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Day 44...
By they_speak
7/30/2012 2:21:22 PM
I have't been to a meeting in 2 weeks. Thinking of bagging the 90 n 90 since I've only went to 26 meetings which puts me about 18 meetings behind.

I quit my job (they were going to fire me) about a week ago. I've was partying a lot. Drowning my sorrows. My body was feeling the brunt of those decisions. Was feeling a little depressed. But!, I went and hung out in the mountains for a few days and already feeling a little (lot) better!

Because Edward Abby puts it so much better than me; From Desert Solitaire (he's descending on a river trip down Glen canyon before "the beavers" damned it up):

"A human shout reaches our ears from the west shore. A man is waving at us from the landing of old Hite's ferry. A warning? A farewell! He shouts once more but his words are unintelligible. Cheerfully waving back, we drift past him and beyond his ken without the faintest intimation of regret. We shall not see another of the tool-making breed for a long time and we could not care less.

Misanthropy? Shakespeare could say

Man delights not me,
No, nor woman neither....

And Raleigh, too,

I wish I loved the human race,
I wish I loved its silly face.

And Jeffers:

Be in nothing so moderate
as in love of man.

But no, this is not at all what we feel at this moment, not at all what I mean. in these hours and days of dual solitude on the river we hope to discover something quite different, to renew our affection for ourselves and the human kind in general by a temporary, legal separation from the mass. And in what other way is it possible for those not saints? And who wants to be a saint? Are saints human?

Cutting the bloody cord, that's what we feel, the delirious exhilaration of independence, a rebirth backward in time and into primeval liberty, into freedom in the most simple, literal, primitive meaning of the word, the only meaning that really counts. The freedom, for example, to commit murder and get away with it scot-free, with no other burden than the jaunty halo of conscience. I look at my old comrade Newcomb in a new light and feel a wave of love for him; I am not going to kill him and he--I trust--is not going to kill me.

(My God I'm thinking, what incredible shit we put up with most of our lives--the domestic routine (same old wife every night), the stupid and useless and degrading jobs, the insufferable arrogance of elected officials, the crafty cheating and the slimy advertising of the businessmen, the tedious wars in which we kill our buddies instead of our real enemies back home in the capital, the foul, diseased and hideous cities and towns we live in, the constant petty tyranny of automatic washers and automobiles and TV machines and telephones--! ah Christ!, I'm thinking, at the same time that I'm waving goodbye to that hollering idiot on the shore, what intolerable garbage and what utterly useless crap we bury ourselves in day by day, while patiently enduring at the same time the creeping strangulation of the clean white collar and the rich but modest four-in-hand garrote)

Such are my--you wouldn't call them thoughts, would you? --such are my feelings, a mixture of revulsion and delight, as we float away on the river, leaving behind for a while all that we most heartily and joyfully detest. That's what the first taste of the wild does to a man, after having been too long penned up in the city. No wonder the Authorities are so anxious to smother the wilderness under asphalt and reservoirs. They know what they're doing; their lives depend on it, and all their rotten institutions. Play safe. Ski only in clockwise direction. Let's all have fun together.

We drift on; ..."

...I think I'll return to the wild...Gods abode...tonight.

Comments:

Oh, man, you are brave...    
"Bears. Mountain lions. That is scary. But it sounds helpful. I hope you have fun skiing clockwise or something. And I hope you feel better soon."
posted at 15:15:29 on July 30, 2012 by G1rlie
You sure you are not drifting off, lost in a canyon there Speak Ole Chap    
"Way to wax poetical.

Mate, Bear Grylls is looking for a new expedition, send him SOS smoke signals chop chop.

Better yet munch on a few rhino beetle lavae; drink the urine of a rabbit or roast the poop of a grizzly. That will really give you a taste of the wild. That should cure the addict of the ills.

Just kidding buddy - good to see you are alive and well."
posted at 22:17:37 on July 30, 2012 by Anonymous
No    
"Edward Abby is lost in the canyon. I was lost in the mountains.

Lol Girlie, I will not be skiing clock wise. Quite the opposite. But I get what you meant and I will definitely have fun :)"
posted at 00:15:41 on July 31, 2012 by they_speak
You have a beautiful brain, they speak!    
"I love reading your words.
I was worried that you might get too bored, too soon with the recovery. I hope your trip brought things into focus, or sufficiently out-of-focus for you to keep going."
posted at 07:33:30 on July 31, 2012 by Anonymous
Thank you    
"I like that, "sufficiently out-of-focus for you to keep going"! Sometimes its hard to see my way through the maze of the natural man when i'm consumed by it. In the thick of it. Stepping back, feasting on rhino beetles larvae, always gives me a new vantage point through which to see my way and as I wrote "renews [my] affection for [myself] and the human kind in general". Maintenance afterwords is the key. One that i'm working on.

While i'm on a role of waxing poetical “The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” --John Muir. I suppose Joseph Smith and Enos would have to agree ;)"
posted at 20:03:31 on July 31, 2012 by they_speak


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"If it were possible to make your road very easy, you wouldn’t grow in strength. If you were always forgiven for every mistake without effort on your part, you would never receive the blessings of repentance. If everything were done for you, you wouldn’t learn how to work, or gain self-confidence, or acquire the power to change. "

— Richard G. Scott

General Conference May 1990