Birds deep in their song, hidden in the fur of branches in Pawtuckaway park are a gift after months of snow and ice.
Nature runs in our blood like whiskey in a drunk. We’re bred to explore, to feel the wind in our faces and to sweat under a glaring sun.
We are as wild at heart as the buffalo and the bear.
Never mind the water snakes.
No matter how far you travel from where you were born you are never truly lost if you open your heart to the wild. For there is wild in every corner of the earth. Whether it is splashing in a cold lake on a hot day, pulling yourself up a mountain or hanging on for dear life on the back of a horse.
You can find home in a million places but you have to find you first.
Everything falls into place after that.
The first day of the season.
Geese were paddling gaily in the open stretches of lake streams. The wind was playing in the eaves as a scandic child would in snow. Only hazes of clouds that could have been, floated in the clear blue. There was nothing missing here. It was everything and nothing.
Nothing we needed. Nothing we couldn’t over come.
Everything was just the two us walking through a wood.
Chipmunks spitting out nut shells, baby squirrels leaping from bed to branch and the water snakes slithering in the under growth, this is living.
So many have been denied the art of living.
Everyday the same.
It doesn’t have to be us.
And it doesn’t have to be you.
Paint like you did when you were four with your fingers all in that mess.
Run like you were running the olympics. Run to all those dreams your adult self decided weren’t meant to be.
Yes, you have to work to live, but you must always remember that you live for you.
The wild will always be calling you — open the damn window and listen.
Like my ancestors before me, i travelled so many miles from my little home in Denmark all those years ago; to wake up every morning under a new sun and see what the world had to offer me.
Walking the path of a wanderer in the free of it.
That meant putting certain things on hold and risking everything to find something bigger or better.
My love of the stage, comedy, sailing which was like breathing to me and the old captain who lives on without me.
Its all worlds away now.
And whilst my family and my shipmate, live all those thousands of miles from me — i know that i carry them with me on my shoulders everyday.
The hardships, the laughter and the memories.
The days we sailed through life without a care for anything.
With every post card, every photo in an envelope — they can live as i do.
In the mountains.
On the Texas plains.
By the sea.
I’d be lying if i said it wasn’t terribly hard to be gone, but you have to walk the way your heart goes.
Mine raced far ahead of me with the wind.
Who am i to deny it?
As long as the wind blows i’ll never catch it.
The wind will never stop blowing, and i shall always trail my heart to wherever it is supposed to go.
I don’t where i’ll end up but i’m lucky to have someone to go with me.
This weekend we lost ourselves in these woods.
We laughed like idiots, i got my feet wet and Jack turned into Gandalf the blue-eyed.
And as i mentioned on facebook,
no one got eaten by a bear.
“Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors.”
“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.” —J.B. Priestley
I’ve started running in the evenings, and taking “mini” nature hikes. Something i haven’t done for almost 6 years — since i lived in the UK. Sitting in the middle of the forest path alone with my mind, watching chipmunks and squirrels beating each other over the size of nuts and listening to the hawk flutter his span in the branches. Walking around the woods with no one but me, with my mane of hair hanging at my elbows, just like it always should be. Sometimes i swear i can hear my ancestors out there telling me to get my ass in gear and do what i was meant to.
Why, I can’t tell you how good its been for my soul.
The dangerous thing is its got me reflecting.
I’ve noticed that some of my blog posts come across a little blue or negative. The thing about me is that i’m not necessarily a sad person, but i am a wondering person. A ponderer. Often my writing gets misconstrued as the negative ramblings of a depressive soul — no. Whilst i’m prone to the emotion on a relatively consistent basis, thats not to say thats all i see. Having said that — let’s get in deeper.
Recently things haven’t been going the way i’d planned, at all — i would say things had gone completely to utter shit but i’m going to look at it as positively as i can. In itself — that for me is a struggle. That wasn’t my road, and i know what its like to walk in the wrong direction only to keep walking. This time i turned my ass 90 degrees and walked some place else. You see i lost my job not long ago… well “lost” and “lost.” Through no fault of my own the job is no more. A job i gave up two other jobs for and i basically got pissed on like some lame ass fire in a barrel, just as i was trying to warm the hands of the poor by my flame. I wont say it ruined my life, because i work to live — i don’t live to work.
But of course i was peeved.
Who wouldn’t be?
Hold up, wait a minute.
Thanks to Jack, and his magical ways, he pulled me back.
“I fully support you to be creative, thats what makes you happy, you’re good at it — and thats what you should do.”
I swear, if i could “Bottle” his way of being — i’d uncork that bottle and get high on his train of thought.
He really is the dick to my balls.
Life has its challenges, and its not supposed to be easy. I should be thankful for the struggle, and i am — because it means my novels are as well fed as chubby milk cows. Oh my many many unfinished novels. Sometimes i find it so hard to face those hundreds of hours of neglected work. To see all those pages from my soul wasted on a hard drive somewhere waiting for me to finishing them, all stories from places that drain me and break me. But the novels are closure from pain, grief and regrets — i deserve that. Closure, but i don’t need it. Past is past and everything is what it is.
