Antipodes; or "Leaving the Kalahari on Christmas Eve to save a dying alien."

It's been a while since we've talked. I've been okay, how are you? Thanks for asking. I hope you're okay too...

This used to all come so easily to me. I could sit down with my morning coffee and ramble on between phone calls for hours. The topics never mattered. Politics, life, writing, fate. Everything was available and equally enticing. Lately it all seems trivial and overwhelming, condescending or conflicted. I fear the encompassing weight of life has finally killed my youthful optimism and fed it's remains to the ravenous dogs of reality. Maybe coming back here is my way of attempting to recover that mangled corpse from the canines jowls. Is it worth the risk? Worth exposing myself to the full brunt of vicious possibilities that surround us everyday? For what? A meager chance to revive something natural selection has already deemed unfit for survival? Even if I'm successful, what do you do with a half eaten alien too beautiful to exist in such times?...

As I glance over the posts I've left here before I find that many of the images are gone. The words still remain and with them I believe I can remember what the photograph would have been. There's no way to know for sure though....

I poured a cup of black coffee from the french press on the granite counter top, studied the flowing liquid with determination and reverence as the white mug slowly filled to just below the brim. Grasping the ceramic with both hands, the warmth transferred to my palms as I raise the mug to my lips. It is far too hot to be consumed yet, so I hold the mug just on the edge of my lower lip and inhale slowly the smell and the heat.
"Why are you waiting?"
"It's far too hot to drink yet."
"But you hold it so close to yourself? Wouldn't you be better leaving it on the counter till it's cooled?"
"Then I would never know when it's ready."...

Love is a funny thing. I've thought I was in love before. I tried so hard to love some people, to be exactly what they wanted and needed from me. I'd have crossed the Kalahari to prove my devotion, not to them, but to myself. I wasn't in love with them, I was in love with the idea of being in love. It has taken me a long time to figure that out and I'm still not fully sure I understand it or even if it's relevant to my current position. Perhaps when the magicians arrive with the rising sun I'll ask them...

Christmas used to be my favorite time of year; the trees, the lights, the overpowering display of mans dominance over the arriving darkness of winter. There is a cold dry feeling in the air that brings a childhood nostalgia for everything that shimmers and comes packaged in vibrant colors. It's been three years now since I've felt that way. It now stands as a memorial to some of the hardest decisions and most difficult times that have come to pass. But for all the turbulence brought by recent years ending, I'm still here...

"This isn't the first time I've seen you here"
"I've come for many years."
"I can see you're different this time."
"Is it so easily identified?"
"With eyes like mine it's easy to see when you carry the weight of your existence as a burden. You no longer carry that weight the same."
"Was it so clear to everyone else?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. You're free."

The alien is worth saving...

Touring the Elwha; tearing down the dams and the differences between us

In the year nineteen hundred and ten the Elwha was damned by man. For 102 years it bore its perdition, wondering what it had done to fall victim to such punishment. It had done nothing but existed, and at that point for humanity, that was enough.

There was a stillness about that can only exist in the dark hours of a Sunday morning. The sun was still hidden and the church bells unsung as I put on my shorts and hoodie. The day would be long, but I would soon learn my failed understanding when it comes to the concepts of time.

He arrived at 6 am, backpack and hiking boots in hand. A groggy exchange of words failed and we rode in silence south. We had one more detour, to pick up his mother, before hitting the long road out. As I slept in the backseat I could hear the echoes from far away.

"They have told me that you are coming."

"I'm sorry I didn't wait for you to ask."

"I've been waiting for years."

"I couldn't hear you."

"I wasn't ready to call for you.”

“I wasn't ready to come.”

“We're not so different, you and I."

We met with a larger group in front of the Olympic National Park Visitor’s Center. Most of their faces had seen more life than myself, but still held a child like innocence, as if they've chosen to ignore the weight of Atlas and instead embrace the ignorance of youth. Such a feat is something I can admire, but could never do.

