The Adventures of Michael Conrad II

endings...

2011-07-03T14:43:00.002-05:00

back officially on the grid. wrapping up our two plus weeks away. yesterday concluding our long anticipated week long stay at Red Feather.

we are back on the road again, this time heading home.

I currently sit amongst a copse of trees off the interstate in the midst of the Dakota prairie grasslands, and with the breeze cooling the wide-bright sun, i may be close to a perfect summer day. (generations of men lived and died by the sweat of their brows to settle and homestead these rolling plains, and I can see the beauty today which may have been their yearly silver lining).

We spent a rainy night (surprise surprise....how many nights has it rained on us now?), but a lovely crisp morning in the truly wild, and moonlike landscape of the Dakota Badlands. It was a long bumpy (12 mile down a dirt road) ride through the rain, the prairie-dogs and the roaming buffalo (no fences, right on the road), but ending up being quite a spectacle. the low clouds obscured our long views but brought an intense lightning show, of which I've never seen. the vibrant yellow orange sunset sky was reminiscent of a wildfire consuming the land just over the hills. excellent.

and there is much beauty around me, and many things to marvel at, but i cannot deny that there is an air of mixed feelings.

our time at Red Feather was hard. hard work. long days. with equally hard realizations that this may be our last time. life, and it's inevitable changes, marches on. I think Carly and I have both, inadvertently, been comparing each new Red Feather experience with our first time back in '06, the one that started it all. but first times are always special, and rarely repeatable.

this knowledge that we've changed, and Red Feather has changed, and life is changing, coincides with the long drive back home, and our return to another life, jobs, responsibilities, et al. and while this breeze breeds a peace under this leafy treed sunshine, i feel many things: joy, anticipation, heartache, love and loss.

i spoke before about how this trip has meant much for me, and with each mile we traverse, i see the meaning more and more clearly. these memories that Carly and I have shared have joined many others (both on and off the road), and have begun to form a wonderful base on which to launch ourselves into so much more...

gambling...

2011-06-24T09:49:00.002-05:00

sometimes, when on the road, off the grid, or in the wild, you have to gamble a little bit. with proper planning you obviously hedge your bets, but at the end of the day, every decision has a bit of gambling in it, when the world around you is in far more control that you are.

are we going to have enough gas to make it to the next dot on the map? i think so. (PSA: not all montana towns have services...)

if i go down this trail, are there going to be elk/moose/bears? pocket knife: check. bear spray: check. healthy fear/respect of nature: check.

which route do i take to get where i'm going? are the roads closed? mountain passes impassable?

and the one the one that affected us most yesterday: do we leave the comfort of our great campsite on the East Side of Glacier (at the edge of a meadow, under the snow capped mountains, with the rushing of a river in the distance, mind you...) and travel to the West Side of Glacier for another type of experience? Two hours over winding, gravely, no-guardrail, beautiful mountain "highway" (barely paved road is more appropriate). Each way.

either we stay or we throw the chips in and gamble that it will be an equally awesome experience.... no coming back.

well...........i've had a lot of luck on the road in my traveling over the years.....yesterday was not one of those lucky times.

no sooner had we made the arduous journey to West Glacier, but angry clouds rolled in on us, and the bottom dropped out. middle of the day. middle of the summer. cold, angry, dark, dark skies. and we learned a valuable lesson. no campsite looks good when it's torrentially pouring rain.

sadly, the mountains, the lake, and all the glacial beauty was kind of darkened as well. but all was not lost. like most times, a little patience goes a long way.

the sun broke, the lake shimmered, the mountains glistened, and hope returned to our little world. we made our camp, took our pictures and picnic-ed down by the water's edge (at 9pm actually, which doesn't seem weird when it's light until 10:30pm), enjoying some warm food as the sun slipped behind the mountains across the lake. a perfect (salvaging) finish to our day.

we gambled our effort and experience, and for a while it was looking like a clear loss. we hung our heads for a bit. but all was not lost, and like many times on the road, when we looked for the silver lining, we weren't disappointed...

the longest day

2011-06-23T11:51:00.000-05:00

So I’ve been thirty for a few days now, and let me tell you, if these last four days have been any indication of the year (or decade) to come, I am in for a ride.

[I need to also thank all my friends and family, and especially my wife, for my birthday gift. Carly requested and compiled well wishes, encouragement, thoughts, blessings and memories from thirty friends/family. It is indescribable to know that you are loved. She is great. You all are great. Life is great…]

And to that end, I have been filled with such joy these last days. After our stormy start, and enough detours to last a lifetime, let me tell you that things have fallen into place, and The Road, in all its romantic beauty, has proven again to be a old friend, with new mysteries and adventures, revealing even more God-hewn-wild-country than before.

Carly and I have found a wonderful rhythm as road trip companions, mixed with memory-filled-music, mapping routes, morning sunshine snoozing (by her mostly…), telling and re-telling old stories, and sometimes just staring out into the big sky, marveling.

As I’m writing, I’m remembering that a lot has happened since I last wrote. We had planned to stay Sunday night at the Badlands, a refuge for the outlaws of old, and a place with an untold and other-worldly beauty. But it wasn’t in the cards. Storms move fast and hit hard out on the prairie, and having had our share of thunderstorms, we thought we’d pass. We headed on.

Having taken the time to see Rushmore and Crazy Horse, we stumbled, not upon a mountain hotel which had been the plan, but a quaint camping spot nestled in granite boulders and pine trees overlooking a small lake. It poured all night on us, except when we needed to break camp the next morn. How kind.

Next stop was in Billings, for a shower, a warm bed, a few sweet moments with friends, and to buy some bear spray. That’s right. Bear spray. Can’t go to Glacier without bear spray. Come on.

Which now brings us to a tent on the longest day of the year, at the base of a snow capped mountain range, overlooking a glacial melt lake, thousands of miles from home, at the top of the world, it would seem. I feel like I’d need fifty June 21’s to take in and appreciate all that we've seen.

…and it may come as no surprise to you, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now. It’s been a good day…

detours and undeterred

2011-06-19T10:55:00.001-05:00

When going on a road trip, one must make concessions. You have to give up some small part of the experience to gain the whole. If you choose to take the ‘blue highways’, you’ll see much of true America, but either you won’t get far, or you’ll spend your entire day trapped behind the wheel of a car. You might miss some interesting little things, if you take the interstate, but you arrive quicker, allowing time to relax and enjoy your destination. Each divergent decision reveals to us a different scene, a different slice of Americana.

But at the end of the day, perhaps, I subscribe stronger, to a philosophy that has suited me well these past years. That, like many things, it is ALL about the journey and not about the destination. No matter where you end up (as long as you were trying to go somewhere), that is where, for the moment, that you are supposed to be.

This is not an admission of a belief in fate or predestination, but a realization that HE who is in control of our lives, sees much, and may often direct us to places we didn’t know we needed to be. (granted, now I’m speaking both philosophically and geographically.) And that much can be learned ‘along the way’ if we are not always 100% focused on ‘getting there’.

Road trips certainly hold this to be true. The world is too big, there are too many opportunities for us to be waylaid, and there is much to see between here and somewhere. Detours on the road (and in life) can become some of the best times.

Yesterday, though, tested the limits of this philosophy. After we had dried off from the morning storm and gotten some hot food/coffee in our bellies, we set out to drive 500+ miles across a few states. With the sun shining, the music playing, with my best friend at my side, it seemed like nothing could deter us. Wrong. As we progressively got closer to our destinations, detour after detour, flooded river after closed road, derailed our plans for a simple 9hr drive.

Needless to say, after driving through a partly flooded interstate, we became intimately knowledgeable of the back roads of corn-growing, flag-waiving, truck-loving Nebraska. We must have been diverted off our path 3-4 times by a sign impelling us to find a different route.

11.5 hours later, the arrival at Ponca SP, on the cliffs of Nebraska, overlooking the wide Missouri river just a Lewis and Clark had done (awesome!), was a long time coming but well worth it. We stumbled upon a quiet, secluded camping spot in a grassy field at the end of a road. Dinner, smores, fire, relaxing. And now I enjoy a crisp-air, birdsong-filled, quiet sunrise this morning, all to myself.

I’ve seen a few detours in my life and on the road, and I’ve benefitted from each one. Yesterday was no different…

rough start

2011-06-19T10:53:00.002-05:00

[i was supposed to have posted this yesterday]

I had the best intentions to steal a few minutes yesterday, in the midst of packing, to write. But as is most often, the war for more time, is lost to the details of packing & preparation.

I had spent the morning considering what would be an appropriate topic to write about as a 'going away' post. and had nearly given up on good ideas when i saw something that sparked something. I saw a guy mowing his lawn. shocker. but it struck me, this action/mentality of mowing (and keeping) a lawn. (especially in TN, where it grows plentifully in the summer.) i suppose it boils down to an essentially civilized desire: to tame the land.

a friend recently shared a great quote with me, on how our forefathers lived amongst the wild and dreamed of civilization, whereas we now live in unabashed civilization, and we (some of at least) dream of the wild. my caveat in all of this, i think, is that many still want to tame their piece of the land, while happily relegating 'the wild' to sequestered parks and the history books.

not i.

i'm learning more (now that we're on the trip) about how important this particular road trip is to me. but at least in a small part, we're heading back out into the wild country, heading to one of the wildest and most untamed portions of our country: Glacier NP, and this fact excites me with that wonderful mix of wonder, adventure and healthy respect.

last night was definitely one of those times where the idealized venture "back into the wild" loses all it's excitement and adventure and quickly becomes a lesson in healthy respect for the natural world. last night we spent the night in Babler State Park just outside St. Louis, MO. the darkened campground at 11pm last night seemed innocuous enough, but as the light pattering of rain and tornado sires woke us up at 5am, simple instinct kicked in.