And today was a wonderful day, even though i pulled two ticks out of my leg. See positivity does wonders, no?
They say you should always look on the bright side of life, but thats not what i do. I live in the dark corners of every day. Where the lurkers sit and smoke together watching life roll by. We know what it is to hurt and we don’t play into those new movements everyones singing about, because we know what we do and we wont stop doing it. He or she this and that. Sometimes i think i’m physically incapable of thinking positively. Thats simply not how i’m wired and it makes for some of my best writing. I’m a depressive soul, a poet with a nosebleed and a writer with an anxiety complex. Sometimes i’m just a bastard for no reason, but as i said. It makes for honest work as raw as a bone.
And living with negativity the way i do means that when i see beauty, i see it hard and heavy.
It leaves me breathless like a hefty smack to the chops. And though it may be forgotten and replaced by a negative thought — i can be grateful that i got the chance to see it at all.
That being said. No matter how deeply i disappear into cruelty of my novels or negativity, i have Jack to make me laugh till i fart, and you know what?
Thats the best thing that happens to me all day.
I’m happy lucky to have him to bring me back to where i should be.
So a few nights ago i saw this beautiful and frankly, astounding documentary about André René Roussimoff, famously known as Andre The Giant.
And it caught me thinking.
A man with a soul such as his and all he wanted in the end was to live in peace. He started with nothing, and ended with everything — he worked for what he had, but in the end what did he truly want?
To drive around his ranch in North Carolina that reminded him of his beautiful France over 3000 miles to the east, and be away from photographers, negative people and the pain of memories.
To be truly him.
I tried doing what others do — going out and working 9 to 5 jobs that don’t sit right with me, but you gotta work for your meals.
I’ve wiped asses, i’ve struggled till my knuckles bled and i’ve cried over the stupidity of the many terrible bosses/managers i’ve come across.
I’m in charge.
*que deep ambient – yet hardcore cinematic music*
Let’s all try to live a little more like André the giant wished he could have.
Savour every quiet moment, the sound of the birds and the walks other people don’t take.
Do what makes you absolutely happy to breathe every morning. Do what makes your chest pump 5 times harder. Do what makes you weep. No one is happy all the time and every feeling you get is an important one.
So i’m going to be creative. I’m going to finish those novels hiding on hard drives, i’m going to publish those poems, i’ll clown around like i was born to do and i’ll be damned — i’m gonna figure out how to bottle Jacks mind and sell it for profit if everything goes tits in a hand basket.
But i will leave you with this.
“Today could be my last night, tonight could be my last night, it doesnt matter. I just keep going..” André.
So what about you? What should you be doing?
Darling, go do it.
In someplace New Hampshire the sun finally sprung. Spring has begun to bloom and the snow that we had last week seems forever past. We had sunshine today. Birds were singing of summer nights to come and green buds are popping up between all the broken branches like little bulbs of hope.
Its not Texas anymore — so we don’t have 100 degrees in April and we’re definitely not drinking margaritas whilst getting bled dry by mosquitoes, but summer is officially on its way to New England.
Its no secret that New England is not the place that i’ll be buried. My life doesn’t match the culture here, but i’m proud to say that i tried it. In truth i believe its because it reminds me too much of why i wanted to leave England after all those years. I got the t-shirt so to speak, however, at least wherever i go the country is beautiful. There no denying that.
I always roam just out of reach because thats where life begins.
Jack and i are making note to walk as many of the trails as we can before we move on to our next adventure, to see as much of the nature of New Hampshire and Maine as we can. As i said it reminds me of old England with the stoney beaches, fresh green trees, hidden caves and slim country roads.
I’m hoping to come across a bear or a moose, as long as its not with the bonnet of the car or while we’re lost in the woods somewhere. I don’t fancy turning to scat before hit my prime…. if ever. I keep a log of the wildlife i see in America — and i’m always looking to add new fantastic beasts to add to my list. Its very Stephen Maturin of me — don’t know who he is? Look him up and read the books.
At some point i’ll dig out my list of American Animalia that i’ve come across. That could be interesting.
Theres nothing like adventuring with a Texas boy — he can find the country in anything. We drove with the windows down and country music crooning through our speakers. Living in some 80’s B movie.
I’m an old soul from a dusty old book forgotten on a dead actors bookshelf.
Jack says my hair is as red as the texas sunset – he says the best things to me. A man who single handedly changed my life and opened my eyes to living.
My heart was bound for the ocean, but i live dreaming ever onwards to somewhere i may never reach and now reaching anything doesn’t mean a damn thing. What matters is who i’m surrounded with on the way. Thats what makes travelling what it is — the freedom to live as free as a soul bound for somewhere with another’s heart on my sleeve. Cities and people aren’t my bag — i have my wolf-pack and the people that have changed my life but my game is in the rustling leaves, in the sap between the wrinkles of tree trunks, between the cloud where i fly, in the rock pools or in the nostrils of a bucking horse through monument valley. A caged bird wont sing.
I wont write if i don’t feel.
“Remain true to yourself, child. If you know your own heart, you will always have one friend who does not lie.”