We waited, and waited longer, for the final participants. Their faces all reflected an idealism appropriate for their age, and their voices proclaimed they've yet to understand how truly insignificant each of us are in the eyes of the forest. None of that mattered, we loaded in cars and departed.

"Why do hold judgment against them?"

"I used to be like them myself"

"You're still more like them than you accept."

"I don't like that part of myself "

"But there are other, more important, parts you hate more. Let’s talk about those."

We were still barred from seeing the removal on the upper river, only two weeks completed. The first stop was at an old ranger station just north of the fresh wound. We walked a hundred yards or so down to the shore where a ranger began to talk about the scale of what was trying to be accomplished. While interesting, the waters spoke will such vigor I couldn't ignore.

"Many years have passed since I've been seen this way."

"I'm not sure I've ever been seen this way before."

"You have not changed to us. You are who you've always been."

“It doesn’t feel that way to me.”

“Dams can change the way you look, but cannot change what you are.”

A pair of salmon, each over two feet in length, appeared by the shore and began a mating ritual. They couldn't understand our presence and therefore ignored it. They simply did what they knew.

"Your dams are crumbling too."

"I had to build them."

"They told us it was out of necessity too."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for what comes next."

"There is much more to show you."

We tracked down the river to our next stop, the once flooded lands of Lake Aldwell. While life could be seen struggling all around, there was still a barren hopelessness than hung in the air and whispered on the wind.

"This is what will happen first."

"Its so desolate."

"The land is still healing. My scars are far easier to see than yours."

"How can I restore what I cannot see?"

"When you drain the waters, its far easier to see the damage."

We walked a mile through the silt. When we reached a goose neck in the river we couldn't pass we sat for lunch. I finished earlier and wander off along the shore. There was a larger group of salmon this time, all struggling up the current. As they continued to swim, I thought about those that were here before the lake was drained and what had happened to all of them.

"They have been waiting to return. There are others that wait for you."
"What about what was here before? A whole lake filled with life. Did it all die?"

"It was not the life meant for me. It was all a lie."

"I guess we really aren't so different."

"You have much more to see."

We hiked back along the opposite side of the moonscape and proceeded to our next destination. It was just around the curves we were unable to hike beyond, high above on the hillside. Looking down you could see the exposed bedrock where the power plant once stood, and river flowing freely beside it, where 100 feet of concrete stood. Nothing grew where the power plant stood, two years had passed and only a sterile slope remained.

“Some places are harder to rejuvenate than others.”

“Will this land ever come back?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Only have faith that time is the ultimate remedy for the tragedies that befall us.”

“What if it never comes back?”

“That is a fate I have had to accepted. But I still hold out hope.”  

The final stop was along the shore, at the mouth of the Elwha. We walked out along the dike, fully expecting the typical rocky shore of coastal Washington. What came into view couldn't have been more unexpected. As we crested a small embankment a sandy beach stretched out in front of us for hundreds of yards. All of the silt and debris, pent up behind the dams, had returned to the ocean and with it came the land I was standing upon. Seabirds covered a spit in the distance and you could almost hear the faint song of the whales in the straight.

“This is the last thing I have to show you.”

“It’s amazing.”

“It’s how things should be. For both of us. You must rebuild the land that's been lost. You must tear down the dams that remain.”

“I’m trying, but it isn’t easy for me.”

“It isn’t easy for any of us, but I will be here for you. Remember, we’re not so different.”

I sat on the sand bar and stared off towards Baker. He looked different from what I’d grown to know it as. The southern contour is far more uniform, reminiscent of St Helens, before her awakening. From here the peak was jagged and off center. I guess we all look different depending on your vantage point.

The rest of the group was ready to make the drive back. I paused for a moment longer, unable to look away from the mountain.

“I will come and speak to you in person.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“You won’t be waiting long.”