A thunderous, lightning-cracking storm opened up on us and our little tent. We stuffed as much of the gear into the car, and Carly furiously leapt into the front seat. By that point, there was no point in running around, as I had been drenched to the bone. I proceeded to breakdown the tent in the pouring rain as Carly looked on, with mixed emotions of laughter at my pitful, wet plight, and fear for my safety in a clearly dangerous storm. A short while later, with wet gear and clothes in garbage bags, we drove on and headed west to escape the storm.

And we did.

And as we drive on, I consider, “isn’t that just how it is?” Life is full of a mixture of fear and laughter in the midst of storms, and if you keep driving, there’s blue just beyond…

the return

2011-06-13T09:04:00.003-05:00

why do we apologize to our blogs?

perhaps we'd like to believe that the masses have been checking our site every day, waiting-on-baited-breath to hear and read more. but i think that truthfully, a blog is nothing more than a representative of your life, your discipline, your commitment. I think we apologize because we realize this. that sadly we are not as focused/disciplined/committed to certain things in our lives. Exercising, blogging, gardening, personal spiritual time. they all take time, energy and discipline.

I'm sorry blog. I'm sorry i neglected you. thanks for keeping all my posts, though, and letting me go back and see where i've been. that's always nice.

....so after the obligatory apologizing, real blogging can begin.

I guess my return to blogging mostly stems from from two sources. (again, as mentioned before, I would love to write and say that I just woke up this morn and felt the unquenchable need to blog and that i was a changed man, but, alas, it's not true.)

First, Carly and I are about to embark on a ROAD TRIP. Woot! With any luck, we'll try and blog about our 2.5 weeks of travel, camping, and Red Feather. It'll be the first time we've really had an opportunity to go on the road since we've been married and moved to TN. (We were fortunate enough to make it back to Red Feather/Hopi last September, but we flew.) I suppose this is the funny and not so funny truism of life. as life hands you newer and newer levels of responsibility, you realize that you are more unfettered/free/footloose now, compared to the 'future'. I'm glad we have this opportunity.

Secondly, I've been inspired by a lot of my friends out there, who blog about their lives. It's not an everyday thing, (and I think they'll agree) but the occasional opportunity to put your recent life experiences down in words. Thanks fellow bloggers!

Stay tuned for more musings.....

bereft yet full

2009-03-14T16:51:00.000-05:00

i'm wrung out
with no idea of what's next
tears and coffee drip out of me
-very little blood left-

reaching the end of wit
floods smallness and humanity
brimming to my eyes,
the palpable reminiscence
of my lacking ability
to control the world.

the air goes silent,
-ringing-
people mouthing so many helpful
distant things.
vision blurs
the future dims
and each labored footfall
against the wind
hurts.

poetries and scripturings--
prayers by me
for me
from some other wayfarer
who's walked this trail before
or begrudgingly foretold the story

peace is felt in the flow
of a pen
or in the little blood
there is left...

no words but the inspiration within me....

2009-02-06T17:36:00.000-06:00

i find beauty in the jagged edges on a map,
-the unkempt lines that separate us-
seeing that the land, still our better
even yet defines us.

give me broken, untaut borders
and the rocky, beguiling coasts
so that i may never find myself confined.

no cabin fever here

2009-01-16T10:49:00.000-06:00

long over due. often need an impetus of unique qualities to get me back here with my pen.

fresh percolated coffee rests to my right, the fire in the place ticks its approval of our being here. warming and burning the logs chopped with our own collective hands.

i forget how healing this mountain get-away is until i am rested in its rustic clutches.

just a few friends and i, nestled away from the cold, enjoying the simpler pleasures of and in the high country. a mountain brewery, rich-fine coffee, a deck of cards, a board game, and four pairs of snowshoes.

in taking a moment, i have found exactly what i was looking for.

prescriptions and precipitates...

2008-12-19T16:51:00.000-06:00

two little pills every meal. one packet in the morning and one in the evening. think positively so as to preemptively overcome. listen only to the soothing sounds of Iron & Wine. Call me in the morning.

this is the prescription i wrote myself a day or two ago. while not admitting that some sickness may be attacking, i feel the comings on. the two pills are 'purple cornflower', known as echinacea. the two packets are emergen-C. nothing drastic here. assume no defeat until it's too late. always was a trail blazer. blazing trails potentially into sickness and idiocy.

actually, i something much stranger than all that happened today. after literally freezing temps on mon and tues, rainy cold on wed and thurs, the ever fickle natured weather sprung on us a 75 degree day. clear and bright. a long standing truth is learned. weather is held in check and known by no man. the earth and it's maker are mighty and whimsical.

another truth. the world, beyond the weather, is less and less known. and as i am now, i must prepare for the winter and the seasons ahead. thicken my skin, protect what is dear.

storms are a-comin. meet me in the shelter. i'll bring the Iron & Wine.

the snow keeps me sharp...

2008-12-13T13:27:00.001-06:00

i will attempt to overwhelm you (or maybe just regular-whelm you) today with two, yes two posts, after not having written in as many months.

i must tell you of something new for me, that rouses a child like excitement that is nothing less than refreshing. it snowed. a pretty good one for old nash. first, i've never lived in the snow. second, supposedly, it never sticks. well, a couple inches fell on thurs night and it's still here this morning, glistening and crackling under foot, when one ventures out into it, leaving the warmth of layers, couches, and pressed hot black medicine (coffee).

my love and i took a walk in the falling down the other night as it dusted all around us. both God and man made things were made as one under that soft white, and how unlike anything else and quite amazing it is to see the trees and grass and ground with their white shadows, their snowy outlines. it places a romanticism in the thin chilled air as everything made beautiful.

i think perhaps the contrast between inside and outside becomes more drastic. i peak out the window and see a world beyond that to step into takes thought and preparation. i am protected from it all and this is my home. perhaps the cozy connotations of home become more readily felt when the frozen out-of-doors lays kept at bay.

when prepared, both in mind and in dress, the snow and cold is a wonderful thing!

over the thanxgiving time, i awoke one morning and like a strong wind i was compelled to write. i'd like to share that with you now. and secondly, i'm reminded of an older poem that i wrote that today's snowy day just demands that i include.

i endeavor to write to you more while my mind, far from the frozen world, is warm and alive with words and dreams.

----------------------------
'daybreaking'

the daybreak sun
pushes down
tirelessly
through fog and
the fragile early hour frost,
breaking apart shadows
and the sediment
of yesterday's worries.

the night may capture
all of the previous day
holding our thoughts
like the stiff green/white grass,
but the still and cold
that holds it all in silence
effortlessly bleeds into
that morning peace--
quiet reverie of newness.

all will thaw
and is made whole and new
at the first glows
stretching far from the horizon.

when these panes of glass
hold not back that daybreak sun
from my face,
my eyes behold a clarity
so sharp
and my mind rests in that
healing morning silence.

----------------------------
'sd snow'

the snow fell
or so the pictures told.
it fell for you
deep into my spring months.
the weather’s promise
of the cold
became old tradition
for you and your Midwest.

hugging branches
and porch banisters,
sleeping in stream beds,
the white erases the past
in icy breaths.

though I sit hearthed and homed
a thousand miles away
from your familiar
snow clouded skies,
the draft from under the door
brings crystalline water memories
and a chill to my neck.

as I put the water
on to boil,
I peak out the window shade
to my own cool evening sky,
snowed pictures in hand.

----------------------------

snippits...signposts...and ostensible musings...

2008-12-13T12:40:00.000-06:00

-- "i saw a tree in my travels today, half ablaze in yellow and orange leaves, fiery rustling in the biting cool breeze, and half barren, naked, still. winter chill is upon us and the autumn winds and the hues they bring are leaving." --

i wrote that on the ninth of november, a far cry and time from today's winter day. how funny. while driving i saw this tree, normal to any other on any other day, but that day it spoke to me. clearly. the changing of season, the change following the chapters in our lives. my time here has been brimming with much change, naturally. and perhaps one of the hard aspects of life and local change is the retention of all the good that has come before.

i, as we all do, get very much wrapped in all this important and unimportant here, with my job, with my love, and with this new whirling future. then, in waves, little bits, memories mostly, flood back with all their smells, sounds, and tactile veracity, and i am taken sad for parts of days. my mind, in the silence of my focused woodworking, has much time to pass to and fro through time, and traverse the states, timezones, mountains and miles to visit all those i hold in love. one memory or carefully wrapped bunch of memories that i return to often is that of my time on the indian reservations. a few weeks ago, though i cannot recall when, i jotted this in a failed attempt to blog. at the time, i believe i tried to tack these two fragments together, in hopes of appeasing the guilt that eats at my for not writing. but, now, i have properly eulogized those false starts of creative thought but giving them at least a small frame in which to persist.

