the memo. My generation is desperately in love with technology. People around me stare relentlessly into shiny little boxes. As if these touch-screen devices have the answers to life. From Ipods to cellphones to YouTube videos. Idle minds with headphones plugged in, tuning the world out. I try to limit my use of these things. My mind gets cluttered and I have trouble thinking. I prefer open meadows and starry nights—shivering in the cold—these places have more to offer then an Iphone application. Am I disconnected with our culture? Disenchanted—yes. Technology is addictive. It is easy to crack out and stare into these captivating electric boxes for hours. I have done it. I am not opposed to technology completely. Learning with technology is one thing—sitting idle, indoors, staring into backlit oblivion—torture. I will not deny the fact I use a computer daily, I check my email, and I have an Ipod. But moderation is key. I get tense, distraught and un-shelved when I spend too much time on these things. My ears ring from the headphones and the lack of interaction with strangers. * * * Life began when I took my first breath. I realized this 22 years later while walking up a cement path leading to the wastewater dump of a shanty, yet beautiful, part of Taxco, Mexico. I turned around at the end of the path to see three kids rolling in laughter below. At me. All dignity was shed and I too, began to laugh. The smell was acrid. I embraced this infinite moment. This is the kind of experience I thrive on. They instill within me a sense of life and fulfillment. To me there is a difference between Living and living. Living with a capital L is what we are meant to do. Living with a little l is what must do. We clock in. We live to earn and spend the dollar. We do not heed to our adventurous inner being—the one wishing to get away from the daily grind and to Live and experience life in the eternal now. Experiences are more important than collecting things. Things have no value. Experiences have stories, wisdom—Vigor—behind them. They are rooted in the reality of the moment. The cubicle is rooted in the false necessity to earn a living. I want to Live a living. * * * I try to escape the mundane here in Reno. With a little help from my friends, the unexpected can be expected. Our seedlings are in full bloom and we will plant them in the ground soon. The hacky sack does not collect dust and the Frisbees keep floating. What breaks the mundane the most are our weekly foraging adventures. It is cheapest for grocery stores to throw away un-purchased food at the end of the day rather than donate or compost it for local farms. It is this food that feeds me. I eat healthier than ever before and it costs near to nothing. * * * It is mid June in Alaska but freezing. The clouds have sunk low and our tents measure visibility. The tent line, one after another, twenty feet apart, begins fifty feet from the dirty white canvas cook tent. Right now, the clouds hide all but one. In addition to the liquefied icy blob we reside in there is smoke from a forest fire. We heard on the National Park Radio this morning about a wildfire burning several miles south. The smoke adds to the surrealism. The smoke mixes with the Labrador tea and the smell is noble. Two days now and we Live according to the daily conditions. We cannot go out and survey for archeological sites—the bears will have a gourmet buffet. With low visibility, the danger in the bush can chill any nerve. We pass the time playing chess and boiling water to heat the cook tent. My thermometer reads 50 degrees and with the moisture it is icy. I poke my head out, “Two tents!” I exclaim. My glasses instantly adhere to the mist. We discuss dinner and the following day. If the weather improves we hike north and survey the area just before the mountain canyon. If not—more chess. I stuff my toes back under Thule, our resident St. Bernard. Her warmth keeps my toes from turning black. * * * Define living: As a Verb 1: to be alive : have the life of an animal 2: to continue alive 3: to maintain oneself As a Adjective 1 a: having life 2 a: exhibiting the life or motion of nature 3 a: full of life or vigor (Merriam-Websters Dictionary) As a verb, living is to be alive. As an adjective, living is to be full of vigor. Vigor is defined as having good health. Healthfully alive. But mental health is tough to maintain. Adventure keeps me sharp and my stories maintain my vigor. At times I falter. Busy with work, papers, and classes. I notice I am sharpest in the summers. Or during breaks from both work and school. I graduate soon and my plans do not follow tradition. No job lined up. No grad school options. No epic paid-for Europe backpacking trip. What makes sense for me is to quit my job and travel. Life is too short to immediately jump into the pool of fishes swimming daily, nine-to-five. Life is too short for pension plans. I will not travel aimlessly. I will travel with