Go ahead. I’m overwhelmed with yearning to walk away from all of this wonderful life stuff, head back to silent, lonely places. The more I read, learn, come to believe about the state of our country, the dwindling freedoms to do as you please, the pablum reassurance that “it’s all good,” the more I want to run, faster, away.
There are some who ridicule, chide, scoff, however gently, at the idea of escapism. No wonder. I’d say such a thing is not likely to succeed. I’m not escaping. I’m returning. The sense of urgency, the yearning, the growing need to go back, soon, grows daily. It swells in the morning silence, burns throughout the day, smolders into the wee hours. Go, now, before you start believing you won’t.
I can’t imagine not returning. Even harder is believing I’d choose to remain. This, this life of ease, comfort, leisure. There’s no need here, no purpose, no demand. Heat is a product of money. Food is a product of money. Shelter is a product of money. Very little of my labor produces my heat, my dinner, my shelter. I pay for those things these days, and they mean less.
Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I’m running out of excuses. Maybe I’m strange.
I don’t think so. I think the time is coming. Soon. Soon…