The Still Philosopher

Like many things in life, being lost is all about perspective. At that moment, standing in my empty apartment, I felt like a penny on the beach. Displaced, next to a sea of uncertainty. My insides frozen in shock as my outsides began to move in methodic survival mode. No need for a traditional compass as I hastily packed my large frame backpack with basic necessities and made a beeline out the front door. The direction I headed was, quite simply, AWAY. The previous nights events replayed in my mind like a bad movie. Desperate phone calls, each hour, going straight to voicemail. Pacing the apartment, crying over every possible scenario. Steaming with anger and disgust, I bounced down the thinly carpeted steps and into the bright day. All I wanted was to get lost, leaving behind this tainted dwelling with its toxic truths permeating my soul. Just a few hours before, I was huddled in bed, wrapped in misery when I heard the front door unlock and a woman's voice laughing, with my partner, as they entered. Inhaling deeply, my eyes welled back up with tears. The warm summer sun hugged me like a friend, yet I was too numb to be comforted by it. Heart still clamped with pain, I looked down at the old highway in valley below, my gaze climbed the mountain and leapt to the horizon. Without any true destination, I marched right down the drive and over the old highway in a flash. Eyes glazed with long hours of crying, I cut through the field and up the side of the mountain without hesitation. The pack was lighter than the burden of betrayal.

Soon the grass was thicker than my anxiety and I subconsciously put more effort into navigating the field and less into stressing about my heart ache. Struggling through knee high tangles of weeds, I refused to be held back. Practically running up the mountain side, I stopped to catch my breath and looked over my shoulder. Back across the way I could see the old highway separating the wild of me, and the edge of the small town. I stared narrowly at the dot which was now my apartment, small yet so significant. A terrible thought transported me back there. They enter the bedroom, a pretty girl shyly says, "Hi", and slips into the bathroom. "Where have you been? I called all night!", I sobbed, choking back tears. I shook my head to scramble the unwanted vision, then huffing passionately, I continued up the hill until I reached the tree line. I stood in the shadow of a large hardwood and marveled at how much ground I was capable of covering when I was emotionally distressed. Not wanting my crusade of confusion interrupted by any well adjusted towns folk, I avoided the ATV paths leading into the deep mountain forest. I cut a sharp angle, walking along the tree line, determined to ignore the now tiny web of suburban shopping with its glaring gas stations and cocky modern complexes, gossiping of my departure from freshly bulldozed mounds of half grass. Out of sight out of mind was my meditation. I had put a fair piece of ground behind me, yet still, the town wasn't disappearing fast enough for my liking. It was a glaring reminder of all that had transpired the night before.

Reaching the corner of the field, I stepped quickly into the bordering wood. The sun had become too revealing and I was now thankful for the shade to cool my burning shame. I felt I was making some sort of progress until the wood opened back up into a neglected clearing shaded by dense bordering trees. A massive old still stood proud in the center and observed me with a big steel belly and copper appendages solemnly waving. I did not wonder of its history, I knew it at once, it was my own eternal struggle to belong, to be known. Seemingly forever destined to be out of place, every where. On fringe of society in defiance. I slipped silently through the tall grass and sat opposite the silent stone furnace. With an unfocused stare I looked beyond its large form into my partners lame excuses, " My cell phone was dead. Chill Out she's just a friend from work. Its her birthday and we went out to the strip club to celebrate." The uncaring nonchalance of his words still cut like a knife deep within my wooded sanctuary.

"I cannot believe I left my home, my family, my friends, everything I ever knew...for this!", I thought out loud. My regretful revelations began to ferment my desires. Heated with rage I jumped up and stalked across the clearing into the next patch of wood. I walked for at least 3o minutes, barreling through the underbrush A well worn farm road appeared beneath my feet. The tracks were only visible for a few yards then dead ended into the overgrowth. Abruptly stopping in my tracks, sweat rolled down my body. I hadn't made note of landmarks up to this point. I was too preoccupied thinking of the dirty deeds that marked my relationship. Needing rest in every sense of the word and not wanting to completely lose myself. I decided I had traveled far enough. Time to begin my delirious holiday of dissociation and deliverance.