a purpose. With another we will see the world, meet people and share stories. I have few experiences with Living but what I have—makes sense. Travelling can be cheap. I see too many people neglecting the impulse we all have for travel. Many people choose a bowl over an ocean to swim in and forgo many experiences, which help to define our existence. Everyone rising and rushing to work. Working to pay the bills and put food in our stomachs. A natural biological necessity, one natural and free to all other species, costs us humans years and years of work. Rising in the morning, in a box. Driving to work, in a box. Shopping at the store, which is a box, just to return back home to a box costing a lifetime of debt to acquire. Our food comes in boxes. And when we die—a box (for most). For now I refuse to accept this lifestyle. This is what our existence has come to and before I join the boxes I need to experience the unexpected. Living should not be defined by boxes made of ticky-tacky. * * * "So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun." —Chris McCandless I first came across these words the summer of 2008 while in Alaska. Less than a hundred miles from the bus that Chris inhabited. The summer prior I camped a few miles north and found the gauging station that could have saved his life. And the summer before, I hovered over the same bus he died in. Chris McCandless graduated college with honors and acceptance into law school. Indignant with the way things were, much like myself, he took to the road to make amends. He found joy in adventure. His travels took him all over the country for two years and culminated with a grand trip North. Alaska. It was here he suffered a painful accident. Consuming wild potato seeds leaving his body unable to absorb nutrients—he starved to death. But from his journal we know he died happy. Since reading Into the Wild, I have been taking doses of his philosophy and discovering the offerings of life through adventure. The withdrawals are stiffer and harder to handle. The time spent not Living hits me like a train wreck. I have the initiative. * * * The past month in my house has been a non-stop community. People have come and gone and food has been shared like water. Our dishes are piled high and we are all too busy to clean them. And when the time comes—it will be communal. We are hosting three travelers at the moment. Folks whom have given up on the idea of a career to Live. To travel. To experience the Now, which is often neglected. At one point, there was a bus, van and Mercedes-Benz parked in front of our house—all three of them run on used veggie oil. Now only the van occupies our driveway and two of the travelers have left. The bus is driven by Jeff. He has been travelling for six months—for free. His bus cost less than $4500 to purchase and outfit. He inspires. He is travelling the country to show a documentary: Zeitgeist—Addendum. In addition, he volunteers everywhere. He has already spent several hours here in Reno volunteering at the local food Cooperative. Before he was cooking and serving food three times a day in California. He has initiative. My roommates, girlfriend and I all want to hop on the bus to Live. But we can’t. It is through this hosting of travelers that I find myself able to accept the mundane. With weekly foraging for juice, fruits, vegetables and more, it helps break the monotony. In four weeks I graduate from six years of college. I can’t drop it all now—but it is hard not to. It is right in front of me and I am unable to capitalize. But I am not a fan of Capitalism anyways. * * * What really matters in life is to enjoy what we do. We must find happiness everywhere. It is all around us as we bumble around our daily routines. I find it in the dumpster full of fresh fruit and vegetables. I find it on the liberating longboard rides home from work. I find it within a small circle of friends playing hacky sack. I find it in the realization of the eternal and infinite Now. Living is the same as living just with more awareness and acceptance. I have learned a career is nothing more than a twentieth century invention. One followed by many for the pursuit of happiness. A career is both good and bad thing. It has the potential to lock up the soul into steady stagnation. Freedom, adventure and expression may be limited. There are exceptions, always, but the majority has none. I have had dreams about finding that perfect job which fit my ideals and passions in life. Right now music makes the most sense to me. But what I realized is most important—to Live life. To know life does not start when I graduate college, or find a job, or get married. Life is happening Now. My role in society, or any artist's or poet's role, is to try and express what we all feel. Not to tell people how to feel. Not as a preacher, not as a leader, but as a reflection of us all. —John Lennon |
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