"What am I doing to myself" I ask, sitting on a sunburnt cactus mountain in the California desert.
"I'm dirty, I'm hurting and I am terribly happy."
Who would imagine such a combination. The suffering is the real juicy part of the prickly pear.
454 miles of desert walking. I learned that busting open a cactus with a rock requires a lot of grunting and overhead pile-driving. Once the cactus flesh is exposed, and cut into strips, it makes good face wipes and toilet paper.
What else. No body is out here alone. And if they are, they won't make it.
Americanizing....feeling the pain of change. I don't know if I really want to be another overstressed commuter buzzing in circles on highways. Actually, I know I don't want to be this. That's progress.
I was laying in a hot tub near Charles Manson and the Family's old hangout in Deep Creek and I had the thought, "I want to be a naked freaky hippy". But that's not all I want to be. Just a start.
Taking my time, thinking a lot, thinking of everything I've got. Knowing I'll still be here tomorrow, but my dreams may not. Thinking that with the energy in these mountains, both positive and negative, I may be able to run ahead of the Real world for another few years at least. Maybe get far enough ahead of it to finally speak with a perspective clear enough to convince others to quit their jobs and just get up, stand up and bugger off into the hills.
I'm going
-t
