Slowing Down

It’s takes some time to separate from routine. The immediate rush of energy and movement as I left the Bay has officially subsided. I’m finally putting on my traveling shoes. That means taking a deep breath and moving when I want. A few days here, an adventure there, madness and random my common companions. The next few weeks will center in health and recovery. Finding a body that’s happy to work hard again will be tough.

Alas, steady progress begins. The morning started with an axe in hand. An hour of wood splitting shifts to a ladder twirling around a cherry tree for the wielding of a chainsaw at odd angles. I find time to play in my body and attempt some handstands before deciding to ride the bike around town. There’s not much left to do but stop by the river for a swim and prepare for an evening walk through the farm with many lengths of hose.

Life is beautiful. Just get outside. Yesterday, I met a man named Scotty. He believed the same thing. There is, as always, a possibility that our paths will cross again, though that’s entirely up to many things out of control.

Scotty is a man who lives. Free diving in Mexico, hitchhiking from Baja to Nevada at 67 to get his truck from the shop he left it at 8 months ago, building tiny homes, yurts, and living situations with people who need them, just in order to leave them with both skills and a place to live.

He is fearless. He speaks of drug addicts with knives at his throat and the calmness it takes to talk them down, offer them food, and have it end with tears, hugs, and their side of the story. This sort of fearlessness lies in my heart and behind my eyes though try stories are never so harrowing.

The secret is kindness, faith, and patience. We are all good, though many of us are lost. The streets are getting worse. Not just in San Francisco, but everywhere. It’s a growing trend around the nation that began its journey a long time ago. Desperation, disparity, loneliness, all aspects that drive the heart deeper into the folds of fear. Is there a way out? Not if you don’t believe it.

Scotty says it all starts with self love. No amount of support can cure a loveless soul. However, with the right support, space, and time, self love can start to seem like a possibility again. I have a philosophy about teaching. A teacher’s job is rarely to teach; their role is inspire students to learn.

I met Scotty when he agreed to pick me up as a hitchhiker. We opened ourselves to all sorts of possible damage but we trusted each other and took a chance. In the end, we shared stories. His most profound being that of his brother.

As children, they lost their mother. With an alcoholic father who had no interest or ability to care for others, they were left to fend for themselves. Scotty was just old enough to be fine. His younger brother was devastated but never found space to work through it. Thrown in the foster system and introduced to drugs, he filled the void that he believed did not exist.

He juggled a successful professional life with a nasty habit of free-basing meth. Year after year, mistake after mistake, losing friend and family to this desire to escape, it took him 32 years before he finally sobered up. He’d lost just about everything, though shockingly, still had quite a bit in the bank account. Regardless, it was only once he found Scotty again, and was given one, final chance to get back on his feet—but on his own time and in his own way and space, that things finally changed.

As Scotty shared the story, he spoke of how challenging it was to leave his brother in Mexico a few weeks ago. The reason was simple. It wasn’t because he was worried or nervous of his brother’s possible actions. He was just glad to have him back and was sad to walk away until next winter. Still, there was joy in his eyes.

I’ll be sad to leave Cottage Grove. In the same way I feel sad to leave everywhere. Joy is ever present. Joy pours upon me in sunlight and birdsong and hard earned sweat. Moonlight hides in the waning period but a new moon comes soon. Catch some spring time blossom and a river dance. Honored and blessed, what more can be asked for? I’ve made some plans and we’ll let them unfold beneath the new moon, when I set forth from this little town and find the next adventure. I don’t expect what’s next to happen fast, but that’s the point. I’m entering a new phase: a return to peace and presence—and it’s oh so lovely.