Lost in the Alpine Wilderness; where whales can't swim and the roots run deep

The sun was already on my face as the alarm went off. 7:30 am. I can sleep a little bit longer. It rang again. 7:45 am. I could sleep a little longer, but Olallie told me to wake up and I've learned long ago to respect the waters when they speak to you. After a short walk along the hillside with a friend who couldn't comprehend the concept of judgement, much less pass it upon me, I was ready to depart.

The ride was the kind of uneventful situation that once time has taken it's vengeance I will look back upon and miss. I'm sure that there were more pressing matters for each us, the things life tells us we should talk about, but in the end the small talk was more important. We spoke about nothing of value, but in the absence of content you could find decades of struggle, contentment and pride.

As we reached the end of the road, pockmarked in pot holes and left in disrepair for the only ones who travel it care not for the concrete or asphalt, you could still hear the sound of the highway beneath us. Only a mile under us and it seemed like a lifetime away. The subtle hum of the cars was soon replaced by the whispering of the trees.

In the stranger parts of the world voices come from places you wouldn't expect. This was one of those places. While the pristine aspects of it's power have long been trampled away by those who couldn't begin to fathom the depths of their own footsteps, there is an underlying spirituality and oneness with existence that even an army of logging trucks couldn't remove from this land. It knows who you are before you come and who you'll be when you leave, a secret it holds within the ferns and only reveals through riddle and mystery.

Words are useless in the wilderness; in the alpine the air is far too thin for them to carry any weight. They are but a burden of our urbane life that we carry with us because we've lost the ability to communicate without them. We clung to them for the initial ascent, but as soon as the sound of burning gasoline faded, so did our need for them. We spoke only with our roots.

As I rounded a switchback an image appeared in the distance, a great humpback whale, gliding among the branches as if they were made of kelp and not pine. I stared in fascination, completely enthralled with the sight before me, when a jarring voice broke me from my trance. It was not the kind of voice that you hear, but one whose genesis is found inside you, somewhere you can never see.

"This isn't the place for whales. Don't bring them here where they cannot swim."
"I didn't bring the whale, it appeared to me."
"It appears for your benefit, not for ours. It doesn't belong here."
I knew they were right.

I often traveled ahead, much as children do, knowing that when I reached the bend I would have to stop and wait. I could have slowed my pace, but it seemed easier to take those moments of calm than to slow my progress overall. 

"You still haven't left it behind."
"I don't want to leave it behind."
"You don't have to leave it forever, just while you're here."
"But what if it isn't there when I get back?"
"It might not be, but he will always be there."
There was no longer a distance between us and I continued to move forward.

The trail continued to cross back upon itself. Occasionally we'd pass a spectacular waterfall that we easily ignored. Talapus spoke my name. "It will always be there on the way back," he reassured me. I still wasn't sure it would be, but I had no right to question faith in this place, it only had the right to question me.

"Our roots run deep beneath the earth, so do yours."
"I am only learning to communicate with my roots. I don't know how to see all the words."
"Your roots are less visible to your eyes, but they are evident to ours."

We stopped at a fork in the trail, to eat a sandwich and rest. One direction took us to our destination, the other unknown. As I chewed the ham and cheddar I thought about the other path, fantasized where it led. Could there be a lake even more remote? A stream not before witnessed in it's current incantation? The possibilities continued to haunt me as we continued on our way to Olallie.

Once again I took the lead, but this time I didn't wait. There were no longer divergent paths and enough years had passed that I knew I'd have to return here again. I passed the face of Olallie and didn't as much as hesitate. "It will always be there on the way back." The trail became far more demanding, rising and falling as it weaved along the shoreline. The ground became less stable and mud rose higher from the waters edge, never so much that it covered my boots, but just enough that it was evident where I'd been. I stared back, completely opposite from my original destination and decided it was time to go back.

"It was good of you to visit us."
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."
"You'll be here forever now."
"I'm starting to realize that now."