-- "i'm missing the rez. there is no eloquent way to put it, though i sit here and stare at the keys, trying to paint that longing in some softer way, just to ease it a little. i miss that something that is ephemeral as my telling you of it." --

i suppose that the most interesting thing is not the words or sentiments that either contain, but perhaps their lasting worth comes from their comparison and contrast to today's day. and all the things that i'm feeling now. little sign posts to consider in looking back.

life is settling into a veritable rhythm, and this passage of time does not tarnish the past, but rather affords me time to take each thought and polish it's exterior to the glow of loving memory...

still breathing...

2008-10-24T00:13:00.000-05:00

life is very seldom what it seems at first glance. we never end up at the end of the path we think we are walking down.

to make it, just to survive sometimes, we must call upon our future selves, draw up the spirit of the mature, mighty oak already alive and well within us to carry us along in the thin times that stretch us and threaten to break us limb from limb. but there is provision out there, laid up in waiting for us, ready to cradle us in layers of soft peace.

yet i find myself trying to suck in the air, instead of relenting, and allowing the free flowing breath to rush into me. i fretfully try and hold all the little shards of the present between my fingers, hoping to put the pieces together into my jig-sawed future. but, oh, the buoyancy and flight that we have when we 'breathe past' the hills and valleys.

tomorrow is here, and the present is one thought behind you. hindsight gives that crystal vision that we needed today. we crave it, that blessed perspective that equalizes. but for such a future minded people (or at least we hope to be), we fall prey to the so essentially and desperately human problem of being stuck in our present.

i'm not saying leave no thought for today. but it's rolling and frothing, wavelike, desiring to carry us forward or to suck us down into the tumult beneath the waters.

i'm, one day at a time, one step closer to finding my breathing pattern, and i'm just trying not to drown...

oh, waning moon, you leave me wanting...,

2008-10-17T14:47:00.000-05:00

i always wait with such innocent anticipation for that full moon. and it always seems to take forever to fill that last little bit in. and then, if you don't catch it right....if you don't see it in it's full beauty, it slips effortlessly away. that golden moment passes and leaves you with days and weeks of familiar anticipation.

the lunar cycle of these events in my recently life have been occurring with great radiance. but here i am on the waning side, and the waiting is torturous.

oh how the moon, that harvest moon, that peaked over the mesa horizon in Hopiland, was full and shown for what seemed like night after night. the fullness and ecstasy of that surreal time with RedFeather, hung in the air those same nights. but that time and now that memory is feeling like that last slipping silver sliver.

then the expectation and all that came along with the move. now here i am in Nash, the roads becoming familiar, and here i am in my own apartment writing, bereft of typical furnishings, yet content. the warm feeling of this new home contrasts with a constant, yet waning, feeling of displacement.

my anticipation, (which i believe is a sane and necessary human trait but must be tempered with a simultaneous present-focused revelry in what you already possess), now turns me to thoughts of a job, a career. hard to find. harder in these times.

on a side note, i'm enjoying the cooler weather, and rather looking forward to sweaters, and scarves and that winter melancholy that is soothed with another warm body, hot coffee, and a burning fireplace.

just need to catch a break, i think. and i'm feeling right on the verge of that. i can see the moon is almost full again, and the waiting is almost over...

definition and dreams

2008-10-15T17:39:00.000-05:00

trying hard not to equate job stability with the sense of place or home. but it's hard not to. hard to find great places who just aren't ready or able to hire. hard to find places anxious to hire but not quite right for me. hard to feel like one of the cattle, out on the much-too-small-range, hustling for my piece.

don't want to miss the opportunities. but don't want to jump just at the first prospect just because i'm hungry. want, most of all, to find the right job. the place that is going to give my heart peace, my hands challenging work. can't give up, though it's all i want to do after a hard day like today.

i am at a place of faith, if i've ever seen one. i need to trust that i'm gonna be okay, but do the necessary leg work. need to trust that the right thing is gonna come along, but i can't wait for it.

some moments of the day, i want to better my station and move up and outward to places unknown. sometimes i just want to be a simple carpenter who knows who he is and cherishes life in the same way he appreciates a fine piece of wood.

this crossroads, this junction, is so much more than just a marker in my life. i am choosing how to define myself, and the weight of such things is pressing.

i am thankful for the little i do know and i do have:

for her.
for my health.
for my dreams.

i suppose that is enough for now...

pacing my life...

2008-10-14T13:46:00.000-05:00

(the new band in my ears: Fleet Foxes....check 'em out...)

do we consider pace as an important aspect of our lives?

it seems as if the world has picked up to a break-neck speed and shows no sign of slowing. and i feel as if i'm working very hard to slow down my little slice of this world. what's more, a slower pace of life has almost become synonymous to some with a backwards and archaic modus operandi. the coasts of this great land speed ahead without considering what can be learned from anything less then light-speed. so here i am. in the midst of slower paced part of the country. trying to find my place.

i had two interviews today that couldn't have been more different. one with a woodworker that cared about detail and excellence, who saw his integrity as connected and reflective of his craftsmanship. moving only as fast as the work dictates, making sure that work is second to faith and family. quality above productivity.

the second was with a marketing firm, where if you weren't bettering business no matter what the cost and producing no matter the time it took, you were dead weight and not worth the breath it took to tell you. my head was spinning with the lightning-fast thoughts and retorts that it took to respond to the interviewers machine-gun questioning. pitting me blatantly against the others at that cattle call.

since Ford or the industrial revolution we have lauded productivity and the speed therein more than the skill of the working man, on which all of it was built. we streamline ourselves, to make more time for everything else. but if we lose our souls, our skills, our basic human understanding, what do we have left to spend our time on?

i'm scared that i'm in a squeeze. that the hunger and the need for money to make my little world keep turning, will inevitably force me to a place where i can't make the slow pace life work.

I want the freedom to provide for my future family without having to give up the pace of life that keeps me close to the earth, that keeps me close to people, and close to the things that really matter in the end.

new day, new life, new land, new post...

2008-10-13T09:02:00.000-05:00

i have landed. folded up the sail. tucked in the wings. put down the map and compass.

here i will stay, nest, and build a new life.

nashville, my terra incognita.

had a little bit of a lapse in strength and mental stability as the wave of newness washed over me. (all the ocean i'm gonna get now, is in metaphor...) i'm okay now, as this pulsing pulsing back and forth has brought me to a point of peace. sweet. and then bittersweet. back and forth, rocking me in my little boat. every hour, everyday i feel better, i'm getting my sea (life) legs. i'm finding my place. this is now my home.

i'm on the cusp of so much, and i can feel it. i'm at a bakery, to poor to buy bread, pretending that coffee is a meal, stealing internet. i'm about to take possession of my first apartment. one that is all mine (at least until april, when carly and i get married...). yet, i have nothing to furnish it with but camping supplies. it's a wonder that i can survive anywhere else but in the woods. i am not immediately suited for this city living...but i'm coming into it.

we were just in kentucky, enjoying the wedding of her sister. (a preview of things to come...) but now we have reached that place and time that has been anticipated for so long. even from the beginning, this point is where our future sight had been set. and now we are here. and the vision must now refocus. to all that is to come from here on out.

my spirit already aches for the open road and the wilds of open space. but i wonder if it's not to be trusted this time. perhaps it's not that old familiar wanderlust, but fear instead. fear of newness. fear of change. fear of failing.

so i'll do the harder thing and stay put and fight. for every inch and every interview. to make friends and a life. to find home here now, instead of in the ever elusive unknown.

i was told yesterday that we have only what God gives us and only in his timing. and i'm trying hard to live that.

stay with me on this journey...i need those close to me now more than ever...

wonderful silence

2008-05-24T11:09:00.000-05:00

so. the post you've all been waiting for.

SHE'S HERE!

quite the ongoing surreal experience. that only seems to be getting better, day after amazing-norcal-sunshine-day. yes. the love of my life arrived on the afternoon of wednesday. the last two days have been wonderful, and the excitement shows no sign of stopping (given the adventures we are about to depart on).

i remember driving to the airport to get her. i was sitting in traffic. it was strangely silent, even if only in my head. i was worrying if i was going to make it. when i really began to realize what was happening. i was about to step through a door, and nothing was ever going to be the same. but these are the doors we live for. metaphysical signposts that show us that we are in fact growing, moving forward to new and better places. there was that calm before it all. that realization.

and then, there she was, standing in the airport, laden with much luggage, existing between two lives, waiting for me to scoop her up and show her what this new home was like. that long-distance newness, (that feeling of missing someone, and being without them, only to after all that time, have them standing before you...), was beautifully sharp. but i was glad, though it's novelty felt good, to know that it was the last time i would experience those feelings in that way.

it was good. there is a time and season for everything after all. and let me tell you, that season is done done done. onto the newness of seeing each other every day. hmmm, that's good.

so, we drove back to Novato, brought her home to her little studio apartment that she can call all her own, and settled into, what felt like, the rest of our lives. she laughed at me when i told her this, and said that every day could be considered the 'rest of our lives'. i told her it was special that day. she smiled cause she knew what i meant. we sat in silence. wonderful silence.

we went out to Lagunitas last night to share a meal with and spend the evening with Galen, my spirit-connected-friend from long ago. his house in those beautiful redwoods has finally been finished. the creek, washing by, babbled with it's appreciation. nestled, quite literally, between the trees, we enjoyed good food, good wine (from a sweet jug!), a hot stove fire, and soft, heart-resonating music played so effortlessly by Galen. there was a silence out there, as my eyes became so heavy. i was being lulled. the serenity cut deep and calmed us all. there was no other world, there was only the musical silence captured between those four beautiful walls.

