Call me strange


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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…

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2 thoughts on “Call me strange

  1. Living here for almost 18 years now I often think that I am looking down at the rest of the country, it is akin to when once a little guy and was on the empire state building in NY looking down at the thousands of ants/people rushing to get on with their lives. The perspective from here (Alaska) focuses clarity on the absurdness of how the rest of the nation is heading. To leave Alaska would be to throw off a warm winter blanket…

    • I’ve concluded similarly, exactly, and maintain the clarity of vision the mountaintop affords. Distance and perspective, things found with brush and canvas, and in high places ~

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