the price...

nothing left...empty

another bus bound elsewhere

...back on the east coast..lost.

Leaving OR tomorrow morning. Perhaps this is wrong...

far too much...i'm holding on but i'm not sure how much longer...if November 3 comes and goes like all the other "departure dates"...i just don't know...my fingers are most definitely slipping

No longer can I wait stationary, unmoving. I spoke with the boss today and he is waiting for the word from the U.A.E as to when this month they would like him back in Dar es Salaam to complete whatever it is multi nationals need to complete. When I pressed for anything concrete he was unwilling to give a general time frame.

One of my dear friends is on a ranch in Montana and I asked if they need another hand...if they don't I leave OR and go to Seattle and then on to BC for at least a week if not more depending on funds. but it is no longer an option for me to sit and wait by the computer for an email that won't come for at least two more weeks.

life

is

lived

in

the

movement

Tonight while smoking the last of the days cigarettes George and I stood out in the yard contemplating the rotation of the universe, the solar system, and our humble planet. The conversation moved to the constant expansion of the universe...old stars dieing, new stars coming into existence...entropy seeming to exist only in the short term constantly birthing beginnings...i said "...so we breathe in the eternal...if only temporarily..." and we both sighed for the briefest of moments losing our anthropocentric egotism, our geocentric heresy caught in the sublime movements of the eternal...

at the moment when I felt i could be lifted from the perception of the finite here and now the sprinklers lifted from the ground plunging me back to the tension between my numbered days and the infinite...

My time in Silvertown is drawing to a close. Along with the completion of the wall. I placed the last stone in place yesterday morning before the fog had been chased from the hills. The wall was not merely a job it was the object into which I could pour all of my restlessness it was the object of creation something to be formed with care. Now it stands. No longer in need of care. Saturday morning I leave what has become "home" to spend a week or so with my grandparents and then to where? Africa still has the solidity of a dream.

Allowing myself one evening of self loathing, self pity, and self destruction I bought a bottle of the cheapest whiskey I could find. It didn't last a great length of time. Ten thirty found me curled up in the back yard in nothing but my undergarments, weeping, and ridding my body of the vileness recently consumed.

Early in the evening my dad inquired about a relationship and I spoke about responsibilities not ready to take on, lifestyle changes for which i'm not ready for...truth be told...that is all bullshit.

Truth is it's fear...she's what I want and I'm a damn fearful, prideful fool...

Oregon is in full bloom. Meaning the fog has descended, rain is pelting the leaves, wool socks paired with Birkenstock are in full force, and insignificant to some the average simple black birds are no longer on the wire. My fascination with migration and migratory patterns of birds is a new interest. Perhaps only from an emotional empathy concerning movement. Only a few days ago a group of some six black birds perched on the wire above the hedges and would chirp, whirl, chatter, caw, and all sorts of other avian acrobatics. Telling either of dreams or travel strategies. I prefer the former. The life expectancy of the average black bird is 20 years, a number expected to be far less. of course it's expected to be less because we as humans usually equate value and life expectancy with size. Perhaps all of this exposition on the life span of birds is pointless, mental drivel...perhaps not.

My thoughts are many....perhaps the contemplation of birds is a noble endeavor...it at least is of nature although not void of abstraction.

Tim stopped by my fathers work to have a message passed on concerning Africa...essentially "soon" was the message but still without definition. He also revealed the nature of the contract and the financial compensation will be significantly more substantial than previously thought which was already considerable for a minimalist such as myself...

yet...

perhaps in the pursuit of this dream, this life, this goal i have just made a fatal mistake. One in which I may never know the extent of the loss. Does the realization of one goal prohibit the realization of another...is it not a human gift to unify the thesis and the antithesis, to junxtapose the life of the family man and that of the wanderer...is it possible to place them so close side by side that they become entangled, intertwined in a brackish haze?

find me 'neath the killing cliff

As the time drags on from the meeting on August sixth between the company and the Tanzanian government I find myself more and more weary. I did find work and am building a stone wall for a Belgian women. A bit of creative masonry work never did anyone any harm. It's good to employ these hands and arms in some work in which the end result is only beauty.