we are packing today, for the travels that we soon depart on. but right now, i'm trying hard to hold onto all that silence. take it with me, tuck it my shirt pocket, and let it carry me from one God-given-day to the next.

map obsessed

2008-05-17T11:24:00.000-05:00

maps. a wonderful resource. cartography, a ancient profession. both art and science. printed on paper. read and often poured over. yet, books, they are not.

they became increasingly necessary, only now to lose their value in these modern times. after our mayflowered forefathers wistfully (yet intentionally) were blown across the pond, the discovery of a new world, gave way to a great need for maps, of both high and low quality.

as the virgin grandure of america was explored, an interesting thing happened. men, mountain men, bold and nearly hewn from the very earth itself, came to be as important, if not more than the maps that showed where they had been. guides they became. they studied the world around them, not just following the written instructions of others, when it came time to move forward.

where have our modern guides gone?

i sat at the breakfast table this morning looking for an article or something to read. (it just seems right to have food, coffee, and something to read while passing those precious few morning minutes). there were no papers or magazines. but just beyond my coffee cup, alone on the vast empty table, was a map. a map of my little home town. i spread it open, and let the little roads wind around on the table. i let the parks and green spaces unfold and whisper promises of hikes and adventures. i laid it out, and began to traverse my familiar piece of the world in my mind.

how funny i must have looked, intently pouring over this map, detailed though it was, of a relatively inconsequential place in this big world. yet, there i was, lost and enraptured.

i have a confession. i'm kind of a map junkie. i love them. and not because i always want to know exactly where i am. but rather, to see the roads and the possibilities they represent. (i've even been known to, while driving those long stretches, to crack open that atlas and just wonder).

having a map is also an opportunity to look back and see where i've been. looking back. moving hundreds of miles an hour as i trace my finger across the lines. oh the places i can go, the things i can see in memory, as fingertips press the pages.

but i'm realizing something. all those maps are no good without the map in my head to go with it. at the end of the day, they are just papers with lines on them. the wide countryside, the beauty, the roads, are only meaningful in us.

the forests need no maps to tell them where they are. they only need us, in their midst. so, at the end of the day, all the maps and atlases in the world are nothing, if we do not learn from where we have been or have the foresight to see where we are going. if, after a bit, we cannot do away with the maps, we do not even deserve to have them.

i see more and more clearly where i have been, both on the road and through the years. i am looking to where i am going. and let me tell you, it's definitely uncharted territory. but, i'm finding that if i put down all the maps i've been given, and breathe deep the brisk air, i actually do know which way to go.

so, if you find my compass and maps, don't worry, we're finding our own way...

168 miles an hour

2008-05-15T03:17:00.000-05:00

i am nearing these awaited days. her coming and our leaving.

it's funny. the cycle of things. i find myself, again, anticipating the day in which i will take to the open road. leave the day to day worries behind.

it's like a spring. coiling round and round. from one view, life seems cyclical. round and round we go. from another, we see the upward movement we make. where we have come from and where we are going. round and round, up and up. ever progressing. ever circling.

there were so many days last summer, that i hated the road. the silent, singular wandering. i longed for the stability that i have found in her. i still do.

but, i see that old wanderlust differently than i once did. that the love of the pavement, the swiftly passing trees, and all the little things that seem like they only can exist 'on the road'. i find myself longing to feel it all again. but not in the same way as before. but with her this time.

almost as if having her in the car, as we traverse the roads i have come to know and love, will seal them up behind me. sew up the fabric of that old man i used to be. draw the line in the sand, the rolling countryside, between once was and what is present and future. i want to trace that line one last time, just as i did before.

how do we measure things. how can you place a price or a value on open air. or matchless time spent with the love of my life. people ask me how i can afford to travel, to volunteer, to turn my cell phone off.

how can we afford to do anything. by focusing, while we do the work of our hands, on all those things that will redeem the time, and cannot be paid for any other way.

i figured it out the other day. every hour that i work right now, i can travel 168 miles in my car with my lady at my side. every hour that i work now, i can buy a piece of the future that i want.

there is a strange and wonderful lull that sweeps over me even now as i write. for in a week she will be here. and our time of being apart will come to a silent end. we will come and we will go. but we will do it all together.

everything is about to never be the same. everything is about to be better than i've ever expected.

saturday mornings

2008-05-10T11:44:00.000-05:00

(setting the scene: i'm listening to the 'Juno' soundtrack...amazing indie epicness)

so. i have my cup of coffee. 'Major Dickason's Blend'. it's pretty good, but the name makes it awesome. i know i might be letting the cat out of the bag here, but i will confess that occasionally (most all the time) i purchase items (coffee, wine, etc.) based on the name. or the label. yes i know. a haphazard and potentially foolish way to make culinary decisions. but i have to tell you. more often than not, i'm quite pleased. my three favorite wines were all purchased based on their cool names/labels.

so i've gotten off track. surprise surprise.

i woke up this morn around 8. early by some standards, late by others. but i venture that on any old saturday morning, 8 is on the early side of things. after all, we work all week, waking in those morning weekday hours. most people are looking forward to saturday just to have a break, a rest, a chance to 'sleep in'.

in fact, i think that we spend a great portion of our lives anticipating saturday.

it's funny, though, our sleep cycles in connection with saturdays. i have three memories of saturdays, including today. each a different time in life.

the first fond memory i have of the idea of 'saturday morning' was when i was a little kid. no more than 5 or 6. saturday morning represented autonomy, freedom, and relaxation. (actually, i think that's what it's always been about, just seen differently...) the parents would sleep in a bit more than usual. i would wake up early, though. 6am. head out to the living room. saturday morning cartoons awaited. a small plastic bowl of Kix or Crispix. a little dry cereal and some G.I.Joe and i was a happy camper. it was my time, before i fully understood how great that fact was.

second memory being that of a lazy teenager. seemed as though i could never get enough sleep. and saturday represented the one day where i could give myself fully over to that need. and quite literally sleep away the day. freedom was found in sleep and dreams and not having to go to school.

today, i remark, i have come full circle. in some ways, i guess. now, at almost 27, i cannot sleep for hours upon hours, like my teenage self. no, now, i get a headache if i sleep past 9am. but i don't usually get there on a saturday morning. now, it's up early cause there is much to always be done. stuff that seems to be impossible to accomplish during the week. now, i wake early to be productive. or at least attempt productivity.

we are always pushing toward saturday. we work for the chance to do what we want on saturday. we are always seeking that freedom.

and eventually, when i have a family. i will strive for saturday so that my son can have his autonomy, freedom and quietly eat his dry cereal.

intersections and infusions

2008-05-05T12:14:00.000-05:00

alright, alright, alright. i'm in trouble. i have become slack. there is no one to apologize to, and none will be enough to satisfy the guilt in my head. this digital journal is as much a taskmaster as it is a welcome reprieve. (i think that 'reprieve' might be one of my favorite words. that and 'ache'. but i digress...)

here i am, though.

funny thing, i've been in Novato for weeks and have not penned a single word. have taken yesterday, today and tomorrow off to drive down to SB for my own version of a weekend. inevitably, something about movement, for me, stirs those creative juices and calls me to write. something about getting outside of my norm. the final ingredient. the necessary catalyst.

truthfully, i know not who follows me or cares to read this. i write blindly into the abyss of ones and zeros. for myself. to keep a record of where i've been. for a wonderful peace of mind that can only come from written accomplishment.

but it was jonathan hicks, old friend, who tongue-in-cheek, indited me for losing my resolve.

so here i am. resolved. resolving. chalk full of resolve. that is until i lose my way again. bear with me, my friends. i am but a wayward, distracted storyteller. shiny objects and a certain beautiful woman are my obvious weaknesses.

i'm down in SB for Mr Casey Caldwell's bachelor party. festivities and general, albeit mild, revelry will ensue following the completion of this post. (a raise of hands for those that thought that was unnecessarily wordy...)

for those of you that haven't heard, my beautiful and talented girlfriend has conquered the beast we came to know as Architecture School. diploma in hand, adorned in stoles and cords, she walked out of that strange life, and into the wide world that i have become so optimistic about.

eminently, she joins me and my conflicted thoughts about California, in this ever-beloved state that i have grown up in. leaving worry (and mississippi) behind, we will finally be together in this long awaited summer. road trips to Montana and Hopi-land, AZ. family camping. stolen afternoons. quiet nights. lazy saturday mornings with the fam. but above all else, the incredibly appealing, desperately normal, day to day that has been absent. the final two week (or so) countdown is here.

there is definitely the feeling of convergence. intersections of life. some are exciting, some daunting. much is happening. the world feels slightly technicolor alive. some mysterious infusion of energy. there is a buzz, a hum. you just need to roll the window down and listen...

threads...

