Archives for December 2004

Towards Them Hills, I Go

In a heart beat, I’d rip down the walls of square existence, and all of civilization, in exchange for simple beauty. My own shadow speaks. My enemies are those that destroy beauty.

I leave town with pop in my jug and the cool wind coming through the window. Towards the rolling hills I go, covered with dense Juniper, and Pinion Pine, where cloud shadows twist and roll. My pop jug is full of Mountain Dew; and I’m feeling the cold air hitting my face. I?m happy and humble. The desert clouds hum above my car, as it travels down the shady highway, further from town. The town glistens behind, where busy mice hurry in their trivial lives.

Turning off the highway, onto a dirt road. The car ploughs down the road, towards the mountains. Gravel slams the floor beneath. The tires plow through soft dirt, making thick clouds of dust. Towards those lonesome hills I go.

The sky is so blue, and so calm. The desert is so clean and wide open. Nobody can find me out here in the sticks, of long ago. The deeper I venture, the freer I become. The Earth Mother is so beautiful. She is so comforting. Out of the hills, cloud shadows carve the landscape. The landscape has no end. It cannot be sold. Beautiful is the wild. The desert is a haven of peace and harmony.

I hear my own shadow singing.

Black Shadow

I thought I
heard the unseen,
while sleeping?

Nothing opened the door,
but it remained closed.
Yet, Nothing walked in
and I heard him
jingling his keys!
I also heard him
punching the code
into the key pad!
Again, no one came
through the door.
The door remained closed.

I see an ungodly shape on the wall.
The inanimate black shadow
watches me without eyes.

Introspection: Am I a Hermit?

I was talking with my grandpa today, about hermits, those bearded men that still seem to haunt the mountains living in makeshift huts or sheep camps. He said I ought to take my camera and go photograph the few that I’ve come by and try to capture them in their routine. Of course I’m wandering if this would be considerate or respectful towards them?

I assume that these folks live in the hills because maybe they don’t want anything to do with civilization. These individuals truly live in the quiet places, yet, I don’t quite understand where they may be coming from? How do they survive emotionally with only themselves to entertain? I’ve been wanting to hunt of few of them down and get to know them. If they want the company?

To me, a hermit is a human that discovers happiness in isolation. Half of the time, I feel like a recluse. I tend to despise human company, out of frustration. Mostly, I crave the company of others. I would like to learn how to be at peace with myself as my thoughts are very stormy. I crave the sugars of society but I wouldn’t mind living on the fringe.

I don’t expect everybody to live in cabins, but I feel like a hermit. I’m waiting for a life changing event, for my dreams to grow. Yet, I’m not an earth-loving, tree-hugging, dope smoking stereotype. I’m an average, clean cut college student, and this is my journal. I won’t let the bigger world define my existence. I have my own innate power, to resist the common.