Cut Short

They're all leaving as I arrive. He sits, alone, near the smallest pane of plastic. He looks at me, noting the distinct contrast, all the while knowing he only has one more stop. Two more sit down on the lower platform and spark up a cross aisle conversation. They're all wearing winter caps, reminding me of my full exposed scalp. She cries, over and over again. At first I think no one else can hear her. I study the portrait of their eyes. A glimmer. An age. A french word I don't know. I knew that they heard it in every vein. I knew they've heard it so long now it just lives as a white noise in their lives. Columbia, next stop.

Underneath modern day obelisks, they all stand alone at arms length. 

*This went on for six more paragraphs, now lost in technology*

Fortnight; or "Missing a fictional flight"

The moon is an incredible thing, both cyclical and constant. The moon will be new at 10:29 am Friday December 11th. This is a welcome change. Thanksgiving brought about the full Beaver Moon, which has not treated me well. Perhaps the Cold Moon will be different. I guess we'll know in two weeks...

Last night I was late to catch a plane. I was frantically trying to pack for a weekend trip to Chicago. I couldn't figure out what to pack so I started loading duffle bags into a suitcase. Our flight was only 90 minutes away and we'd still not left West Seattle when I realized my ID was still at the bar from the night before. I ran the two miles to recover the identification to find that the junction was in the middle of some sort of winter street fair. Shortly after we caught a bus to the airport. The driver was sympathetic to the situation and decided to take us directly to the terminal with no other stops. I was already on the tram when I realized I had forgotten my boarding pass. Then I fell asleep. I woke up at a bus station outside the airport. The possibility of catching my flight was all but gone at this point. I lit a cigarette and took a moment as I walked back towards the terminals. There was a scene in the parking garage where the elevator took me to the wrong floor. I was running through the halls, bags falling out of my suitcase. I finally made it to my flight, tired and wheezing from all the running. "Cutting it a little close aren't we sir?" "I can't believe I made it!" "I'll just need to see your boarding pass." I'd never went back to get one...

In 2007, as a christmas gift, a friend adopted an Orca for me through the WWF. I have a certificate on the wall in my office to remind me of this. I often wonder if my Orca is still alive or how many other people "adopted" the same one....

Jai guru deva om.,..

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...

Vanity; "I don't know you"

It's a very strange sensation to look at yourself and not find what you'd expect looking back at you. I look nothing like the person I was four years ago. I have worked very hard to change my outward appearance. And while I'd tell you it was motivated by health concerns, I'd be lying to you.

I have actively been making an effort to dispose the things in my life that have brought me unhappiness. My personal appearance was one of those things. I got very good at acting like things didn't bother me but they did, more than can be expressed here. I was a miserable person who put all his energy into putting on a face that showed otherwise instead of actually changing it. In 30 years I had gotten very good at acting I was something I wasn't.

Unfortunately the immensity of my past negative self image is now something that I will carry with me, probably all my life. I've finally accomplished my original goals from 3 years ago and I find there is still more to do before I'm done. Highly superficial changes that I feel I've earned or am in some way entitled to because of my accomplishment, so it didn't surprise me too much when he said, "You're so vain."

The words hurt, only because they were becoming increasingly true. If you were to see the collection of images that I have accumulated on my phone of late you would fully understand. It takes me twice as long to leave the house than it used to. I didn't even see it happening.

I've thought about those words daily since they were said to me over a month ago.

I was angry at the accusation, feeling entitled to my vanity by means of hard work. I was ashamed of myself for exhibiting something so foreign to who I've been in the past. But in the end I was confused. Confused because I couldn't rationalize the definition of vanity without first being able to understand the definition of self.

"I don't know you."

*****

I woke up this morning and went to the bathroom to wash my face. It was early, before 8 am, which is early for a Sunday. Not unlike other mornings I stopped and stared at my face in the mirror, still dripping with water.

"I don't know you."
"I understand you feel that way now, but in time you will."
"We've been doing this for years now, and I still don't feel like we've made any progress."
"That's because you continue to change, as do I."
"How can I ever keep up?"
"In time you'll find a way. Remember it's more than just in image."

A thick fog hung over the concrete as I made my way down Delridge. I've traveled this road as many years as I've been around but today all the differences were alive. Yards that were once filled with cars so rusted they couldn't even be sold for scrap were replaced with townhouses so tight the dandelions can't grow. Where there was once white painted fences in varying stages of decay now there was wrought iron bars topped with Fleur-de-lis'. The bodegas now coffee shops.

Some of the old buildings still remain untouched. It's obvious that their time will come soon. I could see their replacements already sprouting in land-use action boards along the sidewalk as I spoke with the concrete.