2008-04-15T22:41:00.000-05:00

i sometimes don't write. i try and add up the events of the day and, often, when they don't add up to some measurable sum, some noticeable thread, i discard the day as not worth blogging about.

i am wrong. yet, you know how i love to spin the events and stories like they are all independent, and then in a moments notice, at the end, tie them all up with a succinct finish, leaving you to ponder the paths and intersections of life.

threads. i'm obsessed with them. how does it all connect? life has to be more than just events in a line. there must be deeper meaning that connects them all. personality, often is the common piece, as we (i) look at the world. perhaps, it's the liberal arts education in me, striving toward interdisciplinary thought and understanding.

i think i might fear being that person that just lives. that just reacts to life. instead of seeing life for as it really is. or working hard on not making the same mistakes twice. or trying to see god's plan in all of this. or hoping that my views and commentary on the subjects will somehow show me my indelible mark that i have left and then accidentally (not accidentally) i will become the common thread in it all.

i told myself i was just going to write down the events of the day (last few days) and not try and tie it all up. i told myself, just tell the story and let it speak for itself. i thought i would allow the tie, the thread to just find itself without my unnecessary help. i guess i couldn't help myself but comment on the commentary. how meta-conversational of myself. upper-echelon thinking or narcissism, you decide.

i think that i'll just lay it out. just explain some highlights as they happened. no commentary.

- built and destructed a ziggurat in a weekend's time.
- enjoyed the ephemeral irony of sharpie tattoos on my arm, courtesy of a angel of redemption history iii.
- offered help and food to a hitch-hiker, but it wasn't quite the way he wanted it (i guess beggars can be choosers).
- ate some chocolate cookies, and liked them a lot. (very, very abnormal for me).
- began planning my summer traveling.
- told myself i was going to write more.

where's the thread? you tell me. i just keep writing and see where we go...

two lives, one future.

2008-04-12T04:10:00.000-05:00

drove today. trekked back to SB for the weekend. a show is being put on by my friend Zak and he has called in the winds from the four corners. it feels good to be part of a larger whole. working toward a greater good. in this piece, as we worked today, it really did seem like the the big picture really was going to be greater than the sum of all of us. Redemption History III. kind of amazed that it's actually happening. feels like not that long ago when he was hatching this scheme and pulling me in and along. (i just turned out to be a willing abettor in this three part, three year saga.)

i'm feeling somehow behind in the midst of all this life. feeling like there's always more to do than the hours in the day permit. funny how that is. life has taken over again, and i've forgotten to stop for minutes here and there. i tell myself every so often, (usually when i've escaped the world for short time and really find the peace, the center, my center) that i'm not going to let life get to me. that i'm somehow going to be different and take time for all those things. all those goals, projects, dreams. but, slow and pervasive, the hectic nature of things, creeps. fills the nooks and crannies of my time. saps my energy. wake, eat, work, shower, eat, sit down. all of the sudden, the night is pressing in, my bed is calling, and my leaded-eyes are fighting me.

but oh, the summer. how the summer months have always been my reprieve. pack the car, test the wind, kick the tires. the carefree life of the open road, though inherently irresponsible and destined to be a young man's memory, always has that knack for giving me the perspective that i need.

(strange. it seems like i've been posting a lot lately about the ideas of home. essentially the permanence of home, and my own ideas of settling. but here i am, how naturally it feels to pen these thoughts, back at the musings on the road-life. some things, i think, will always bleed through, no matter how you may distill a man.)

this summer, as i have said, will be different. not different like all the others have been different from themselves. but different in a way that i cannot understand until i live it out. this summer, both a figurative and literal time, is the fusing of two existences. back on the road, but taking my girl (who so much of my ideas of home are wrapped up in) along with me. carefree lifestyle, but ostensible thoughts of the future. where i've come from, where i'm going.

i have to say, that truly, this adventure gets better and better each day. there's a cool breeze blowing north, the big sky is beckoning. there's a beautiful girl in a sun-dress sitting in the passenger set, big sunglasses and sun-blonde hair. if you want to find me, i'll have the window down and a big smile on my face...

another day covered in sawdust...

2008-04-07T21:11:00.000-05:00

just another monday. except there was biscuits and gravy for breakfast this morn. that was nice.

i find that i no more want to get out of bed on a monday morning than the next guy. but truthfully, i value the time before the 'day' begins. breakfast. newspaper and/or book. coffee. a few moments before the wheels touch down and the world starts spinning. i think that I might need those precious minutes even more on a monday than any of the other days.

working on the family home. the Conrad house. 14 Robinhood Drive. managed to get covered in sawdust, dirt, paint, mortar, and various chemicals today. *sigh. (note: do not get wood bleach on your hands, fingers, or any thing else. it burns. BURNS. and should only be used on helpless wood. acutally, i take that back. do not even buy the stuff. if you need to bleach some wood, well, you're out of luck.)

i like working with my father. it reminds me that i don't always need to work so fast. and reminds me that working, with the right people, doesn't have to feel like work. and that working towards a goal that you own, makes a day's labor sink into your bones, creating that happy-worn-out-bliss that puts an almost sedated smile on your face when you finally sit down at night.

there was talk of building future houses and homes. i spark at the dreams of homesteading (or at least the modern version of it). i hope to draw friends and family around and lay many a hand on my future home. i can only hope to live a long and full life in that place. see my children grown, and watch them as they embark on their own journeys. i can only hope to love one place as much as i have seen my family love and care for this place i've called home.

the time draws ever closer when we all will leave this house for good. returning only to drive by, nostalgia tears held back. as we prepare the house for it's next life, i steal quiet times to dream big-future dreams.

caught between

2008-04-01T10:30:00.000-05:00

so. some good news on the 'future-home-front'.

as you may or may not know, i am on the move. some of you may say that's my natural state, but i beg a re-examination. just perhaps, i have been on the move, road-weary, in an attempt to find a harmony, to find a home. (see previous posts...hehe) perhaps, i didn't know how to do anything else until recently. no matter. i digress...

my recent exit from sunny santa barbara has begun the Great Journey of '08. a change in life and in locale. I will take the next 6 months, as of today, to circuitously traverse the road to my new and future home, Nashville. long before i pack all i own in 'crushed velvet', my new and more trusty steed, i will be spending the summer months, more or less, in my original stomping ground, marin county, and my quaint hometown novato. not to say i won't be visiting places new and old, unfamiliar and be-loved.

for now, the house i grew up in, the house my father built, the house on robinhood drive, will be my place to launch from and take respite in.

i will be heading back to the promised land: montana. i will be seeking new memories on the high mesas of hopiland, az. i will hike the golden state lands, from whence i came, in hopes i can capture it before i leave it. and as planned, i am hoping to do this all with my lovely lady.

i thought that this summer was going to be different than the last three. summers '05, '06, '07: journeys of the formation of self. i thought that this fated summer '08 would be a pale comparison. but as i write, i realize that i could have not been more wrong. yes, life has turned out to be quite wonderful.

so. about that news i spoke about. well, news of a design/fabrication firm in Nashville has found it's way to my ears. a place where the blue and white collar meet. where the artistic mind is found in league with the tradesmen's hands. perhaps, it is a place where i might find a home. we'll see.

my friends. i am straining, but in all this talk of journeys, i see a fate unfolding. i seek the strength to continue to trust and press on. and i pray that i have the ability to tell this story well...

home re-discovered, continually re-defined...

2008-03-25T23:09:00.000-05:00

the name of this place is CUPS. the state that i am in is Mississippi. by all objective views, i could not be in a more foreign land. (though my memories of other continents remind me that there is always somewhere further off than this place.) yet. yet, i find that i am more at home than i have ever been.

ah, and here we are back at the idea of home.

she and i sat on the couch today. we went to the store. we ate lunch. we did many 'normal' things that people take for granted, until you can't do them together. i think back to the internal discussion i had with myself about what makes up a home. i'm finding the idea expanding and filling out the spaces.

it may be simplistic, but i boldly say it anyways: home is where she is. here, let me say it better to try and redeem the potential cliche-ness of the last sentence. it is the little seemingly inconsequential moments all strung together with her that make this life good, that makes home a floating fluid concept that is found more in relation to a person than a place.

as a tried and true, born and bred, to the core Westerner, i take pride in self-knowledge. i sought myself, i sought direction, i, effectively, sought after meaning and fate. but, you've heard me say, that i wasn't looking for Her, when i found her. and, incidentally, i found much more. i found myself, or at least who i'm becoming, or who i am trying to be. i found direction, a clear needled bearing. it is in no particular heading, toward many a goal, but in every snapshot, it is with her. only in relation to her, have i begun to truly see myself.

if you can find me, i might be a bit more quiet. i might have a glimmer-peace in the eyes. if you can find me, i'd love to tell you the story of how i made my way home...

i leave the familiar far behind

2008-03-21T01:52:00.000-05:00

so. here we are again. the promise of adventure and the complete lack of sure things has caused me to seek solace in this blog.

funny. i remember so clearly, as if it was yesterday, packing up my things over ten months ago and driving up the 101 to stay with my parents for a night. I wrote my first blog entry to begin that adventure, here in this very same room. it was the beginning of my most recent roadtrip, and how was i to know, the proverbial eve before my life forever changed.

today was a fateful day. for today, i left my home, that i really didn't call my home, to return home to my childhood home, which, ostensibly, isn't my home anymore, only to fly tomorrow to be with the one person that feels more like home than anything else in my world today. (sigh)

i was adamant for many of the last years while living in SB, that it was, in fact, not my home, that i didn't have one, or at least not a real one like the one i had loved and grown up in. i called myself a vagabond. a man in continual transition. "i could leave at any moment", i would say, mantra-esque. i prided myself with having no more stuff than i needed, and being able to more or less fit it all in my car. i loved to be mobile. yet, i always returned to SB, like a Siryn by the sea, it was.

what constitutes a home?