When I returned he was already waiting for me. "I figured if I waited long enough, you'd show up here." "Sorry, I went ahead." "Don't apologize." We stared at the water for some time in silence before heading back. Often times the return journey is the easier part, the ghosts that spoke to me had other plans. The trail left behind was still fresh in my mind and I said I was going to break off for a bit and see where it went. "You'll find me at Talapus, I'll be waiting."

"You leave him behind, but for what?"
"There is more that you can tell me."
"More than you are ready to hear."
"I can prove myself to you."

A small waterfall was the first obstacle along the new path. It was crossable, but not without it's challenges. Then, for a short while it was flat and non descriptive, the same as hundred other trails I'd been on before. After a quarter of a mile, I only found a crossroads, one side going off into the distance, the other up higher along the ridge. I didn't even ask the advice of my surroundings before trudging up.

I went much further than I'd originally expected to go, up the most arduous trail I'd been on thus far. As I crested over the ridge the whale appeared before me again and the image faded away. I stood looking around, contemplating every inch of my surrounding. The trees were thinner up here, but life could still be found on everything. A small thicket of ferns blew gently in the breeze.

"Excuse me, how much further do I have?"
"Oh, the lake? Yes, yes, the lake, it is near and distant, that is where the whales live."
"I was told the whale don't live in the forests here. They told me it's only here for me"
"Aw they don't but they do, they do, they don't. It is for you."
 "Is it far?"
"Aw yes, far, very far, the distance, is far. But, aw yes, so close."

I thought for a moment about running as fast I can, sprinting over exposed roots and jumping the broken pieces of rock. I thought about getting to the lake and diving head first into the waters, baptizing myself in their purity and forgetting about everything to come and everything that's been. I thought about casting off any semblance of obligation to the world outside this wilderness. Then I thought about my roots and him waiting along the shores of Talapus.

"Well it will have to wait for another day, I have to get back down."
"It might be here again, it might not."
"I have faith it will be here again."
"Faith is your only asset, and your only weakness. Can you trust faith?"
"For now, that's all I can do."

I sped back down the trail, nearly running to catch up. I knew I wouldn't be left behind, but I also didn't want to leave him waiting. I'd already indulged myself for far too long. I became reckless in my pursuit, leaping over the falling water and disregarding cautious sections of trail as irrelevant to me. I could hear them crying all around me.

"Slow down. You're in no rush."
"I need to catch up, I took too much time."
"Slow down. You're in no rush."
But still I ran.

I was still a few hundred feet from Talapus when he came into view. "You got me before the lake. Find anything interesting?" "It was beautiful, but not really what I was hoping for right now." We continued on, oblivious to our surroundings so much so that we passed the turnoff for the lake. "Maybe it isn't really there on the way back." "Don't be silly, we can always just turn around again."

"You know he's right."
"I know. He usually is."
"Remember what he said, you can always turn back. Remember."

We sat on fallen trees. We didn't speak. We didn't need to. After enough time had passed we continued on. The trail head was near, and I could almost hear the interstate again.

"I trust you will find us again."
"Anytime you call me, I'll come."
"Remember to bring your roots, without them we cannot speak."
"I will carry them with me always."

Resuscitation of an old friend

Sometimes the things that we miss the most, we don't realize we even miss until we have them back...

