A life of courage, joy and independence.
It’s a little difficult to describe how alone I felt out here this night. There was literally no sign of humanity in any direction, not even the lights of airplanes. Only the wind made any effort at motion, or sound, or any activity which suggested I was still within the world of animate movement or life. Though there was no life here which would care for me–I’d left them a day away, in another world, and a place I could barely muster to memory for the fact of its very real distance of mind–I was nevertheless very, very alone with the soulless beasts roaming the dark, reminding me that I too have no soul, and therefore no capacity to survive any darkness greater than this night. And though I was alone, I knew that I was still not as alone as I’d yet like to be. Going Alone is a far and deep trespass into places we both fear and marvel, and it is always possible to go too far, and always a fact that we must each one day go further than we can ever return. I’m not nearly ready to go that far. I’ve far too much love of life to wish that feign passage anytime soon. So, when the full moon finally began peeking over the invisible Black Mountain to the east of my night camp at Deep Water, I knew I’d then enjoy some relief from the deep night, and some rest from the delicious anxiety of deep solitude which ever has the capacity to satisfy, while always leaving more emptiness than was hoped for or sought.