"Can they see their own fate?"
"Our time here is short, but they remember the good years."
"Doesn't it make you sad to know we're all so replaceable?"
"It brings me happiness to know that they've served a purpose for so many years. Our purposes will all near an end and we must make room for those to come."
"I wish we could just make more room for everything."
"If you got that wish you wouldn't like it either."

In time all things come to an end, an inevitability whose resolve is ignorant to my disposition, though I'm learning to accept it. I cannot stop it, through fire or age we all must experience ruination, and not just us as people. It will happen to trees and cities, monoliths and friendships. How can I ever keep up?

As I reached the final stretches of Delridge the past was even more removed. None of the old buildings remained, save a plumbers workshop and a school, no longer a school, who was able to keep its facade in the chaos. The play fields were full of life, soccer matches and little league games. The children ran about the grass as their parents and grandparents sat idly on aluminum bleachers.

"You see it happens in all things."
"There are some things I want to hold on to. Some people."
"The longer you hold on the harder you make it for yourself, and for them."
"Can't I keep just a part of them?"
"If you do remember to pick a part of what they have become and not what they once were."

*****

I've also started dreaming again. I doubt these things are related. 

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."

When I was ten

A woman told me, "someday you'll do something great." She didn't know what it was then. I still don't know what it is now. But I think about that day from time to time.

Holy Hozomeen

M83

What are you looking for?

"What are you looking for Mommy?"

Julie's words jolted Mary back into reality. She been rummaging through every cupboard in the kitchen for the last 10 minutes. It didn't even occur to her that she didn't remember what she was trying to find until the little girls words reminded her that there was a goal. She just stopped and stared into the baseboard molding for a moment.

"Honey, I'm not even sure anymore."

She stood up, leaving the left over spaghetti in the Tupperware on the counter still uncovered, and picked Julie up. She was bigger than Mary had remembered, but it had been some time since she'd held her child. There just didn't seem to be the time anymore. She was thankful for the extra hours at work, even though they barely covered the increase in childcare costs, it gave her an escape from her reality.

It was a place that she could go and everything was in order, her place on the line never changed, and all she had to do was inspect one shoe after another. They all looked the same but every so often there would be an obvious defect, which she would throw casually to her side. She could usually see the bad ones coming from up the line, once you've seen as many shoes as she has the small faults become obvious. It was all second nature to her now. Often times she'd daydream at work. Her mind would wander and eventually it would always come back to Greg. Why wasn't she able to see it coming? What was so different between the men she meets and the shoes on the conveyor belt?

She laid Julie down on her princess comforter and kissed her on the forehead. "Mommy, do you think Daddy has found what he's looking for yet? I miss him."

"I'm not sure he remembers what he's looking for either anymore honey."

****
"Let me just grab my coat and I'll meet you outside."
It was early in the evening. The sun had set hours ago, but with the solstice only a week passed that didn't mean it was late. I had so many people to talk to, I didn't even know where to begin.

"How've ya been? Did the year treat you well?"
"Yeah, it's crazy though."
"Ha, tell me about it. Oh, by the way, I'm..."
"You're what?"

Everyone was wearing masks. There was no real reason, just wanted to try something different. Is it easier to express the truths of ones self while hiding behind a counterfeit facade? Gin has a way of making me over think things.

"Where's my goddamn coat?!"
"Did you check on the coat rack?"
"Do I look like an idiot? Just cause I'm drunk doesn't make me an idiot."

Somewhere across the room a shot glass falls to the concrete and a group of party goers gasp in horror as their taste buds burn away in an ecstasy that only 100 proof whiskey can provide.

"So, it's almost midnight and I promised myself that I'd talk to some people before the new year. You're one of those people..."
"Cool, what's up?"
"I'm....I guess I'm not sure what else to say here."
"You don't have to say anything else."

The clock struck and a song from years passed came on. I looked around the room at all the faces, many I'd known much longer than I'd known myself. I hope you all know I'm not doing this for your benefit.

"Have you seen my coat? It's blue with cigarettes in the pocket."
"No sorry, have you checked the coat rack?"
"Ugh, yes I have, keep an eye out."
"You just need a cigarette? Here you go."

Outside the air was cold, but clean, the same couldn't be said for the ground. Half finished cocktails and joint roaches littered the parking lot. It's funny how so many believe refuse to believe.

"So, you may have heard but I'm..."
"What? No, no no."
"It's the truth."
"No, you're not. Now let's go dancing!"

The smell of stale booze hung heavy in the air while everyone said their farewells. It would be another year before I'd see some of them. Others I'd probably never see again. When the only ones left were those I'd see again tomorrow, I found my jacket, hanging on the coat rack.

****

I thought about doing a third piece here, but now that I'm here it's not what I'm looking for right now.