"Good call, dad."
Micrommunity
Sitting in a small-town coffee shop reading my book and enjoying a coffee cake. No frills, but clean and bright and surprisingly spacious. A group a dozen or so older ladies is gathered around a table engaging in lively and friendly conversation…well, conversations. A wonderful group of friends perfectly comfortable and happy to spend time with one another and discussing anything and everything that comes to mind. They’re a community unto themselves and a microcosm of small-town life. Even a fly on the wall, I feel both relaxed and energized by their presence, which seems to emanate “welcome.”
The Curse of Routine
I’m feeling the need to have some prolonged solo time. I love having access to my parents and the natural beauty of my childhood home, but I’m finding myself mired into an adopted routine that best matches the routine of my parents. The best way to break from that routine might be a change of scenery and some dedicated alone time. Then again, I might find myself distracted by the lack of regular social interaction. Only one way to find out.
Bismark Park
Bismark, ND. I’ve never spent any time in North Dakota as an adult, so I decided to spend a night here on my return from Minnesota. I’m enjoying a hot chocolate at a little coffee shop (Terra Nomad) while I reflect on my recent visit with friends and contemplate what I want for my future—and how that has been shaped by my past.
My friend “Joseph” and I had a chance to have some great conversations late into the night during my visit and I’m once again confronted with the feeling of longing for infinite free time to spend with my people.
I’ll occasionally buy a lottery ticket—it is more for the exercise of hope for unrestricted potential. A blank slate for daydream imagination combined with a problem-solving panacea.
Minnesota is beautiful and green. Most of the little towns hit a lot of my dream-home buttons: sparse populations; tight and bustling communities; quality local shops, bakeries, and delis; well-maintained and cared for public spaces; beautiful old architecture; virtues of hard work, respect, honesty, and balance all clear and effortless. If there were mountains and milder summers (with fewer bugs), I’d become a resident tomorrow.
Is it possible to replicate the success of these dream conditions elsewhere? I kind of think it is. When I visited Germany and Slovenia, I got a similar impression (though it was admittedly a brief sample). Both of those visits included mountains, so what’s keeping me from moving there? If money were no object, I might be compelled to test out such a move, but ultimately the truly lacking variable would be my friends and family. At the end of the day, I need my people.
*Does that mean I should try to make my people (i.e. marriage and children)?
**Should I try to transplant my people to the same location?
***Should I find a way to be happy with limited access to my people?
Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby
It’s pretty easy to get discouraged about the state of the world and the apparent path we’re taking: political division…violence…extreme environmental effects…cynicism…depression…youth in revolt…and no apparent end in sight. We’re blessed to be in a time of unprecedented access to information, yet cursed with convenience without toil. Much of the world struggles to identify fundamental truth in morality or even understand the value of connection to one another. My analytical mind begins to spin with growing momentum with so many troubles without firm solutions and while I’m fully aware that the most productive activity is just to let go and enjoy peace and quiet, I feel like I need to find answers to these troubling questions. That’s my responsibility…isn’t it?
What if it isn’t?
What if my real responsibility is to exercise patience and chip off moments of understanding as I go?
What if that sense of security and protection I once enjoyed as a child without responsibility is still possible—as long as I can recognize where bedrock lies? There’s strength hidden within freedom…when you can choose how much a thing can hurt you…rather, you can choose to feel something stronger than hurt.
Trouble Closing the Door
After not hearing from Emma for a few days, she finally responded that she didn’t feel there was sufficient chemistry between us and she wished me luck for the future. We had had barely three dates in the course of eight months, so there was plenty we didn’t know about each other. She was also moving thousands of miles away and any continued courtship seemed unlikely. Realistically, the fact that she didn’t feel a spark should have been as good a reason as any to call things off.
Unfortunately, my heart didn’t agree.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that my imagination has a tendency to run away with itself, particularly when it comes to romance. I’m prone to “imaginary girlfriends” or proximity infatuations as mental exercises and daydreams. Too often I’ll create an image of a girl in my imagination that requires very little in the way of anecdotal support. These exercises are distractions and don’t survive much longer than the few moments I’m daydreaming.
When it comes to an actual relationship, I do a pretty decent job of checking my romantic brain at the door and actually discovering more about the real woman. I try not to assign any extra significance beyond what she provides and I try to let things evolve naturally. Most of the time, the results are similar to what Emma described and in the vast majority of cases, the lack of “spark” recognition is mutual. In this case, despite my best efforts, I felt myself imagining the future with Emma. I still tried to take things slow so as to avoid getting too far ahead of myself. In retrospect, my applying brakes to keep a slower pace may have resulted in my sapping the romantic “spark” from our interactions, leaving Emma with the impression of a platonic interest.
