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One of the beautiful things about the west is one's ability to be alone. I feel that one's true understanding of self comes from time spent alone. Of course we learn from our surroundings, people, places and things. But when we are really alone we are able to connect with something that makes us whole. Something more powerful, something more true, something real.
As an early teen there were two books that I was obsessed with. "Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer and "Indian Creek Chronicles" by Pete Fromm. The fundamental idea behind these two books is that of connecting with something greater and the journey of two boys/men into an unknown land while trying to gain some understanding of one's self. Growing up, during parts of the spring, winter and the entire summer I would disappear out west with this idea that there was something that I was to find. I would spend days on end alone, in the woods, mountains, rivers with no noise, no cars, no other people. As a person whose head is constantly running with no peace or silence, these were the only places that I was able to find any type of stillness.
Living in the city alows me no stillness, constant running, constant noise. And its not that I don't like the noise, its the fact that I can find no escape from it. While out west I was able to disappear, not run away, but take a break, even if its just for a few hours. Those few hours where I was truly alone were the few hours where I was able to be honest with myself, where I found some peace in the life that I was living.
Today the things that create the noise in my head have been narrowed down to a few. When those things are going well there is not too much noise. But if there is even a notion that there might be something wrong with those things so much noise is created that part of me does want to run away. I guess that my main point is my curiosity in the reason for this. Yes it comes back to fear in some shape or form, but why? |
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