vol. v: route 66
… i kept exploring, seeking a bit of reality, floating unfragmented, in a cosmic sea which i might call home; that sense of peace always felt just beyond the horizon, unreachable. home is where i make music, a place of warmth and chaos, a safe harbor…
As I begin my journey westward, I recognize the solemnity and significance of the moment. This funeral procession will become a joyful homecoming. My seventh crossing will be the culmination of all that has come to pass. With a final glance at the crumbling foundation of my youth, I turn my focus to the glory of the sunset with reverence and gratitude for the beauty of an ending. The sun will rise on the new reality I have for so long yearned. Today is the death of all I was; endings have within them an odd sense of continuance that coincides with acceptance. Mine is not a game of force or power struggle, but a journey of surrender, observation, authenticity, practice. The grandeur of reality is a reflection of greatness, the beauty of our internal landscapes.
Let us strive, once more, to do the impossible, to traverse the flesh of the Earth with not haste, but appreciation. The cycle has returned my being to familiar space, an earlier time, a rekindling of youth’s brightness amidst the smoldering coals of a burning world. I return with alacrity to memories scorched by the causticity of convenience and commodity. I return home, guided by the longing in my chest, the glint of the Pacific at the end of the pier, which pulls me to the harbors of her heart. Rest now, weary soul; sleep soundly in the quiet of a winter night. Soon, I will rise renewed in the light of the desert sunrise.
On a razor’s edge balances consciousness between misery and majesty. A new age, a crumbling of artifacts and stories buried beneath a patina of rust and abandoned dreams — fictitious. Plush leather booths, gleaming chrome, buzzing neon: the real world has become the stuff of legend, only seen in memories and mimicry. I remain vigilant, finding positivity in the expanse of negative space, the story in the contrast. One day this land too will be explored, recaptured in mental imagery and thoracic warmth.
I descended into the canyon, racing across deep ruts, ignoring the cries of complaint from the suspension. The sun set before I reached the summit; I was lost to the darkness, surrounded by mesquite and encroaching spirits, walls closing in. I made a break for the Rio Grande lest I be rounded up and culled alongside the other rogues that time foolishly credited. I came here to live a narrative, to experience terror and discomfort until deeper truths unknowingly gave themselves to me; what could be a finer declaration of moral balance than to be eaten? ripped to shreds by some legend which haunts those visitors, those conquerors, bastards, demons, and heroes of the dark places. Who are we without villains? Who are villains but misguided men drunk on conviction? If you are convinced, you are conditioned, enticed, and eventually cleansed. The morning will awaken the harbingers of tomorrow’s fortunes and fallacies. I will awake surrounded by that which was once under the sea — completely awash.
#e25019[The Blue House]
As I begin my journey westward, I recognize the solemnity and significance of the moment. This funeral procession will become a joyful homecoming. My seventh crossing will be the culmination of all that has come to pass. With a final glance at the crumbling foundation of my youth, I turn my focus to the glory of the sunset with reverence and gratitude for the beauty of an ending. The sun will rise on the new reality I have for so long yearned. Today is the death of all I was; endings have within them an odd sense of continuance that coincides with acceptance. Mine is not a game of force or power struggle, but a journey of surrender, observation, authenticity, practice. The grandeur of reality is a reflection of greatness, the beauty of our internal landscapes.
Let us strive, once more, to do the impossible, to traverse the flesh of the Earth with not haste, but appreciation. The cycle has returned my being to familiar space, an earlier time, a rekindling of youth’s brightness amidst the smoldering coals of a burning world. I return with alacrity to memories scorched by the causticity of convenience and commodity. I return home, guided by the longing in my chest, the glint of the Pacific at the end of the pier, which pulls me to the harbors of her heart. Rest now, weary soul; sleep soundly in the quiet of a winter night. Soon, I will rise renewed in the light of the desert sunrise.
•••
#e25028a[Route 66, Tucumcari, New Mexico]
On a razor’s edge balances consciousness between misery and majesty. A new age, a crumbling of artifacts and stories buried beneath a patina of rust and abandoned dreams — fictitious. Plush leather booths, gleaming chrome, buzzing neon: the real world has become the stuff of legend, only seen in memories and mimicry. I remain vigilant, finding positivity in the expanse of negative space, the story in the contrast. One day this land too will be explored, recaptured in mental imagery and thoracic warmth.
•••
#e25028b[Rio Grande, Diablo Canyon via Agua Fria]
I descended into the canyon, racing across deep ruts, ignoring the cries of complaint from the suspension. The sun set before I reached the summit; I was lost to the darkness, surrounded by mesquite and encroaching spirits, walls closing in. I made a break for the Rio Grande lest I be rounded up and culled alongside the other rogues that time foolishly credited. I came here to live a narrative, to experience terror and discomfort until deeper truths unknowingly gave themselves to me; what could be a finer declaration of moral balance than to be eaten? ripped to shreds by some legend which haunts those visitors, those conquerors, bastards, demons, and heroes of the dark places. Who are we without villains? Who are villains but misguided men drunk on conviction? If you are convinced, you are conditioned, enticed, and eventually cleansed. The morning will awaken the harbingers of tomorrow’s fortunes and fallacies. I will awake surrounded by that which was once under the sea — completely awash.