These types of things typically make me sick. By ”sick” I mean inconsolably annoyed, and by “these types of things" I mean the convoluted projects of self-righteous travel writers, photojournalists, voluntourists and outdoors enthusiasts whose objectives are to regurgitate the same, linear play-by-play postcard-worthy content to their entertainment-starved Patreon supporters. I am no self-appointed guru, nor am I on a quest for enlightenment, money, or instagram fame, nor am I as capable, talented or qualified as most of my peers, either in outdoor skills or in actions of the pen. Should I fall victim to any of the cliche pitfalls or hypocrisies that my lifestyle may suggest, I’d only implore you, the reader, whoever you may be, to not only accept my humility on the matter, but also to help keep me honest. This way, we keep each other both honest. All on the same chopping block.
“If something can be destroyed by the truth, then it deserves to be destroyed by the truth”.
-Carl Sagan
I’d be lying, too if I were to say that I my primary reason for being out here wasn’t mental health. At least, that’s how I’d figure it. But plenty more on that later.
It’s the subtle reason why things happen in the way that they do even within the civilized world, when our brains warp under the pressures we apply for whatever reason or another.
I left what I thought was my ego behind, to lead what I wanted to consider to be a more intentional life. What I’ve found (and this comes as a surprise every time) was that to answer one question I had to learn how to ask a hundred different ones, and furthermore to LEARN anything requires an intimidating amount of UNlearning first.
These stories are nonlinear, qnd are ultimately about integration, and by that I mean my feeble grasps at it. To bridge a gap of communication I see between what may be considered an unseen natural world and a wilder modern one that seems to be on fire with its own insanity. As I awkwardly grope at these insights, recount the humanity we share. The only story ever really worth telling is the one about compassion anyway. So as colored as my senses' interpretations are of reality, so will my skewed, often delayed, always distorted vocalizations here be. I’d apologize but then again, I honestly wouldn’t.
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