She and i have spoken hushed words to each other. (they find their mark true as it beats). the quiet moments when i see that home is no longer a place but a person.

but that doesn't mean that when i pulled away from ol' Santa Barbara today, that i did not feel the pangs of leaving home. why?

I began to think of all the one way streets, knowing their comings and goings. to think of the best indie-dive bar, where only cash is taken, and only good beer is given. to think of that little hole-in-the-wall joint that makes better mexican tacos than i've had in mexico. to think of the 4 different side streets and back roads i could take to get to one place. to think of a familiar stretch of freeway that i could almost drive asleep (lord knows i've tried...)

the friends, the 'families' that we create. all of it.

look no further. those 'everyday' things that come and go. those are what constitute a home.

so. i said goodbye. no tears, just a sweaty brow and a brimming american-made car. just a handful of stuff and a ton of memories.

i am off to start a very new chapter, and this book's just getting good...

commune -ique

2007-08-21T15:17:00.000-05:00

simply. communication is a funny thing.

not funny 'haha' (though i can be), but still 'funny' in some way. not quite sure where i'm going with this, but we'll see...

at the heart of communication is communing. right? the coming together of two or more people. (can you communicate with yourself. keep an open dialogue, find better perspective through it. huh. i don't know. not what i'm getting at.) communication is not the trading or passing of information, like i think that our society/culture would have us believe. words, whether written or spoken. actions, too. indirect and directly affecting actions.

the information age, yes? age of mass communication, yes? but are we finding the root. are we actually communing, though.

when i think of the word communing, i gather a mental image (always silent) of two people sitting close. flesh, energy, and other unknowable things pass between them, in this dream. like hands (not hands) moving back and forth between. give and take. equality.

we talk talk talk so much. but what do we actually convey. we do do do (mostly inward focused), but do we allow ourselves to truly connect or be connected to.

in previous days, (long previous days...), when you wanted to communicate, you had to walk up to a person and speak to them. give or leave them a gift. write thoughts and feelings and words on pages and give/send them.

i now find myself changing. focusing less inward and more outward. towards a specific someone, albeit. a daily renewed desire to commune heavily weighs on me. it is not a burden, but rather a calling.

i desire to commune with her. daily. hourly. in more and less words.

i fancy myself a wordsmith sometimes (and a thoughtsmith at times as well...). but i'm finding that with this renewed desire to deeply commune, i'm having to re-examine what true communication is all about. in some senses, i'm having to re-invent my own usage of words and thoughts. i must emply new tactics, for this new desire.

thankfully i will not labor forever. i have a hope in a time after this life, where true communion will be found. where all may share intimately in HIM and in one another.

but for now, for me and for her, i will continue in my strivings...

and end & a beginning...

2007-08-20T16:02:00.000-05:00

friends.

i did not know if i would bleed this blog into my 'normal' life after returning from the edge and the road. it seems as though the adventure has not ended. i prescribed a set period of time to experience adventure, and i have been blown away and over-abundantly blessed in it's continuance.

i suppose i was narrow-scoped and foolish to limit my view on adventure to a 'nether-time'. to say that it could only be had, on the road, or on the edge. truth be told, it's not about having it, it's about finding it.

looking in every crevice and around every corner. 'experience the rich ache of daily life', i once wrote. 'normal life' or 'normalcy' is only one's (my) inability to properly see. accepting normalcy is essentially a self-blinding. overlooking all the the Father and the fates have to offer.

so, i left you all. and i was full of hope...

things have not changed and i have not fallen off that covered wagon. i remain hopeful and so much more. i am returning/returned to SB and am starting/re-starting my life. ending this chapter. perhaps beginning a mini-chapter. perhaps just preparing for the next chapter that I have glimpsed and is upon me.

if i have seen/spoken to you at all, you know that things are different now. my world now includes a woman, and how wonderful it is to pour time into her and us. she is my world. plain and simply. how quickly love changes us/me.

so for the next 9 months i plan on soaking it all up. the sun, the sailing, the weather, the friends, the church, the time.

come along with me. on this page, or standing next to me.

adventure awaits...

from whence i have come...

2007-07-25T02:39:00.000-05:00

out of the forest (quite literally) and back onto the grid.

today is my father's birthday.

today i am a mere three days shy of being 'on the road' for two long months. i think i had an inkling that these months were going to be long. as the days passed, the time away from anything i've called home seemed to strech on like the midwest horizon. i found small pieces, little places of 'home' along my way. Seattle. Plymouth. Nashville. Ft Collins. that was good.

today i drove from southern oregon straight to my parent's house, in lovely-golden-brown-hilled NorCal. by the by, it's really hot up in northern northern california right now. as i crested the last hills before i dropped down into the valleys that comprise the 'north bay area', i felt the cool coastal air nip softly at my arm as it hung out the window. the air was a sure sign that i had returned to the land of my fathers. but with it, i know comes so much more. that the life i know outside of traveling along america's roads on the roving winds, that state of living that I guess i would call my life, would once again be mine to inhabit and partake in.

but things are different. irevocablly different. any substantial time alone; traveling great distances; traveling at all; partaking in something outside of yourself; seeing life outside of yourself; meeting someone special; these things change you. they have all happened to me in the last two months. i have changed.

i have fed my wanderlust. i have floated on the winds up the coast, seen the Big Sky, and traversed the wide plains. i have sat quietly beside a beautiful woman. i have grown weary of the road, and have chased the sun westward as far as i can.

another year lays just ahead. i cannot get there by car. i cannot and will not walk there alone.

i am full of hope...

road poetry a.k.a. 'roadetry'

2007-07-17T14:53:00.000-05:00

set out across the high desert of eastern oregon. thought i was going to dread each bleak and far stretching mile. but not the case today. no, today was cool air, desolate beauty, thoughts of a lady elsewhere, and great music. iron & wine. doug martsch.

over 200 miles passed as quick as i can write it. it might have helped that i pounded three red bulls at 8:30am. but who's to know these things. the landscape and the quiet begged me to write. so i grabbed the little notebook and steered with my knee.

it was fruitful. i shall part with those words. but first, i'm going to be going off the grid again. this time i'll be camping with my family in southern oregon. it's been close to eight years since we've done this. i'll try to jack in at some point in the week, but who's to know these hings. i'll be back in Novato before the month is over.

as i draw nearer to the end of this road trip, i'm filled more and more with mixed feelings. peace and calm, like i've done what i've set out to do. excitement, for the next chapter in my life. saddness, ostensibly, as this time of unbridled freedom comes to a close.

i have begun age 26 with a bang, an adventure, and a new little lady. i could not ask for anything more.

i'll see you all soon...

----------------

'heading west'

a tiny speck under an open sky
floating along on this black swath.
the air rushes
in the window to flood my nostrils.

i am a dust man,
formed of that same earth
i so silently pass over.

the sun and powerlines
give me direction.
the clouds
-chaotic in majesty-
gently urge me on.
the mountains
simply ignore me,
my time with them is but a breath.

i speed to
and crest each horizon
full of wind-teary-eyed anticipation.

yet i only find
more hills and peaks
bekoning me to come
and see what lays beyond
their heights.

so, i breathe
and press forward,
cutting my own furrow,
forging across this open land.

i think on a love
and other meadowed valleys
i've left behind
-but not forgotten.

i head west
to chase the sun
and a future that lies ahead
and unknown.

fortune on the high desert

2007-07-17T09:14:00.000-05:00

so we left our hero sitting in his car on the edge of the unknown. with no clear prospects of camping, he pushes on. darkness pervading, eyes getting heavier with each black and lonely mile.

it’s nigh on midnight now. i pass a dirt road in the darkness and then another. damn, it’s dark. my headlights are losing the battle. the peterbilts are barreling and will not allow me to slow at all. i’m falling asleep, and no amount of loud music is helping.

i let the semi pass and for a moment i am alone under the dark wyoming sky. i vow to take the next dirt road, no matter where it leads, and look for a place to bed down. a slight screech of tires as i almost miss the tiny brown path that deviates from the blacktop. the ‘dirt’ road is more rocks than dirt and my car is begging me to go slow. it curves from left to right until i no long no which way is which. up and over a small hill, tells me it’s time to stop. i can no longer see the string of red and white lights that pepper the night highway.

rabbits and prairie dogs dart across the road from one sagebrush to another. as if one side is better. a slice of prairie grass along the road looks flat. here i will make my home.

first the tarp, then the pad, finally the sleeping bag. lantern and knife within arms length. i ‘mark’ my territory for good measure. the ground is surprisingly comfortable, either that or i am really tired. with no lights, civilization, or anything around, it’s just me and the stars. i don’t even think the moon was there for company. whispering a silent prayer of thanks for my spot, i drift off.

morning comes quick. i wake before the sun has peaked above the hills. i stand barely clad, and look around at the bleak beauty and sunrising colors that stretch before me. i love my life.

drove across all of idaho. honestly not much to see. just stayed the night across the oregon border, in ontario. 9 hours of driving lay ahead of me. oh yeah, and my trunk broke this morn. "it's okay, we didn't need that part anyway, she'll fly without it."

