Everyday I come to the library to charge my laptop and check my email. The solar system on board my sail boat is not equipped to do anything more than run my navigation lights and bilge pump...yet. But soon I will be able to dispense with the time wasting and stream line my days to peak efficiency and maximize my fishing, writing, productivity on the boat renovations, and, of course, napping. Fundamentally, if you're in the Keys and working your ass off, it's time to sit back and reevaluate your life because something is seriously wrong.
I myself have several irons in the fire at the moment, and in the coming weeks at least one will reveal itself as a viable means of support while I work on bigger projects. None of which involve punching a clock of any sort, as I am simply not wired that way. Alot of folks like to throw around the word "lazy" in regards to my lifestyle, and my only response to that is a simple dare to abandon any sort of security and make your own way in the world. It's easier to walk on pavement than through the woods, and of the two, one is certainly more lazy than the other; its also a helluva lot more boring.
The settling down is harder to get used to than I thought it would be. There are times when something small and simple will launch my mind into the past to relive something from the Road. A cave I camped out in, a party I wound up at, friends on a beach in Mexico, watching pretty girls walk by in a New York City park, discovering some small creature I had only read about before, the endless hours of beautiful solitude on the side of the Road with nothing but my thoughts for company. Sometimes I can't close my eyes without a tidal wave of pictures and voices and feelings flooding my mind. Now without alcohol to tone it all down, my only hope is the completion of my book to find a measure of peace until I begin traveling again.
Neil Peart the drummer for Rush once said something to the effect of any time he was experiencing any personal turmoil he would immerse himself in playing his drums. His tortured soul could find salvation in banging 2 sticks around. While I can't pretend to be anywhere near as gifted or talented at ANYTHING as he is playing his drums, the same does hold true for me. When I find my proper groove on the key board to tell a story, or sit patiently behind a rifle to make a perfect shot; the whole of the world falls away, and nothing else can exist. Myself and the object of my focus are creation in its entirety which the universe obediently revolves around, and my soul is laid bare to perform the task for which it was made.
And this is peace.
I myself have several irons in the fire at the moment, and in the coming weeks at least one will reveal itself as a viable means of support while I work on bigger projects. None of which involve punching a clock of any sort, as I am simply not wired that way. Alot of folks like to throw around the word "lazy" in regards to my lifestyle, and my only response to that is a simple dare to abandon any sort of security and make your own way in the world. It's easier to walk on pavement than through the woods, and of the two, one is certainly more lazy than the other; its also a helluva lot more boring.
The settling down is harder to get used to than I thought it would be. There are times when something small and simple will launch my mind into the past to relive something from the Road. A cave I camped out in, a party I wound up at, friends on a beach in Mexico, watching pretty girls walk by in a New York City park, discovering some small creature I had only read about before, the endless hours of beautiful solitude on the side of the Road with nothing but my thoughts for company. Sometimes I can't close my eyes without a tidal wave of pictures and voices and feelings flooding my mind. Now without alcohol to tone it all down, my only hope is the completion of my book to find a measure of peace until I begin traveling again.
Neil Peart the drummer for Rush once said something to the effect of any time he was experiencing any personal turmoil he would immerse himself in playing his drums. His tortured soul could find salvation in banging 2 sticks around. While I can't pretend to be anywhere near as gifted or talented at ANYTHING as he is playing his drums, the same does hold true for me. When I find my proper groove on the key board to tell a story, or sit patiently behind a rifle to make a perfect shot; the whole of the world falls away, and nothing else can exist. Myself and the object of my focus are creation in its entirety which the universe obediently revolves around, and my soul is laid bare to perform the task for which it was made.
And this is peace.