Coming Back

I’m coming back to this place after more than a year away. Much has happened in the interim, so we have a lot of catching up to do.

The short version is that in September of last year, I followed a pull to the East Coast and left truck life behind. The big breaking point for this otherwise magical time in my life was a robbery that took most of my few remaining possessions.

Following that unfortunate event, I wrote the missive below. It sat in my drafts folder, too bleak and dark to public. As I pick up the pen again, it feels right somehow to share this.

Desire Path
June 2021

A warning, dear Reader, that no hope is to be found here.

Last weekend, some poor, desperate soul busted in the driver-side window of my truck and lifted about half of the few worldly possessions I carried about with me. Clothes mostly. 

The clothes make the man, that’s what they say. What kind of man is made of clothes looted from another? A Paper Man, thin and torn.

And like this, my experiment in alternative living comes to an end.

To be truthful, a ransacked truck is not a massive setback. I have resources to replace all those thread-bare jeans, thrice-darned socks, and soil-stained linens. I’ll comfort myself in the knowledge that this petty thief probably was disappointed with the haul. I’ll imagine Fagan knocking the Paper Man on his head as they sort through the flotsam and jetsam.

Then, I’ll plot my way to ending this experiment.

I really believed there could be a different way. I thought I could stray from the desire path and bushwhack my way to greater contentment. I was wrong.

This experiment was rooted in the idea that our species is worth saving. It rested squarely on an untested hypothesis, that by living a life of aggressive freedom and modeling resistance, I might demonstrate that happiness isn’t a single-family home with a two-car garage. I would be part of the solution.

There is no solution. We are only as strong as our weakest link. After more than a year of desperation, we are at a breaking point. Our institutions failed us. Our wealth disparity grew and grew and grew. The weather showed us who is really in control.

It’s time to Pay the Piper, then hie thee to refuge and hoard thine idle gold. 

I asked a friend to help me pick out a change of clothes, but nothing fit and it was all varyingly too expensive or too cheap. A world flooded with clothing, and the two of us manage to be choosy about it. 

That night, I made a bed under the stars once again. I am become Sisyphus, climbing the mountain of sleep. I read the sky for awhile, written in ancient script. Tell me, Astraios, how to hold this this lost day, these pilfered possessions. I let the insignificance of it all sink in. 

Tomorrow, I’ll seek out the well-worn path. I’ll enjoy these unparalleled comforts we’ve bought in a currency of others’ blood and tears. I’ll build my fortress of stone and mortar. I’ll take warm showers and pray that the skies and oceans swallow us up quickly so that this beautiful place is returned to more deserving animals.