i'll be back in that old familiar Pacific time zone again before i know it. unfortunately that puts me two hours from my girl, and many miles from Montana, the promised land.

oh, california, how i love and hate thee.

but, before i get ahead of myself...three cheers for Oregon...

good will in the mountains

2007-07-15T22:46:00.000-05:00

i am in green river, wyoming right now. my computer is busted and i can't lift the screen more than 3 inches. typing with my hands on the keys and the screen on top of my hands. absolutly stupid. but as a reciever of many free things, (cars, computers) i must not complain too much.

i'm sitting behind a ghetto liquor store in the darkness of my car and the shadows, stealing internet and drinking a cool but not cold beer. my plans to 'just camp somewhere in southwestern wyoming' have blown up in my face. no campgrounds, and no national forest. no trees anywhere actually, just rocks and shrubery. so as i write this, i don't quite yet know what i'm going to do, but, ah well, this is what it's all about right?

yesterday i was outside colorado springs with an uncle and aunt. i had some friends that i knew lived in northern CO, but i never called them in the planning phases of this trip. i cold called them from a pay phone in the mountains (this is after i asked a stranger to borrow his cell so that i could make another call...didn't have the heart to make two). i tell them i'm coming through and would love to stop for a few minutes and say hello. long story short, their hospitality abounded and i stayed till today.

twice yesterday i banked on the good will of my fellow man, and it paid off richly. Let us also say this: Ft Collins, CO is my new favorite place. instant friends, micro brewed beers to the hilt, sweet church this morn, and mountain high beauty. i can ask for little more.

i am becoming road weary. i miss my girl terribly. the time is drawing nearer to hang up the keys and the wanderlust for a while. i need to be a home body for a bit.

alright, with any luck, i won't have to sleep by the side of the road. next stop, OREGON...

chasing the sun...

2007-07-14T13:36:00.000-05:00

so i'm heading west now. i will not spend a great deal of time lamenting that I have not written. in my defense, i will say that it is because i have been living in a fantasy world, enraptured by a woman. and i wouldn't trade a minute of it...

yes, there is a girl...

i drove across missiouri and kansas yesterday and the day before. it is a wasteland of nothingness out there. i had very little to keep me going, save for the promise of the cool crisp air of the mountain country and the northern states.

i came to an epiphany yesterday while driving. i am feeling the road tripping bug slowly being worked out of my system. alone on the road is losing its romanticism. i don't think that i'll back out alone. alone on the road of life is losing its romanticism as well.

i know. we'd never thought we'd see the day, but this 'confirmed bechelor' is tiring of his rambling ways.

i will be spending the next few days treking to southern oregon to meet up with the family for a week of camping. so freakin excited. after that, will return to the california north to work and road-detox.

the road, it would seem, has beaten me up a bit more than i thought it would.

perhaps i'm just feeling lost without her by my side...

back from the wild...

2007-06-30T09:31:00.001-05:00

so i'm back on the map (though still not quite on the grid).

hello my friends, i've missed you all.

I am stealing internet from some business south of Chicago on my way to michigan. got up real early after camping in southeast iowa last night and got back on the road. please FORGIVE me for neglecting to write, as i have been back in civilization since monday. there was this overwhelming feeling like i need to write epicly about my time. each day that past, it became more difficult to write. alas.

i need to write more and speak of my times and adventures on the Indian Reservation as well of my short stay in middle-of-nowhere, Nebraska.

I think that over the next few posts, i shall write "flashback-postludes" and relate my recent adventures in that manner.

my head is swirling with the events of the past few weeks.

God grant me the serenity to spins these yarns...

big sky and spirits high...

2007-06-09T12:58:00.000-05:00

well, that was a nightmare. long story short, they patched up my horse. my wallet’s a little lighter now. and by little, I mean a lot.

got back on the road. much relieved. little bummed about the money spent, but glad to be freewheelin again.

the Montana mountain heights brought me right back. feeling good in the saddle. as if with each turn or peak, I left the days previous fiasco further and father behind.

spent the night at my Uncle Phil’s. old-school ramblin man. we understand each other. he’s seen it all and been through the shit. I think he’s one of my main reasons I’m obsessed with Montana, beloved state. he recently came back to Christ after years and years. my heart and so many others, prayed for this and now rejoice with our Father in heaven.

bit of time for some bacon and eggs. black coffee. bit of time to swap a few stories. then is back to the road. last stretch before the Rez. pickin up a red feather friend in billings. I can only wonder what lies ahead for me in these next two weeks. pray that I may be a good witness.

and as always, think fondly of me in my absence…

houston, we have a problem...

2007-06-07T10:33:00.000-05:00

okay. so i guess i'm not quite ready to go radio silent. yesterday, after leaving seattle, i didn't quite make it across the state before things went sour. and boy, the acidity is running high.

for all of you map people out there, i got as far as Lind, WA on the i-90. poor little blue car, was kickin and feeling like she wasn't even going to make it the 20miles to the next town, ritzville. i pulled off under much duress at the crossroads of highway 21 and the i-90. i found a little spot to park and check it out. she never started back up. shit. i'm in the middle of nowhere. wheatfields and crazy-strong high winds. rolling hills as far as i could see. no civilization. shit.

walked a bit. found some roadside workers. asked them for oil (which i thought might be the problem). they barely acknowledged me. flagged down the next car i saw. nice lady. felt sorry for me. she took me to podunk washington, also known as Lind, WA. told be that lind was famous for the 'combine demolition derby' which happens to be on friday. told me i should go see it, since i was broken down. i declined politly. then she told be all about the plight of the western washington farmer and the wheat fields. actually very interesting.

arrived in lind. went to the only mom & pop market (to which she called ahead to make sure they had motor oil). went to buy, but they only take cash. went in search of atm. got lost. the nice lady, Denise, drives around looking for me. finds me. i get cash, i get motor oil. we drive back to my car. long story short, the oil is not the problem or the solution. shit.

she stays with me. we call one of the nearest towns that i can get towed to and fixed up. it's 45miles in the wrong direction: west. at this point, my heart is sinking lower and lower into my chest until i think it fell out by the side of the road. if i get this car running again, i need to go back and find it.

$180 dollars later, i'm being towed back to Moses Lake, WA to a toyota dealer. i say goodbye to denise, my 'middle of nowhere angel'.

the towtruck driver tells me about some of the motels near the dealership. they all cost a million dollars to rent a room, and all i can think about is how much money i'm going to have to spend to even get back on the road. if i even can. i decide to stay up all night. bad idea. i decide to not eat at a resturaunt cause it's expensive. bad idea.

i'm slinging my satchel of justice and wearing my communist hat. i'm set. i'm kickin about, looking like a destitue vagabond (cause i am one). young guy with giant truck sees me and asks me if i need a ride somewhere. he and his buddy take me to town. we have a cig. go to safeway and buy can of soup and 24oz beer. hitch a ride back to the freeway where there's some 24hr diners. found a truckers lounge in the back of some gas station. heat and eat my soup, drink my beer in little back room. truckers come in and out. i say nothing. i fall in and out of sleep. it's midnight.

i decide to get out of there and find some bushes or some shadows to lie down in. i find an abandoned building. i bed down for a couple hours on the concrete next to the building. wishing i had some newspaper to put over me. feeling a bit like Kerouac, but not getting much sleep. give up the ground at about 3ish. head to 'shari's diner' to finish out the night.

nice waitress. i ask her to tuck me back in some back corner. she gives me coffee and let's me sleep. it's 5 when i wake. she gives me more coffee and her bleary night shift eyes pity me. she rustles me up some corned beef hash and eggs at my request. i thank her. she tells me the coffee is on her. it's already a bit light out by 5 though there's no sun yet. i eat a real roadhouse meal and read about Wild Bill Cody. i love the old west.

at 6, i trudge the mile back to my car at the dealership to sleep some more and wait for them to open at 7:30. they're looking at blue car right now, unknowingly deciding the fate of my road trip. best case, i'm back on the road, minus 3 to 4 hundred dollars. ouch. worst case, i have to leave the car. hitch it to montana maybe. maybe just cry in a ditch for a bit. i don't know.

i gotta say, you just can't make up stories like this. and truth be told, road trips wouldn't be the same without some issues along the way. i'm just hoping it ain't over before it's begun.

i'll drop a last note before i hit the Rez...

radio silence.

2007-06-06T12:05:00.000-05:00

i'm leaving the comforts of seattle. with both gone to work, i'm saying goodbye to the couch and the kitchen at my sister and brother-in-law's apartment. my time here has been...well, let's say that sharing in the life of people you love, is what makes us feel human. new friends, Mike and Sarah. old card games of canasta. even got a couple games of beach volleyball in (i know what you're saying. i don't play much beach in SB, and now that i'm in seattle....i know....) but with some eggs in my belly, it's time to keep moving.

time: morning.
weather: cloudy, cold, yet squintingly bright.
disposition: furrowed brow, open heart.

trusty box camera: check.
now, slightly worn atlas: check.
oil lantern: check. (oh yeah.)
my spirit longing for the forest: check, check.

okay. i guess i'm ready. this is it. after this, i'm truly off the grid until late june. i'll be writing old fashioned letters if i can. pray for me. think fondly of me.

know that, despite my absence, you all remain close to my heart.

michael, signing off.

bury my heart in the northwest....

