“If you think you’re free, there’s no escape possible.” Ram Dass
I really wasn’t sure where to begin this story. Let’s start with choosing Ram Dass and the two reasons for it. I think the quote is prophetic. I am not sure where he was in his life when he said it and that’s got nothing to do with it being on the money. If you don’t love what is, you are lost.
I also happen to like the guy, what little I know about him. No, I am not about to dig into another’s life, when I am truly lost in my own. Many years ago, I was in a small theatre in Santa Fe, NM, watching a documentary about his recovery from a devastating stroke. In the midst of a conversation with someone, tears began running down his cheeks. I had already been suffering from that affliction for years. I don’t know why, but that scene validated my propensity for tears for years. I was free to cry and I do.
Now, I can get to the damn story, even though I am still clearing a path for more word walking. A few mornings ago, I was on my stationary bike, which I try not to hate. My buds were in my ears and a guy by the name of Krishna Das was filling my head with a Kirtan yoga chant, beginning with Hare Krishna, what else? You can get lost in the repetitive nature of the words and the melody, which is the idea in the first place. It also numbs the monotony of the boring bike.
I started to cry and I mean a really Oscar winning flood. I knew it had to do with Alaska. I have been feeling a little like a Wrangell Zombie, still in that place that had such an impact on me. Without much provocation at all, I am back, sitting on that couch, looking out at heaven. There were times when it actually felt that way to me.
My time in Alaska shook up all those tiny pieces that make up my life. They have falling down all around me, since I got home. My very own, living snow globe. They are still kind of swirling around and I’m feeling it.
I had such a personally powerful time up there, it had to come back with me. It’s my age, kids. I have said repeatedly, all I want to communicate through all this excessive writing on my part, is the phenomenon of the moment. Where I am, not where I’m going. If moments could make noise, they would grow louder with time and that’s the truth. Something you will learn to appreciate, God willing.
I am pretty sure I know what’s going on. There are very few times in my life when I’ve made huge changes, because I believed with all my heart, I had no choice. Fear was barely alive when it came to those moves. At their core, were physical dislocations and relocations, miraculously parachuting into worlds that were waiting for me. I am feeling just like that again, except it has nothing to do with geography. However they all started with a recurring feeling that all is not right, birthing a kind of discomfort with what is. It is the flame of change.
This time it has less to do with physicality and more to do with the internals, or I should I say eternals? I am sensing a tectonic shift in my life force. I am talking about some powerful shit. It has everything to do with my age and that’s the stone-cold, fucken truth.
When I was younger, those big changes were part of the plan. I had no choice, but to take the show on the road. This time, location is not in the equation. It has nothing to do with where I am at all.
There was something about that morning cry that brought a moment of focus. I broke out of the snow globe and took a look around. I got to commune with myself in such an unexpected way, while in Wrangell. The more I got to see all around me, the more I got to see inside.
It feels like I have barely embarked on a new journey, having nothing to do with duration, unknown to me at this moment. There are times in our lives that are filled with anticipation, at least that’s been my experience. You know what was cool? Finally being a teenager at 13. Driving at 17. 21 and an adult. After that, it gets more complicated, because life gets more complicated, but the age yardstick don’t ever get retired.
Age and time have always mattered to me. Very early in the game, I got to seriously appreciate them both, when my father died. Now, there is something about being up here that is seriously uncertain, even actuarially speaking. I honestly don’t know what happened in Alaska, but I feel unstuck. I am not gonna fight moments of optimism, as if I have lost the right.
“I am not sure when the excitement connected to age milestones goes from joy to dread.” The moment I finished the prior sentence, I caught myself thinking how fucken presumptuous of me. It’s that writer bullshit again, speaking on behalf of the entire populous. I purposely want to always call myself out, when I do bullshit like that. I am only speaking about Larry, all the time.
When I made those big moves, NYC to Santa Fe and then Kauai, I felt compelled by forces beyond my comprehension. I tangoed with those motherfuckers and came out better than fine. I had been blessed both times. I knew it for certain and never once took it for granted.
This time around, something has begun and we are still getting to know each other. These tears of mine, flowing now more than ever, are really like the river of my life, connecting symbiotically with the magical Stikine River, up there in heavenly Wrangell.
At this point in my life, it is no longer about the destination. I am the destination. This is the victory lap. I can’t see the finish yet and that is not the point of this tango with mortality. It’s all about the dance.
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Listen, I wanna pimp Larry Goes To Alaska just a little longer. If you like it, share it. If you don’t like it, share it. I think it may be pretty good.
EBOOK:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1MyqbMWhGwnvSyoov5CJ5Wxp5UxLJZ0xT/view?usp=sharing
PDF:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Hj0TudQ0Re0v2lll9taVr6E_7yFGip9h/view?usp=share_link