How quickly we move; how slowly I move. Not from one moment to the next, but like a long breathe drawing itself in, then out, the tide, the seasons, the slow, gentle touch of age. Flowing without divisions and without deadlines. No discipline, no self-discipline, but it takes every muscle, every thought, to keep from moving along with the pressure. Blowing myself into unhappy ticks and tocks. With a suffocating anticipation they wait for me to climb onboard. They wonder why I take so much time to stay or so much time to waste when I could be finding or making. Find a mate, make a family, find a job, make a future. This is my life; I will live it slowly. I will not live my life between sick days and vacation time. I will not live to work until I am no longer useful. I will not work to live only to find that I have no time left for living at the end of each day, season, year, years. I want my work to be life. I settle for nothing less and accept nothing more, an immeasurable self-discipline is one that cannot be judged. There is only now. One foot in front of the other.
March 25 2015 The day started out foggy and grew bright. We had our first big climb and started meeting a lot of new people. We were in the
Orange light illuminated the green tarp of my tiny, Easton tent. My mom and I unpacked ourselves from the sardine position and situated ourselves for
March 23 One year ago today I started my thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. Nothing was certain and everything seemed overwhelming. It was like
Hot and sunny to sleeting rain overnight. Thunderstorms to cold clear 17 degrees and freezing our asses off. Hiking isn’t difficult, weather is