Growing up I had a very good friend. We had a number of classes together and spent time outside of school as well. I wouldn't say that we were inseparable by any means, but we enjoyed each others company and never fell victim to the awkward silences that speak volumes about the underlying differences between people. Time inevitably progressed and there was nothing we couldn't talk about. Some things were still left unsaid, but only because the most important things have a way of making themselves irrelevant. There was one particular encounter that always stuck with me. In the moment it seemed like any other evening in June, just another insignificant piece of a mosaic that made up my life after graduation. We went to the beach. Not the sand beach mind you, the kind of beach where the concrete runs right up to the high tide and when the tide is low a landscape of jagged, barnacle covered rocks is exposed. As a child I'd go to this same beach to over turn rocks in search of small crabs, and the occasional large one, wearing shorts and saltwater sandals. In this particular situation we just sat on a bench and looked out over the Olympic Mountains as the sun fell slowly below their peaks. We talked about people and life and nothing. I didn't know it when we parted ways, I should have, but we wouldn't see each other for a long time. I've thought about the park bench more than I'd care to admit. In the following years we didn't see each other but for a brief moment when my mind couldn't handle itself much less the seemingly simple task of interacting with those close to me. I thought of them from time to time and how things might have been different, if the circumstance were different, if they were different, but mostly if I were different, a thought I entertain all too often. I used to tell people that there was nothing in my life that I'd done that I could regret because I liked the person I was and wouldn't want to change that. The truth is that hated parts of what I'd become but was too afraid to admit that to anyone, and even more afraid to admit that to myself. In my life I've spent so much time wondering what other peoples impressions of me were that I rarely stopped to ponder my impression of myself. It seemed like something that I shouldn't have to think about. Something that should always be right. I've learned that isn't true at all. We ran into each other again, nearly ten years later. We drank cold beers in the summer smog of our old neighborhood, the cars passing by only yards away while bands, that probably should have stayed in garages, performed in the streets. The conversation was trivial to say the least, but not in the way we'd talk about nothing before. It wasn't the kind of nothing where everything exists between the words but the kind of small talk that you'd make with a coworker or teacher, a hollow nothing. But even within that conversational void you could hear echos of the past. We saw each other casually at various events after that, birthday parties or celebratory events. It happened so gradually overtime I can't even say exactly when things changed, but they did. It struck me one day while sitting at my desk, it was as if the last decade never happened, like we'd always been friends. It seems sometimes that life goes out of it's way to make sure some things don't last. Then there are some friendships that, no matter how your life plays out, will always come back to you. You can call it fate, destiny, divine intervention, zah-mah-ki-bo, or whatever your heart desires, I'm just glad that it exists.

Lost and Found

There was a couple of noteworthy interactions that I had this weekend...

I left work on Friday and it was pouring rain. It was wretched. I went out to wait for the 7. Every part of me was soaking wet. I could feel the water pooling in the crevasses of my hoodie, the tops of my boots, and the inner workings of my ears. It had been a long time since I'd been that wet. After 30 minutes of waiting in God's vengeance the 7 finally arrived.

As I boarded the bus I could tell I wasn't the only one left in the rain. The heat was blaring and the humidity was nearly unbearable. Everyone on the bus looked just as miserable as I did. As I was lamenting my position I got a phone call from Nick. We spoke for a little while and made plans to watch a movie. He had asked me if he should bring a movie, which I confirmed by saying, "Once I get home and dry myself out I'm not going anywhere in this."

The woman in front of me overheard this and turned around to give me a high five. I wrapped up my phone call quickly and started up a conversation with the woman. She told me about how she was regretting her decision to go out and get a gift for a friends baby shower. We exchanged hateful words about the weather and then she began to tell me a story.

Some three weeks prior she had noticed that her bus pass was missing. This was a huge problem being as her arthritis had recently placed her on disability and her fixed income didn't allow for unexpected expenses. However without her pass she'd been having to pay the fare for each ride. So in the last three weeks she'd been searching like crazy to find her pass, with no luck. Now as she was planning her trip downtown to buy a present she decided that she would take the 7 instead of the 106. She hadn't taken the 7 in weeks, but something made her decide to on that day.

She boarded the bus and sat down. Not five minutes later a young man boarded the bus. Upon seeing her he got slightly excited and sat beside her. "I just knew I'd see you again," he said. "I'm sorry have we met before," she replied. "Only briefly. We met on this bus a few weeks ago. Just after you got off I realized that you dropped this.." He then pulled her regional disabled bus pass from his jacket with her picture on it. She could hardly contain herself. She was so grateful.