2007-06-03T23:11:00.000-05:00

i am somewhere caught. caught between worlds. between thoughts. this trip, i'm realizing, is magnifying my increasing tenuous place in life. i am found, lying on the ground, between satisfaction and anxiety.

i spent friday with a dear friend in portland. we parused Powells. a portland-bibliophile's absolute must. didn't buy anyting, surprisingly. s'ok. don't really have the money to spend, and i brought like 5 books that i haven't read. we sipped pressed java. french pressed coffee is somehow superior. we smoked and squinted in the sun. we fed our parking meters. though, we looked, no deli could be found. settled for pub food and a pint. took a picture of the sun, the trees, and the bricks. talked about the future. said wonderfully awkward, prolonged goodbyes.

when i got to my sister's, my brother-in-law, patrick asked me what i wanted to do while i was here. didn't know what to say. what do you do on a trip with no plans or schedules. let the things happen to you, i guess. met up later with friends to BBQ and tip back more than my fair share of beer. laughed. appreciated good company. made a fire in the back yard. appreciated good fire. happily sucked on beer number 6 or 7. appreciated good beer.

woke up early today with a response to the previously unanswered question. appreciate. that's what i want to be doing while i'm 'here'. and all the other stops along the road. which brings me back to my initial problem.

i think on the future. distant and near. i wonder what i'm doing, and how long i can keep it up. i wonder what the next chapter looks like. or if there are even chapters at all.

there is a wolf inside me that is hungry with wanderlust. i stave him off for months, and feed him in the summers. today he is satisfied. i wonder about tomorrow.

oh, and though it's been hot here, it rained this eve. i guess it would be Seattle if it didn't.

tomorrow, i'm going to find a oil lantern. and go to a history museum. mmm, i love history.

off the grid...

2007-06-01T03:20:00.000-05:00

i gotta say. i don't know what it is about that magical line that divides CA from OR. but it felt like the second i crossed it, i was renewed. i'll never get tired of driving those roads in southwestern oregon. with cali behind me, the old leash (most people call them cell phones) got turned off and stuffed to the back of the glove box, which of course, holds no gloves.

with a smile that wouldn't leave, i traversed lower oregon, stopping from time to time to snap a shot with my trusty box camera. napped in the shade by the side of the road. spent too much time buried in the atlas, while driving (arg!). wrote a bit of poetry. somthing that, i hate to say, but, i don't do enough these days. but sure-as-shootin (that wasn't as nearly as fun to write as it is to say), put me in the woods on a summer day and i'm bound to tear up slightly and want to write poetry.

before i leave you with the poem.

a few other things that happened today. almost ran out of gas, again. got lost twice (not really lost, just didn't know where i was). a guy asked me if i was a carpenter, because of the reality sticker on my car...lucky guess. sang really loud in the car. talked about old cameras and building log houses with a 91 yr old grampa. spry guy for 91. drove a tractor. admired a full moon (a blue moon actually). and listened to a sad-sweet irish tune on an old fiddle.

it was a good day.

but this poem sums today's drive better...

==================

the hills and valleys
rise and fall
in a simple comforting rhythm
like ocean waves
imitated in green

i slide through on these paved paths
as if i was walking on mountain water,
rocky and treed

i cannot find a shred of sadness
in this clear blue air
for the breeze only brings a smile
even in my solitude

these roads, now familiar trails,
whisper their surrounding beauty

and like old friends we sit together
in silence
watching the world fly by

diners and families...

2007-05-31T10:40:00.000-05:00

a diner. lulu’s café. unknown redding locale. 730am. oh yes, I’m the only one in the diner. dark purple leather bound boothes. and, yes, the ‘older’ waitress is talking my ear off about this and that. even though I’m a bit bleary-eyed, the glinting-windowed sun and the shitty diner coffee are making it all perfect in the only way that it can be. oh yeah, and I’m having greasy-good corned-beef hash and eggs. yum.

how funny families are. with their twists and turns and dark corner pockets.

I call my cousin denise up three weeks ago, who I haven’t seen in ten years, and ask her if I can crash at her place for the night on my way up north. we exchange pleasantries for a minute. realizing our lives are nothing alike, the silence is nice but awkward. she says, ‘I have two kids now’. I knew this, but with both of us at 25, it’s strange.

yet, the ‘family factor’, warmed us up from the get go, and we talked like old friends. who live different lives. who’ve never known each other as adults. (but you get the idea). the boys are three and one. a handful. their dad’s in prison, and his brother, who was helping, is now also in prison. let’s just say that they really discriminate against the Indians up here in norcal (that’s feather, not dot.)

so, I fell into stride, believe it or not, playing mr mom/cousin/babysitter. she doesn’t cook (what?), so I suggested we go to the store and get some grub. flash-forward. I’m holding the little one in my left arm, keeping the fridge closed with my foot, so the older one won’t the candy bar that’s inside, and frying up chicken and corn in a skillet in my right. I think I laughed out loud.

we tipped back a few brews and talked family. how strange it is, how it binds us together but how lucky we are to have it. whether it’s for a last minute baby sitter, or just for someone who somehow feels closer than a friend.

next stop, Oregon. I kinda wish I was riding a horse…

oh, Lagunitas...

2007-05-29T12:54:00.000-05:00

i am unable to come back to my childhood stomping ground without seeing one of my beloved friends from childhood, Galen Woodruff. anybody that has spent more than ten minutes with me has probably heard a story about Galen, and the crazy situations we've gotten ourselves into over the years. The log ride down the swollen river, constructing and flying our own hang glider, stealing and sailing boats. (ahh the memories!)

in late '05 he bought a house (and by house, i mean shack that was covered in garbage and a bane to the neighbors and county) in the woodsy and magical Lagunitas. Only Galen could go from living in a garage/shack (where he also built his guitars) that was situated 10ft from the cliff in Bolinas, overlooking the ocean and edge of our fair continent, to living in a hundred year old house overhanging a creek/river in the redwoods of NorCal.

i think that God has kept us spirit connnected through all these years, and every time i retreat to Lagunitas to 'recharge', i thank God for this friendship.

i was napping yesterday afternoon, yet finding no peace. i awoke from troubling dream with a weary spirit. i jumped in the car and headed out the backroads to go see him. the sun. the roling brown grass hills. the way the redwoods obscure the sun, the light and shadows dancing on my windshield as i pass under their majestic branches.

i arrived to a bear hug from my old friend. as i sat on his cabin porch (this is the little cabin that he built in 3 weeks that he lives in while he's rebuilding his beautiful house, and it's gorgeous), and sipped some exotic beer, with the familiar sound of the creek babbling not more than a couple feet down the embankment. The warm sun and the damp air makes it all so dream like. I look around and see the latrene that we built, the stairs that I built, and the nearly-done wood floor in the main house that I helped put in. it's so good to feel like you've contributed to somthing that is solid. we've had so many laughs (and beers) as we worked in the times (sadly few and far between) when I'm 'up north'.

we ate BBQed ribs and made a fire. as the darkness fell, his girlfriend and I prompted him to break out his guitar (that he built) and play for us. how right it felt for the music to rise up amongst the trees. we sat and he played. and the world felt right for a few minutes.

i left late last night, as i always eventually do, for some unknown adventure. whether on to SB or the open road, i know that I can always go back and find some notes of peace.

Lord, never let me stray too far that i cannot return to Lagunitas.

and so we begin, again...

2007-05-28T02:26:00.000-05:00

it took me till 2007 to get on board with this blogging thing. we'll see how long it lasts.

i left today. left my life in sunny (actually, gloomy) Santa Barbara. feel like i've done this before. got a different car this time. (moment of silence for my beloved White Car)

been telling everyone for a year that, hell or high water, I was going back on the road. been counting down the days. hell, there hasn't been a single day that has gone by that I have not thought about Montana, Red Feather, and being 'on the road'. and in a flash, here I am. I gotta say i'm still a bit disoriented. worked myself dizzy these last three weeks trying to make some last dough so i could justify this trip in my head. feel like i left in such a hurry. i swear, no matter how many lists i make and subsequently cross off, i never feel prepared. but maybe that un-prepared feeling is the point. too much control and we lose that 'real life' aspect.

i arrived at my parents this eve. will be here for a couple of days gathering self and relaxing the tightly wound spirit. don't think i feel like i'm quite on the actual road trip yet. i think it's because i've driven that damn stretch of the 101 so many times that it's actually familiar or commonplace or something. i think when i hit the open road north of here, heading into the California high country, i'll start to 'feel more at home'. cause i say, damn, nothing calms me down more than a drive. a simple arm-out-the-window/wind-in-the-face/vast-freedom-ahead kinda thing.

third in three years. i'm wondering how many more of these i'm going to need to take to calm this wanderlust. maybe next year, just one more: Alaska.

i'm sick. i haven't even really started this trip and i'm already planning the next one. and i never think that far ahead. i guess with the exception of these trips. i guess i'm always thinking about the next one. and...i just realized, that's how i survive in SB. not job to job. not show to show. but from one trip to another. is that wrong. one of these days i'm going to have to sit down (or take a drive) and figure out something else besides road trips to define my life with.
maybe later. or maybe in the woods.

i love this blog thing. i can think outloud and have a bit of a creative outlet. whoever thought of these things...

stay tuned for the further adventures of Michael Conrad II