If it’s true that my actions created a false impression, does that change anything? Doesn’t the fact that I was able to feel something that Emma was not evidence that even the fledgling relationship was doomed to imbalance? Should I still strive for a relationship of (close to) even pacing and balance? The fact that we were platonically compatible would definitely be a positive sign in a romantic relationship, but being friends does not necessarily translate into being lovers. The last thing that I want is to fall in love with someone who does not love me in return.
It’s possible that this was just another temporary detour as I continue the search for…whatever I’m meant to find. It definitely felt different from the rest.
Coffee Date
I went to visit Emma in Wyoming. She was in the area on a road trip east and we had a chance to reconnect. It got me thinking about the nature of our decisions in life—specifically our motivations for difficult choices. I tend to be pragmatic much of the time, but the real motivations seem to be self-preservation in the form of risk aversion and a measured dose of romance as a means of embracing freedom. Freedom. That is a concept that seems to be stitched into my soul. I find myself valuing freedom above most things…part of my risk aversion is to keep from excluding other possibilities. Do I value freedom because it allows for infinite possibility and hope or do I value possibility and hope because they are expressions of freedom?
Tough Mother
Visited my friend “Trevor” in Kalispell today. Trevor suffered two strokes just before this past Christmas and he is working on his physical therapy and recovery. He’s 35 years old.
When I first met up with Trevor, he was standing on his porch and I couldn’t tell if anything was different. After he started walking down the stairs, the mobility struggles became apparent with his left foot dragging and the stilted cadence of his gait. We went for a hike and he answered a lot of the questions I had on the way. I learned that he had two rare forms of stroke simultaneously that should have left him unable to speak or walk—making the progress he’d already made that much more remarkable. He still struggles with recall (though I didn’t personally witness any gaps) and his kinesthetic awareness for his left limbs. His vision is also impaired, but he has already seen improvement there, prior to any lens correction.
He was angry and frustrated with what he viewed as slow progress, but he also demonstrated his personal fortitude by predicting a full recovery. I mentioned that patience has never been his strong suit (a sentiment to which he claimed resentment, but also grudgingly admitted as accurate).
I felt much better about his condition and prospects after that one visit—he’s strong and determined and he has great support from his family and their local community. I’m looking forward to my next visit and witnessing the new progress he’ll undoubtedly make.
Through an Open Door
While visiting my brother, I received a text message from Emma informing me that she was moving to Wyoming and that it would be cool if we could meet up sometime. I was pretty stoked to hear from her, since I’d always felt like we had missed out on the chance to get to know each other due to poor timing, but I’m also trying to keep realistic expectations. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in the future and it sounds like her plans are equally uncertain, but it still seems like we should meet up to see if there’s any potential. She’s going to be pretty busy working on a horse ranch, but I’m sure we can find time to meet up.
Just Another Morning
I am taking my mom to breakfast this morning, so I am up before 7am.
The air smells like Springtime and there are rain clouds instead of snow.
After I drop my mom off at work, I take a drive in the country—which is pretty much anywhere outside the city limits of our small town—and I reach a stretch of road without encountering another soul for miles. This is a unique feeling of home…to be the only person in a place teeming with life. Trees, birds, deer, fish in the stream, rolling clouds in the sky…there’s peace and energy in that life. I love humans, but there’s something sacred about a moment alone with life.
Travel Update
Last day in Seattle: 1/31/2019
First day in the world: 2/1/2019
I spent the month of February traveling around visiting friends and family:
About a week with my friends in Yakima—playing with the kids, eating delicious home cooking, working on random projects with my good friend. No TV, just quality time.
About a week with my brother and his family in Idaho—playing with my nephews and niece, enjoying the snow (then shoveling TONS of snow), video games and quality time, and moving the last of my worldly possessions into my brother’s shop as I prepare to launch officially on the road.
About a week at my folks’ place in Montana - trying to keep the house warm amid -20F temperatures and snow. Loading firewood and adopting my dad’s routing of retirement (a lot of TV, but also trips to town for lunch with my mom while she is at work). The waterline breaks just as I am preparing to make a trip to visit my friends in Wyoming, leaving my mom and dad without water, but they are prepared with bottled and water from town.
About a week with my friends in Wyoming—playing video games and watching TV with my good friends. A nice balance of mindless entertainment, challenging boardgames, and stimulating conversation that reminds me of college. The old rhythm is there, though the perspectives may have evolved.
A few days in Colorado visiting my cousin and his family—playing with the kids and some more great quality time and conversation. I really value reconnecting with my cousin and I am thrilled to see how his kids are turning out (all of my nieces and nephews are such wonderful children who are glowing testaments to the efforts of their parents, but also examples of the consistent and awesome spirit of their youth).