As she was relaying this story to me she said something along the lines of: "It's just so nice to see. Now I'm not sure if I believe in God but I tell you, there is some higher power out there. These kinds of things don't just happen. And it was a YOUNG person nonetheless. I'm just so happy to see that there is still some good in this world." I replied, "There's always been good out there. It just gets harder to find with every day." At this time we were pulling up the stop at 4th and Jackson, where I had to get off. I thanked the woman for sharing her story with me and got off the bus. The rain was coming down hardest yet. Strange thing was that this time it felt more like a baptismal than a punishment...



Saturday night I met PMRob for dinner. After dinner I expected to go home for a quiet evening but PMRob had other ideas. We went to King's for a beer. The scene was a madhouse so we bailed. Went to the Stepping Stone. Great little place. They had live music and good ales. From there he insisted that we continue one our journey and we went to Copper Gate. Swanky little place. I'd go back, but it would definitely have to be with the right group of people. Now at this point I was completely done with the evening, unfortunately it wasn't done with me. We crossed the street and headed up to the Viking, apparently I was having a vitamin R deficiency. We drank the pitcher of Rainier and I ended up talking to this really chill guy from Germany. We talked for a while about skiing and other such nonsense. The bartender made the announcement for last call and I'd realized that I was out too late. This however still wasn't the end. PMRob convinced me that we had to go back to 7-11 and get some Rainiers to drink while we hit up the wii bowling at my place.
However on the way home from 7-11 I found a phone, Blackberry 8900, just sitting on the sidewalk undamaged. I picked it up. I'd thought of getting one many times in the past but decided against it for financial reasons. After picking up the phone I looked through the recent calls and without even thinking about it called the last number to see if I could determine the phones rightful owner. I called the last three numbers with no answer. Then I started poking around and found the Facebook app on his phone. This identified the man as Rodney and I was able to send him a message over FB. However that would be meaningless as the phone rang.

It flashed the name Stanley as it vibrated. I answered it. A voice on the other end said, "So you made it home Jeff?" This kind of freaked me out at first. Mostly because in some ways I am a Jeff. I recollected my thoughts and replied, "No, I'm not sure he did. I found this phone on the sidewalk." "Well I'd say thats not a good sign at all." "I'd say so." "See this isn't Jeff's phone either. He was keeping it safe for a friend of mine. Is it possible for me to meet with you tomorrow to get the phone back?" "Yeah no problem. Just call me tomorrow at this number."

I then spent the next hour explaining the PMRob the situation with the phone. It was a little complicated and he was struggling to understand all the players in this scene. "So you have Stanley's phone?" "No I have Rodney's phone." "Ok, so who's Jeff? And why are you talking to Stanley?" It went on for some time like that. We were up till nearly 5am bowling and drinking and trying to figure out all the pieces.

I woke up Sunday morning and the phone had been ringing off the hook from a variety of different numbers. I finally connected with Stanley who promptly came and picked up the phone. Later that I day I got a call from Rodney. I guess he wants to buy me dinner. It's not a new phone, but I'll take a free dinner for doing the right thing any day...


As I passed through the warehouse this morning they were playing the Beatles. This pleased me greatly...

Drenched in milk and holy water

A great man once said, "And when we break we'll wait for our miracles." All I can say is: I'm patiently waiting for a miracle I fear will never come...

There is a stump in my back yard. It used to be an apple tree I believe. I'm hoping to be able to dig it out in the near future. I think that if I dig deep enough I'll be able to reach a point of eternal bliss. I'll use 2x4's to secure the dig walls at the entrance and a ladder to climb down. Once reaching the bottom of the ladder there will be a room with 20 foot ceiling and marble pillars. Artisans from far and wide will fight for a place to display their work in my underground city. The splendors of ancient Rome will seem like cave drawing next to the majesty of my creation. More likely though I'll just plant another tree there...

I'm beginning to realize more and more everyday that the world is not the place I was led to believe it was...