When I tell people what I’m going through, most folks get it. Some have similar moments or their empathy helps them understand. Other folks don’t understand. It’s not in their interest, or they live in a different, institutional worldview. For those of you reading this I’ll try a succinct explanation before I get into the trip.
Why quit my job in a lucrative year, clear my house of stuff, and drive west with few plans and no concrete date to return? In the past, traveling through the Southwest, I always wanted to return with enough time to slow down and explore. Spring or fall is the time to go but school always gets in the way. Now I’m a parent with an empty nest, some savings in the bank, and I’m a disillusioned teacher with frustrated resentments of our education system. A system that tries, and fails, to squeeze the joy out of youth.
The journey is the purpose and I ain’t getting younger. So shut out the voices of normal society and get my ass in gear. There are passages in life that must be endured and achieved. Coming of age, bonding & homemaking, death of parents, elder-hood. Can we postpone or avoid these transitions? Or will they remain, lurking underwater like a fish probing the marshes edge for sustenance? I’ve done my fair share of avoiding, fearful of grief and loss. Now I welcome this siren. The hawk glides over canyons, talons extended prepared to grasp.
Leaving Home
Parked on Lutterloh Rd, I’m looking in my rear view mirror and a whole family of turkeys, 1 2 3 4 5 adult turkeys are walking down the road, eating grass & bugs. I love this place. Its broad skies and lush agrarian landscape, the mafic outcrops keep flora diverse.
Hiking among these low rolling hills, I’m thinking about life’s purpose. My son is grown, and I’m burnt out trying to save this world with garden education. I need to take better care of myself. Perhaps that could be my purpose for now. It’s a good place to start.
I stopped in the NC mountains to plant some trees along a creek. Now I hustle through two states to see my son Jasper perform at the Tulsa State Fairgrounds. Lumberjack show. I’m listening to David Brooks’ The Second Mountain. Its a great reflection on my moment of life shifting from an ego based career to a vocation based in soul and community. I’m so proud that Jasper has the wisdom to postpone another year of college and follow his passion.
Midnight in Arkansas, dispersed camping with the owls. I’ve been leaving shit behind me on the road. A power cord, or a chair 200 miles east is gone. I guess I’ll keep losing stuff. Whatever is left is mine.
Beyond Tennessee
My mother had a little bitterness nested in her anti-quaker zeal. She bristled against the self effacing, 1950’s good-girl ethics, and she loved outdoorsy men. I suppose that’s the seed of my authority issues, that and my father’s noble warrior drive to improve the world. I’m most proud of his 1952 sophomore year at Hampton University. But I was mama’s boy and her methods were subversive, radical. We romanticize the hobo, the cowboy, the rebel wanderer, and we planted seeds. A little Pete Seeger mixed with James Dean and Edward Abbey.
What’s with all these white vans with tinted windows. Either there’s a major conspiracy I don’t know about, or Tennessee is the geographic epicenter of our nation’s shadow side.
How ironic, the great coffee shop I found this morning in Oklahoma City is Christian. They provide a clear mirror to examine my own conflicted faith. All four of my grandparents worked for the church. I wrestle with the intolerance I inherited from my pious American pioneer stock. Their roots took well to the newly tilled soil fertilized with indigenous blood.
I’m thinking about my voice and how it interacts with anger. I disrespect anger, mine is often judging, egotistical, and intolerant. And when my lesser self comes into these conservative flyover towns, I quickly find fault with the coffee, the sprawl, and the over consumption of meaningless crap. I’m getting sick of Christian radio stations too. We came to America to avoid persecution, not commit it.
There is a spiritual place for anger as Jesus modeled. He railed vehemently against the hypocrites, “you Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness“. I love the teachings of Jesus but not the Christian project. I want to sit quietly to see and know these American people. I’m looking for divination between expressions of selfish fury and righteous anger. I want this journey to heal my soul, to release my bitterness and deepen my love for land and people.
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