The last half of March has been spent transporting water and assessing the water situation. Now that the snow has started melting, we’ve been able to trace the water to a leak in the line and after a lot of digging, we revealed crack in the line that will likely mean replacing the line altogether. There’s something therapeutic about the labor—a single task of digging in the rolling foothills with snowcapped mountains beyond; vast blue sky with high clumps of clouds and bright sunshine warming my back and head (along with the effort of the toil); the radio providing a rhythm, but the real soundtrack is the breeze in the pine trees and the birds calling to one another. It’s a familiar feeling from my childhood, but it feels much older than that…a primal resonance that’s more than just memories from my childhood home. It’s a perfect moment in time and I’ll honor it properly by just letting it be.
Yakima
Visiting my good friends, "H-bomb" and "Hammer" and their two boys on my way east. The kids (both under 7 years old) are pretty into skiing and they are eager to take me on my first trip to the mountain. I lived in Montana my whole life and never tried skiing--partly because we never had much extra money growing up, but even later in life, I felt like I had "missed the window" to start--but ultimately, my hangups seem like excuses to stay in my comfort zone, so I embrace taking the plunge and rent some ski equipment.
The experience proves to be a greater challenge than I had anticipated. I take a two-hour lesson and feel more confident on the flat land, but when I attempt a steeper hill, I'm reminded that I have a lot to learn (i.e. I fall a lot and struggle with stopping). That's enough skiing for one day.
There's plenty of other activity to occupy our time. Hammer constructed a custom kitchen table from scratch and we haul it from the wood shop to the house on a trailer. Time for some Mario Kart.
Life and Love
Busy few months.
I had been using an online dating app and ended up getting matched up with two different women—one with whom I had been matched up in the past, but never had the opportunity to meet. After meeting "Emma", I was pretty optimistic about exploring a relationship, even though I was still intending to move. She seemed to share my perspective on living a slower-pace in a more remote location, but it was still too early in the courtship to tell how much we had in common.
She ended up having her own demons to fight before she would be ready for a relationship, so she politely ended things before they really had a chance to start. I don’t hold any animosity and I recognize that it was probably the best decision, but I can’t help feeling disappointed.
A childhood friend suffered a brain aneurysm earlier this week. He’s on the long road to recovery, but it shook me. I considered my own mortality and health, but also the possibility of others in my life suffering similarly. The inevitability of my family growing older. I’m grateful for the time we’ve shared and I don’t really want to start preparing myself for the worst-case scenarios.
Is that wrong?
I’m similarly procrastinating when considering my impending transition from work. I have nebulous fantasies about how I’ll spend my time and support myself—my review website isn’t even built, let alone set up to generate any revenue and I haven’t even fully moved from my apartment, let alone planned for my next permanent housing. I’m excited to travel and visit friends, but ultimately, I want to settle someplace and enjoy an extended measure of peace.
Walk Through the Woods
I’m sitting at Wood’s Coffee in the historic Fairhaven neighborhood of Bellingham, reading my book and trying to let my mind wander. As always, part of the distraction of public society is the awareness of those around me. Being a single romantic, I’m particularly aware of women around me. In a college town like this, my assumption is that most women are girls and likely too young for me, but since my thoughts are relatively chaste, I allow myself to craft imaginary relationships of equal chastity and flirtation. The girl to my right is quietly working on her laptop and writing something—most likely a student, so it’s easier to dismiss any romantic thoughts, but her posture lends itself well to curious speculation—what she might be like, what she might be thinking about while working alone in this crowd of other young people. Does she regard me? What does she focus on? What does she hope for the world and her place in it? What would love look like for her?
Another girl is tall and well built with curly red hair and freckles. She is chatting with a friend to my left in between working on her laptop. She seems comfortable and self-assured and friendly. These are often traits of those who are young and vibrant, but also of those in a familiar environment. Realistically, it’s the same behavior I might exhibit if I were sitting with friends in my home town. She could easily be closer to my age, but ultimately, I’m more interested in observing either of these women as fellow humans with whom I might connect on a human level—with or without intimacy. I don’t want to contaminate the fantasy, but mostly because I find most contaminations to be unnecessarily distracting—politics or other facade passions are not interesting to me. Comfortable honest exchanges with close friends reveal what they actually care about and allow for the possibility for them to share something genuine.
A Quick Identity Check
A man of conflict and balance.
Romantic, yet pragmatic
I believe in everything, yet remain skeptical of when everything will be relevant or true.
In the daytime, I have no fear of death or the natural world around me, though I may keep a cautious eye on my environment; yet, at night, a supernatural world contains an equal reality and holds sway over my judgement.
Fantasy version:
I travel from town to town—Seattle to Bellingham to Butte to Casper to Kalispell—watching the people and imagining the heart of their lives. I see women and hold them in fantastic romantic regard, with the unexplored possibility of what might be without considering the mundane reality of a life of routine, practical concerns, or pain.