Ending relationships barely begun is a painful ordeal. I feel as if an abortion was performed three months in...just far enough along the line to get comfortable and then...a void.

Eskimo Sages and Fur trading philosophers

Saturday in Anchorage having just arrived back in the most populated city in Alaska I thought it was high time to venture out on my own. Portland has the corner on public transit and Anchorage while being far better than Norfolk took a bit of time to figure out. Finally making it downtown dropped off on the corner of C Street I did what I usually do when exploring a new city...walk with no direction.

As an aside: There are moments when an unspoken idea grips me and I have to meander along until it makes itself clear. For example during Advent I felt like I should go to the Abby and after having arrived walking up the steps three deer eating blocked the walk way so we stood in silence for thirty minutes observing. When the moment was broken I drove back to the ranch knowing I had experienced what I had come to experience.

So meandering down the sidewalk a fur shop can into view and no longer being of the P.E.T.A. persuasion I stepped into the shop. Within seconds the introduction was made by the older Asian looking gentleman, apparently the owner of the shop. He was sitting in front of a wall filled with foreign currency, strangely not an odd site in Alaska. Immediately I came across the Mongolian currency and I pointed it out. Which of course prompted mutual inquiry and dialogue.

As the fates would have it he was a native Alaskan and by native I mean grew up in an Eskimo village in the bush. Joined the military under Harry S. Truman and served in the Pacific under MacArthur (before Truman sacked the general calling him a "dumb son of a bitch"). This gentleman, whom I'll call affectionately "the Eskimo" because his name I can't pronounce or spell, is not the poster child for native Americans of any stripe. It would take a vast amount of space to describe in full but he is an articulate, traveled, educated, gentleman....with a strange sensuality. When one thinks of sensuality one thinks of Mediterranean cultures or exotic Persians. Not articulate traveled Eskimo fur traders. Like with all well traveled older gentleman the course turned to my travels and then life lessons from those who have gone before. He bombarded me with questions such as: Where did you spend your first 20 years? Why are you going to Tanzania? Where did you learn to speak so well who is responsible for that? and the formative question which turned into life lessons "Are you at peace?"

The main point he attempted to drive home is that "one look is worth a hundred readings" ~ Confucius . He encouraged me to use my "good legs" and see everything for myself for to only view the world through pages is a partial and incomplete view... "Stand before the Mona Lisa!" "Stand in the middle of Ulanbattar" Of course these aren't ideas I don't know but it was an encouragement to hear it from an older "successful" man. When a drunk on the streets tells you to keep the faith and keep moving around it's disregarded as quickly as the dollar you just relinquished. But from a man of substance it lasts.

We spoke of Rembrandt whom he called "a personal friend" no doubt from the 35 times in St. Petersburg. He told me how to approach African women and despite the "aristocratic way they hold their neck" to pass on any romantic liaisons. And in the end of the conversation, mostly due to the fact I'd had one to many cups of coffee. He told me my English was very good but it had to much Richmond, to much Billy Graham, too much Ronald Reagan. He said i should rub shoulders with the Oxford and Cambridge educated in order to refine my English.

Sages, priests, and teachers can be found anywhere...sometimes they come in the form of Eskimo fur traders in Anchorage, AK.

Belonging

There is much in my head this morning. Much that needs not be littered over the net. My time in Alaska has been formative to say the least. Ones first impression is of course of the mountains, glaciers, and other such natural phenomena that leaves the observer with feelings of awe and frailty. But of course visitors have expounded on these things to such a level of saturation I don't care to rehash it here.

