Intriguing view of a Montana countryside with thunderstorms in the background. It takes me back to the days of settlers, cowboys, and fields of Buffalo…
This is one of my favorite photos caught at a serendipitous moment. It’s as if the water is reaching out to touch the sun and becomes infused with its warmth. Taken in Sarasota, Florida.
Life as a wandering nomad the past few years has changed me.
It has woken my soul and I’ve found it is restless.
Out there I was always hiking, jogging in the woods, kayaking, etc. I loved exploring new grounds and finding new adventures. It kept me alive in spirit.
Before, I used to sit for long periods of time — mostly working on the computer, watching television, or staring at my smartphone.
Not anymore. After a couple decades of it, there’s no joy to it.
I don’t like inertia. It’s a nemesis because when I slip into its grasp, I feel lethargic and lazy.
I want to be outside all the time, to be in the embrace of beloved nature.
Being under a roof boxes me in. I want to see the sun, the clouds, birds, night sky, stars, and the moon.
I feel uneasy when I enter a building of any sort. I feel out of place, lost.
I don’t belong anymore.
I struggle these days while recovering from Mr. Lyme because my heart is outside and I don’t have the strength yet to endure the rigorous wandering & camping life.
But soon I will be free and tears will flow in joyous release.
I will be roofless once again.
For now I endure.
And dream of stars overhead in the warm embrace of nature’s fire.
View off the coast of Cape Breton in Nova Scotia. Out of all the destinations I’ve camped on the American continent, Nova Scotia is one of my favorites. It reminds me of a northern version of Costa Rica with raw beauty.
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Rain has a way of driving people away and inside, emptying the earth of inhabitants.
Those are the times I feel freer - even in the city.
It’s when a new, secret world comes to life, calling out to my soul to come and play.
I decide to go for swim — a favorite thing to do when the sky is weeping — in the local community pool. Thankfully there is no threat of electricity falling.
At first glance the vast pool looks lonely, abandoned of laughing children and ardent lap swimmers. I slide into the water at eye-level amidst raindrops dancing on the surface.
I’m taken back to the days of my beloved cabin on the Suwannee where I would walk naked in the rain and sink into river’s warm embrace. I’d sit a long time, eyes level with tannin surface, watching rain drops reunite with their beloved.
Ashes to ashes, water to water.
I miss it.
I’m brought back to the pool, tiny spheres of blue water bouncing in multitude with each drop and I smile.
River or no, I’m still in the warm ambience of an empty pool given life by nature pelting it with her own, trees nearby swaying in the wind, and an occasional dragonfly braving the rain.
It’s when everything feels most alive, more than sunny days full of swimmers. It’s where quiet magic takes over in the whims of nature and solitude and becomes a force of its own.
My soul comes out to play, unfurling the inner child within and dances freely with the rain.
Solitude and rain.
Bliss.
(Photo of me in my childhood days contemplating in the rain taken by my uncle Terry)
A tranquil sunset view of Sarasota Bay in Florida just off the New College campus. Perfect meditation spot.
Another view off the Oregon coast in the town of Manzanita. It’s classic Oregon — thick morning fog, overcast skies, blanketed mountains, and rich colors.
I remember when I first saw him in high school. His sister, a good friend of mine, pointed across a campus yard and said, “That’s my brother.”
He looked a bit like Harry Potter with his backpack and glasses and the way he trudged to class.
I met him later at their home and it was an immediate kinship where an invisible bond within the both of us blossomed to life. It was one of those instant friendships that deepened quickly over a short amount of time.
My deafness was actually familiar to him because his sister was deaf.
We were a band of brothers, the two of us. It was a versatile combination - we were troublemakers, pushing the limits to see what we could get away with. We were deep thinkers, talking long into the night on humanity, life, and of course girls and sexuality.
We were also practical jokers and there were many nights where we’d laugh our asses off at ourselves or whatever crazy situation we got ourselves into.
As we got older we stayed close. He became my best man at my wedding and later a godfather to my daughter upon her birth.
It was one of those forever high school friendships. We were soulmates.
Back then I was still hot headed at times and not always thoughtful with my words. I would make judgemental comments about others, even him and his family.
It was borne out of a lifetime of insecurity growing up deaf in a hearing world. For the longest time I didn’t always feel accepted or up to the standards of hearing folk so I’d take it out on those close to me and bring them to down to bring myself up.
That’s how I lost him.
I crossed a valley with my words and when he tried to talk to me about it I doubled down, basically saying he was making a mountain of a molehill.
I thought he was being foolish when it was I that was the fool, cratering the foundation of our friendship.
I didn’t realize the damage wrought and kept thinking he would cool off and come back around.
He never did.
I tried to circle back around a few years later and apologise but it wasn’t honest because I still didn’t realize exactly what I was apologizing for and I think he knew that.
Twenty years later I don’t know the full extent of my damaging words because my memory fails, but with the grace of growing up over those long years, I understand now he was setting healthy boundaries.
He did what he had to do and it was the right thing after I kept breaking those boundaries.
For many years after he broke our friendship off, I kept running into people who taught me the value of healthy boundaries the hard way by walking all over me.
That’s how life works in its own graceful way of giving me the hindsight to see what I did to our friendship.
It was one of the hardest lessons I’ve ever hard to learn — along with learning the value and necessity of healthy boundaries in one’s life.
In a sense, his parting of the ways was a lifelong gift of learning.
I love and miss you, brother.
Forest and mountains in northern Oregon near the coast
An old flame once told me I was too solitary when I spoke of the need for alone time in the woods and how much I relished being by myself.
She understood to an extent but didn’t quite get the depth of it. She called me her lone wolf.
Maybe it has to do with being born deaf into a world of total silence. When I was fitted for hearing aids a couple years later, mom would write in her journals how I still dwelled in my own worlds, lost in oceans of imagination.
Whatever the cause, it’s deeply ingrained within.
I wasn’t a social outcast and I had my good share of friends. Most honored my penchant for solitary time even if they didn’t always get it.
Wanting to be alone didn’t mean I didn’t value their companionship. It’s like love… Just because I love something or someone else doesn’t mean I love you any less.
Going nomadic a couple years ago was the ultimate plunge into aloneness. I would go weeks without communication, virtually disappearing into the ether.
It was where I found my true joy, being all alone in the wilderness. And knowing I was never alone all along.
It’s where my self melted away into the trees, rivers, mountains, and clouds. There was nothing left of me — I lost my true nature and became nature. An embrace of the beloved. It was ecstatic.
It was meant to be. Embracing aloneness into a merging of soul with nature and immortal beloved.
We all have paths to follow that bring us ever closer to our own divinity, our souls. To the great loves of our lives.
Mine is to walk the trails of solitude and get lost in all that is.
Love, Your lone wolf
View from my campsite when I was on Lake Canuilla with sun setting over the Santa Rosa mountains in La Quinta, California. It’s not far from the famed Salton Sea.
Ray
An alien from a different plane wandering the universe in a tiny camper
Along the Ray
Somewhere on a river...
North American continent usually
