of another.

“Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears.”

John Lennon

of sorts. Fueled by a proper amount of Bulleit. Too little wouldn’t have gotten me to this destination. Too much would have just muddied up the journey. I’m at the perfect depth, of that wonderful little rabbit hole I find myself in so often.

I’m not going to die a rich man, but I’ll not die a poor man either. I’ve become a member of a tribe that’s grown far too large. I should have been a member of one much smaller. One where each member had something to give to others. No payment other than what another member’s talent may have had to give in return. No money exchanged, just swapping talents. I’ll gather the food (for the vegans lol), the wood and build the fire for another to cook. You get the idea I hope.

Too small a group/tribe and there isn’t enough variety in talent to maintain the small but self sufficient group. Too many members, leads to repetition of talents which leads to competition, which in turn leads to greed, which leads to power and more greed! The very same domino effect that will be the end of everything all of us now know today.

I’m so effing sick of all of this greed and living a life chasing the almighty dollar. It’s not worth any of it!

Why is it that we are the only carbon based life form that requires a payment for existence? Why can’t we just be ‘beings’. All here for the other beings safety, comfort, existence?

If there was ever this utopia, could I be the distiller? The pondering story teller that went deep into the woods collecting the wood to help create comfortable abodes for others? I’d prefer not to be the hunter, just a gatherer that would be willing gleefully to share with others?

Words cut as sharp as the finest sword! Why? Why can’t I write stuff like this? I’ve thought it so many times before. Some say in a sentence what I’m incapable of saying in a week.

“But there ain’t much difference in the man I wanna be
And the man that I really am”.

Let’s change up that verse just a little.

“But there’s a whole lotta difference in the man I am
And the man I used to be, wanna be”.

Guess it’s time for me to pony up and write my own future vs hearing a version of it in another man’s works.

Oh and the tune that brought on these thoughts? Enjoy, it’s pretty spectacular!

Forgetting “is every bit the mental skill as remembering.”
I’ve yet to have mastered the technique but I’d like to still. And to teach it as well.

Oh the irony of my thoughts, I’m such an idiot! Here I am posting about forgetting so what do I do? I look at my other posts of the same year… and add more to my journal.

risks vs rewards isn’t it. So what does one do when it’s all just risks. Rewards are all gone? The canteen’s empty.

About the only thing that works is my memory of who I used to be not long ago. I was never exactly fine crystal but rather a canteen. May not have been as pretty but I held a fair amount and didn’t leak. Probably looked a little out of place in certain locations but always thought I fit in where I thought I should be. On a fireplace mantle somewhere ready to go out in the woods.

Maybe I leaked, maybe what was in me simply evaporated over time. I may never know, but I know there’s very little left in me right now. Just a nearly empty old container in search of a plug and a refill laying on the side of some country dirt road.

When will the last drop be gone? Most likely the last tear I guess.

This will be written, edited, and added to over many days I hope as it’s that spark I’ve been searching for too damn long.

Does drive inspire? Or does inspiration drive?

My wife is watching a Nat Geo series called “Edge of the Unknown”. It’s a Red Bull program documenting people that put, and push themselves to that ‘edge’. Often an uncomfortable edge and sometimes to the edge of life itself. It’s quite incredible and to be perfectly honest, quite inspirational at this time in my life!

I’ve often said that the closer I am to death, the more I appreciate life. I still feel that way, sadly, for some in the series, reaching that edge tamed their spirits a bit. I’m far from being at their level of experience, really far but it’s like my racing days. If there were only two of you on the track it didn’t much matter if you were both doing 30 or a buck 30… you were still racing. My edge was never nearly as sharp, but it cut just as deep. (I kinda miss those days of gravity racing in the mountains /) Ahh, another story in itself.

I’ve only watched parts of several of them but what has made me the happiest is that I understand these guys. I’ve been in their shoes and looking back, I’m thrilled to say, I’ve put myself in the same situations. Near death experiences, seeing life slow to frames like an old movie being played quarter speed. It was termed “time dilation” by one of the gents.

Wherever you are, my hero you will always be. I sure miss you Dad, we all do.

’73’ Me

“Without work, all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.”

Albert Camus

Fear. BP meds, a don’t give a damn pill, soon to have a good stiff drink and off to bed where hopefully I won’t know what a mess I am mentally.

Rene’ has a post cancer checkup tomorrow along with her pulmonary doc taking a peek at something else. I’ve no reason to worry but that’s never stopped me before.

She’s a wonderful woman and friend who means everything to me. She needs to have a long and healthy life. I need to be there for her in a way I’m finding very difficult to accomplish.

This is all just horrible.