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“The question is not what you look at, but what you see.” Henry David Thoreau

This isn’t going to be an easy one, one of them stories that writes itself. I am kind of screwed here, because it has fallen on me to do the damn job. My time in Alaska was very powerful for me. Happily, I can’t even tell you exactly why.

I wish I could tell you and tell myself exactly what is going on.  I’ve been around a little and if something blows my doors off, it’s a big deal. I felt such wonderful silence out there, that I actually spent long periods without music. I have written endlessly about how much music has been part of my life and I am rarely without it. Music has been my syncopated drug forever. I just now think I should love my silence with the same devotion, a musical detox. 

I have never written without music present, often finding its way into any given story. Right now, I am writing in silence and it is because of my time in Alaska. The place made me feel stripped down to a speck, because of its sheer size and grandeur. I liked the idea of the quiet. It felt like it took me deep within myself. 

I have been doing my yoga practice in silence, which I have never done before either. I realized that almost always having music to fill the voids, creates its own kind of voids. Until I was in Wrangell, I didn’t realize the beauty of those moments and how rich they can be. I am not talking about meditation or any stuff like that either. 

Writing about this now makes me feel a little like a privileged asshole. I have my meditation, with my little altar and the stuff on it. I get my dripped coffee and sit at my computer. After a while, I do my yoga practice, followed by twenty-five minutes on a stationary bike. It is really sad that silence is a luxury, too. I wouldn’t dream of trying to find the words to describe how lucky I feel. 

I keep saying I don’t feel like I am completely back. It has taken a while for me to understand. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’m back, because that’s how profound it was for me. Imagine someone my age using words like,“life changing” and not feeling embarrassed by it?

I thought a lot about time. Somewhere, in one of the stories, I said that my experience on the Stikine River, going to Shakes’ Glacier, was something I never imagined experiencing in my life time. It wasn’t said with any sadness, rather it was bathed in wonder.

Now that I am back, I am feeling its impact. I started thinking about taking my foot off the pedal just a bit. Some of the shit I care about is dumber than fuck. I have always wanted to know what’s going on, as if there are demerits for not knowing. All this week, I’ve been cruising through the news of everything and I don’t seem to give a shit. It’s like I am Teflon Man. Now, it feels like a misplaced kind of caring.

I have no interest in my weekly news podcast. I’ve spent hours culling through news stories each week and thinking about solid commentary. I am thinking, now in AA time, I had to be nuts to spend so much time in it. We are dealing with two time zones. There is BA (BEFORE ALASKA) and the aforementioned AA (AFTER ALASKA).

I am kind of joking and I’m not. I feel touched by my time there. I wish I could tell you what it is, but I don’t know myself. I am no fan of accidents, at least not in my life. This trip was one of those important things that was destined to happen and it had to be perfect. If it was thrown off anywhere, at any time, for even a hair trigger moment, I wouldn’t be writing this. 

When I got this idea in my head in the first place, I would have laughed my ass off about Alaska. Who the hell would go there? I wanted to be in a small village, anywhere in the world, as long as water was a part of the culture. So, when I say I know for a fact I am not in charge, why would I lie? What happened to me is the best I could have ever imagined, in Alaska, of all places.

I think there is actually something to this time zone thing. I definitely feel like I am in AA time. I swear it feels different and wish I could tell you why. Sometimes, just leaving things is the change needed for the next journey. That’s how it feels to me, to be honest. 

Fuck, you have to try and understand, I am 78 years old, born May 29, 1945. Honestly, I hope most of you are younger than I am, because I would be depressed if the best I could do was some old farts, drooling on their screens. My age matters in my stories. I wouldn’t even know how to ignore it. It is why I am doing this in the first place with you. It’s like reading about an explorer, who has been to internal places you can’t visit yet, but you will, trust me.

I was jokingly looking for a quote by Thoreau, having to do with nature and I found the above. I wanted to make fun of myself, one of my greatest writing joys. I read it and reread it and understood it was my experience in Alaska. I saw me.

Please read Larry Goes To Alaska. If you don’t feel like it, share it anyway. I think it may be half decent. 

EBOOK:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1MyqbMWhGwnvSyoov5CJ5Wxp5UxLJZ0xT/view?usp=sharing

PDF:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Hj0TudQ0Re0v2lll9taVr6E_7yFGip9h/view?usp=share_link

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