These are villages from a bygone age where the folks still had thoughts and dreams and passions in another context, but with the same soul.
What if my steed was more than the Subaru Outback, a motorcycle, or horseback?
What if shelter wasn’t an apartment, hostel, or tent?
What if my whim and will determined reality? How then would I solve issues of survival and human interaction?
*I create a pocket existence that obscures me from observation (a la Tardis)…perhaps the level of security radiates to other lifeforms (aliens? supernatural beings? divine?) in other worlds and dimensions…or those magical passersby sensitive to such things. I’ve lived with these gifts for some time, but they still seem new to me. Each time I achieve a new manifestation—creating a pocket sanctuary or instantly transporting to another location—I run the risk of attracting attention from something of greater ability. So far, these encounters have been minimally distracting and rarely hostile, but that doesn’t mean the next encounter will be so.
Living Vicariously Through Myself
Blog chronicling the decision to deviate from the standard model
Why?
That’s the first and most obvious question I’m asked when I reveal my decision to leave my job of twelve years in a growing metropolis of opportunities and financial stability.
My job is a very good one. It is a small office that has managed to retain most of the startup sensibilities—autonomy, varied responsibilities, flexible schedule--while remaining successful/profitable.
I live in an apartment in Seattle. The city has grown significantly in the 13 years I’ve lived here, but the pace of growth has resulted in a further acceleration in the pace of life. My neighborhood is walkable, with grocery stores, restaurants, and cafes nearby. My office is a 30-40 minute commute (20 minutes if I leave very early in the morning). Traffic can fluctuate pretty severely, which has the psychological impact of mentally factoring a substantial time in traffic when making social plans. Combine the lack of readily available parking options and the possibility of inclement weather and suddenly, spontaneous activities become less appealing. Even getting together with friends in the same city becomes restricted to a weekend activity.
There are plenty of folks who adapt to these conditions by utilizing ride-sharing services for travel to avoid parking or spending more time at home with their families. The former is little more than a stopgap for those who seek an active social life and one that does not address traffic concerns or accommodate the freedom of altering plans. The latter option is appealing to me, as someone who values quality time with conversation and small social circles; however, for those of us who are single, a home represents solitude and isolation for a majority of the time. Solitude and isolation are also valuable and appreciated, but mainly when they are choices, rather than a status quo from which to deviate.
Even the simple act of driving without a destination is a luxury that has become difficult to enjoy in a congested urban cityscape. Traffic has many negative impacts that range from the obvious logistical challenges to the more understated psychological erosion of patience and goodwill—any seemingly thoughtless action is amplified as a personal affront and injustice. I don’t like finding myself cursing at other drivers or being impatient. I recognize that this is a challenge I should attempt to overcome in myself, but if there is a better environment for me to exercise patience, I’d like to explore that.
I’m a man who values taking his time to appreciate life. I value roots and home and family and friends. I’d like to have my own house and turn it into a home. The longer I’ve been in this city, the more distant the prospect of home ownership seems. The housing market boom continues and my boss has encouraged me to invest in a home. My concerns are three-fold: firstly, I would view a home as a terminal investment, in that I would want to buy something where I could plant roots and take decades to develop. Such an investment would necessitate my remaining in an area for that time and preclude my moving elsewhere.
Secondly, the cost of buying a home in this area would be such that I would need to remain gainfully employed and advancing within my career in order to afford buying and maintaining a home. Losing my job or deciding to pursue another career would be a much riskier proposition with a mortgage responsibility.
Lastly, buying in an area where I could afford the cost of the home and find the pace of life I’d prefer would further increase my commute time and reduce my time spent enjoying the home, as well as time for social endeavors (i.e. meeting a significant other and developing interpersonal relationships).
Community is something that I find valuable and developing community is integral to society. It seems that a growing number of social ills are the result of isolation and marginalization—violence, homelessness, and the general attitude of division and faction resentment that pervades the country and world at large. We tend to choose the path of least resistance, which leads to our gravitating toward like-minded groups who can further reinforce a like-minded perspective, rather than consider alternative viewpoints in an honest way. We don’t have to live with people with whom we disagree, so we consider those people as outsiders who are “wrong” in their worldview. If we are forced to live together with those with a different point of view, we tend to find ways to get along together and respect our differences. Eventually, that respect allows us to more honestly consider different points of view and build a diverse ecosystem that is more resilient and more likely to endure adversity—whether it be economic challenges or other threats to the well-being of the community. With that well-being reinforced, it provides greater stability for those residing within the community and enables them to spend more of their focus on introspection, advancement, growth, and enlightenment. If I don’t have to worry about my neighbors as much, that gives me more time and freedom to do what I want with my life.
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