An Italian gentleman told me once. "Nicolas, you remember always remember, the meeting is the art of life." And it is meetings and conversations that brings me to this rugged geography. In the course of life I felt very much like the outsider, the unknowable member of the family (perhaps this was merely the angst of living in a large family) but in the course of two years I've met nearly every member of a family I never thought I had. Despite my own trepidation and fear they have integrated me into their own with compassion, joy, and acceptance. I marvel at the similarities the subtle subconscious mannerisms. Taking photos with my two aunts yesterday I was shocked that I looked truly looked like them...there was a continuity to our physical features previously held only by my twin whom I now i have little more than physicality to show our biological closeness.

Belonging is a strange feeling. It was interesting to experience it with my father...but to experience it with others is astounding. Feelings of cautiousness still follow and that faint expectation of the other shoe falling is still lingering....but fading.

yet I feel honored and grateful and over joyed that when I go I can return to a family whom i love and who loves me. Who places no expectation on me other than to live life fully.

I'm still waiting for the email...ambiguity still persists...

...the seas are raging...

Last night, once again unable to find sleep in the confines of trusses and support beams, my mind allowed a much needed self examination. I would be remiss not to mention the unavoidable fact that I have been an insufferable ass. Fatigue often softens rage stemming from uncertainty and tension born of ambiguity. Reliving the conversations of the day, for days are nothing but conversations and narratives, my conversation with a dear older lady replayed. Now this particular lady worked medivac during the Vietnam war, fought for the V.A. for better medical care, and amongst other things had a successful career in Hollywood. Usually our conversations cover history, literature, poetry, philosophy, and horsemanship but yesterday called for a more personal and intimate dialogue. Being a woman of experience any cover up would be noticed so when asked how I was holding up I was forced to say "..terrible...a bit like T.S. Eliot." We traversed the conceptual forms of simplicity, greatness, love, action, movement, and most importantly not being the 21st century Vasco de Gama caught in perpetual circumnavigation.

As we spoke and absorbed she related the best moments of her life...strangely some mirrored mine...bare back riding through snow covered mountains in cougar territory...feeling the 1,200 pounds coming off the ground in rhythmic patterns...flowing seamlessly into one entity...in spirit becoming for a brief moment the mythological centaur...

The purpose of experience and action should lead one to these moments...oneness unity...contentment. My trepidation concerning Africa is that it holds the possibility of all the goals and dreams held since childhood...it holds the road to the continued moments stated previously. My traveling days are far from over...my boots will always have holes...i just hope these travels lead to those moments...not lost in perpetual circumnavigation.

...a hope delayed...

Anger. An old feeling I thought I'd done pretty much away with. Contemplation has all but been pushed out and silence is all but whisper. I feel myself all too tender and sensitive. The meeting between the Tanzanian government, the investors, and the company I will be working for has been pushed back till the sixth of August. The lease will be signed with little delay and we will be on the ground doing the surveying and making the ground ready for rice. But in the interim I wait with thin jeans and worn boots...biding my time and losing my soul.

all in

Restless. My fingers are burnt and stained with tobacco. The consistency of my blood is probably more akin to something found in a French Press rather than anything human. Weeks away, merely weeks, the tentative departure to Africa and still where is the plane ticket where is the certainty? Living with ambiguity is dandy as long there is nothing on the line. I'm all in, no aces in the hole nor up my sleeve and I've got nothing left to lose if this falls through. Sacrifice after sacrifice relationship after relationship has suffered and my alleged "selfishness" has been the cause of many arguments and controversy. A friend asked me what if this doesn't pan out...I couldn't answer. Even the possibility of this not working out petrifies me. The only response was simply that "i'm all in" to which was asked where will you go. Silence again, although my thoughts spoke loud and clear...the ground...but you can't say that to people...

The depth of this need to get across the ocean is non rational....completely and utterly non rational. I need this.

Perhaps I'm struggling to convince myself of my own validity and worth. That I have some fucking reason to be sucking air and taking up space....that if i go and do this...i've validated my existence. Maybe I won't be worthless...

I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone other than myself...