I positioned my tent just off the abandoned farm road. Easily setting up the small tent , I lamented at my total lack of bedding. One fully charged mp3 player, 2 packs of saltine crackers, a few joints, a pack of hotdogs, 2 packs of cigarettes, a jug of water, along with random clothes, completed my inventory. The clothes, would have to suffice for my pillow and covering. The tent looked terribly bare, like my life. Its emptiness was sad and suffocating, so I headed back out into the wood. Armed with my mp3 player and a joint to combat my loneliness and despair. Unwanted memories continued to mentally assault me. Wandering wistfully , I found myself headed back to the old still. I flopped with a thump by the keg. Playing 'I saw the sign' by Ace of Base on repeat, my esteem rose over the words of spiritual water. Self worth began to trickle into my stomach, slowly filling me with a warm peace. A haze of hash swirled above my head. " .... And it opened up my eyes...," I was riding the steaming sound back to sanity. Thoughts bubbling into an indignant mash. A yearning for change coiled deep within my spirit.

Eventually, I grew hungry enough to admit and trudged wearily back to my makeshift campsite. The tent floor was thin tarp over hard ground as I sat uncomfortably munching saltines and chain-smoking. As the day faded, I decided against making a fire. I didn't want to give up my position. Sometimes cold hotdogs are the symbol of a persons fierce independence. The dark night was my companion, embracing me so tightly I almost forgot the sickening feeling that wracked my core. I carried on this way for 3 days and nights, ceremoniously rationing hot dogs and crackers, sipping water from a milk jug, with no fire except the one in my belly, bubbling with anticipation. I attempted to keep my thoughts clean, not wanting to taint this new batch of plans with the disappointments of yesterday.

Low quality ingredients had produced the current sickening outcome and I made a vow , to myself, to never accept second best again. Endless hours of self reflection stoked my passion for transformation. My fore shot mind was full of garbage and I dumped it in the meadow. Fresh air, freedom and the glory of the green wood produced the perfect chemical reaction within my heart. By night my confidence doubled as I basked in the moon shine. Unfiltered dreams began twinkling in my dark skies. Life trickled slowly by as I sat in the shadow of the old still. By the third day my mental bucket was full of determination. A kiss of sunlit honey rays and I was ready. Bottling up all my courage, I carved a deep X0X0 into the side of the stills big steel belly. My metaphysical mentor seemed to say, " Your pure proof now, don't just sit on the back shelf, knock 'um out!". With my fiery outrage finally extinguished, an ember burned for reconstruction of my life.

Attempting to retrace my steps through the woods, I was sure I had been missed. Imagining a warm welcome and a swift apology, a fuzzy mental picture of reconciliation began to form. 'I saw the sign' echoed like a siren in my head. Nothing like roughing it in the wilderness, half starved, to make a person delusional enough to try and reconcile with a snake. I smirked at my own naive notions. I became desperate for any sign of civilization as I wrestled through the underbrush, nothing looked familiar. Suddenly, I popped through a thick hedge and out onto I the side of the old highway. Now grateful for the web of streets full of food and shelter, I walked with a pleasant gate. Coming up the drive, I was surprised to see my partner standing outside our building door. I realized he was on the phone and hadn't noticed my return.

The parking lot was close to empty as the sun dipped low in the sky. His tall, fit frame came into focus and the sharp features of his handsome face were almost enough to bury the fact him back, call off the search!", with a sly grin. Not making eye contact, he looked genuinely irritated and half snorted then replied, " I was actually planning a party." His tone said I ruined his plans. I was so confused and sputtered, " Y...You mean a search party?" He stared into the sunset trying not to laugh. " No, a real party. " " I thought you were GONE," he exploded, " I haven't seen you in days, now I have to call everyone and tell them that the party is off!" No hug, no offer to help with my bag, I watched as he angrily bounded up the steps. Frozen in disbelief, my eyes searched out the far off mountain side that had been my home the past few nights. Deep in my gut I missed the old still and its silent wisdom. Thankfully I had enough clarity bottled away to numb this mental sucker punch. I climbed the stairs behind him, with conviction.