My first night solo

There are no words to describe my day today.  I know that I am loved and missed.  I know that I love and miss.  As I was thinking about today, I realized that I cannot talk about it.  It is too raw and emotional for me.  But I can talk about a time earlier in my life that had a similar feeling, but without the permanence.  When Angie was pregnant with Jacob we flew out east.  She had a week long conference and I was going to hike the Appalachian Trail solo.  I was very excited and was as prepared as one can be.  I had packed all of the necessary equipment, physically prepared myself for the struggle and thought I knew what I was getting into.  When we arrived in Maryland we took the rental car up into Pennsylvania.  I had a rough idea of where of the AT crossed a certain road.  I would take the trail south through Maryland down to Harper's Ferry.  By the time we had reached PA it was dark and beginning to rain.  We were on a small 2 lane black top road in the middle of nowhere.  I saw the sign for the AT.  Angie pulled the car off onto the side of the road.  My heart was racing as I put on my rain jacket, shouldered my pack and told Angie I would see her in a week.  It was blind faith in my own resolve and preparation that led me into the woods.  As I stepped off the road and Angie pulled away, I was truly alone.  I was homesick, heartsick and scared instantly.  I trudged in for several minutes before finding a place to set up camp.  I knew what to do because Angie and I had done these things together several times, but this was the first time on my own.  I was fine.  I ate a cold supper, had a restless sleep and the next morning I began the journey of a lifetime.  It was a seminal experience in my life.  I look back fondly at every minute I spent on that trail, even that first night.

I have just stepped off the pavement again.  I know I will have a restless sleep.  And I know that I am on a life changing journey.  In this case I don't know what Harper's Ferry looks like, but I know that I have a path to follow.  I got lost at least once on my hike and anticipate that I will feel lost at least once in the coming months.  I believe I have given myself the necessary tools to get through, I am prepared physically and believe I have the map to find Harper's Ferry.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step - Lao-tzu

Here we go!

I have had really hard time writing this one.  I am on the edge of the precipice and there is no turning back.  I am glad that there is no way to reverse my course.  It would merely lead to the status quo.  I am ready to leap.  The changes that are coming are mind numbing.  The number, the severity and the overall scope.  This coming monday will resemble the previous monday in name only.  The job will be different, the town, the dwelling, the surroundings, the emotions, everything.  It is scary.  It is invigorating.  It is unstoppable.  There will be no turning back.  I have been doing my new job for 1 day.  So far, I love it.  The level of stress does not hold a candle to the previous job.  The job is steady and constant.  It is exactly what I need during this time of upheaval.  I am at a loss for words.  And that is something that doesn't happen often.
So, I will just go and experience it.   It may not always be what we thought it was going to be, but until we start to take control of ourselves we will never have a say in it.  I choose to turn this adventure into a positive, seminal moment.

Closure on a county

I have 2 weeks left in Dekalb County, MO.  FYI, the L is silent.  One of the things about moving on is you have to leave somewhere.  I have always liked Dekalb County.  I have lived here for a little over 7 years and been visiting for 15.  When we first moved here I really enjoyed the way that the community worked.  I enjoyed the fact that dozens vacationed together to the same spot every year, and we were included.  I enjoyed going to neighbor's house to butcher beef and hogs with family and friends.  We celebrated holidays with friends as much as family.  I felt like I had moved back into the county that my mother grew up in.  I felt it gave me the roots I had always wanted.  A place where the land had a history and my boys and I were going to write our story on that same land.  I will never have a piece of my families history and I wanted my boys to have a piece of their own.  Luckily, their stories have not been written yet.  They will still have the opportunity to insert themselves into the history of the land if they so chose.  That will not be the case for me.  The farm that I bought has been sold to a huge corporation that apparently has no intention of using the land.  And my dream of making my living off of the sweat of my brow alone is gone.  Alas, that is the nature of dreams.  They are vivid, lifelike and undecipherable mysteries.  They lead us places that we could not have imagined ourselves going.  But the dead, withered dream becomes the fertilizer for the next.  I have embarked on many different paths over my 37 years.  Each one led by a new dream.  Some of those dreams never made it past a seedling and others grew, matured and died at an appropriate time.  But each was a worthwhile venture.   This one was no different.  Each path we chose writes it's history on us as much as we write on it.  I will be moving out of Dekalb County a very different man than I was when I got here.  I am appreciative of that.

The Barefoot Rover

I have not posted a blog in quite some time.  With the ease and continuous stream of twitter I never felt it necessary.  I have once again been awakened deep inside with that need to share myself in a more meaningful way with anyone willing to look.  Vulnerability is a hard word to spell and a hard way to live.  It seems that perhaps one can't fully know who they are without being willing to tear away the flesh and peer deep inside with no fear of letting those who share your life, even for a brief moment, to discover you at the same time.  I have discarded the Anarchist in Boots for the new Barefoot Rover.  I no longer wear boots and I no longer feel like an anarchist.  It is a label that does not come close to describing me.  I spend far more time barefoot than I ever have before.  I am about to begin a wonderful, scary, tumultuous journey.  There are times in one's life that you truly feel the part of sojourner, rambler, traveler.  Where the road is obscured by fog and you have no idea what lies behind that next bend, but unafraid you place one foot in front of the other and move forward.  This is one of those times.  These times require an inordinate amount of strength, patience and courage.  One thing that I learned over the last year is that without pain you will not get stronger.  This is not a pain that you feel because of something that someone else does, but a pain that you have brought on yourself by hard work.  While training for the Tough Mudder, I would push myself to the point of pain nearly every day.  Watching someone else work out isn't going to make me stronger.  Even just knowing how to get stronger is not enough to get it done.  I have to move into a place where I am willing to push myself to the point of pain because I know that without work there is no pain.  Without pain there is no growth.  Without growth there is only stagnation then death.  I view this as critical in every aspect of my life.  Emotionally, physically and metaphysically if I don't work I atrophy.

Peace and Love are my new goals for both myself and for you