Two years ago this month my life took a hard right turn, the end result of which was an entirely new perspective on how, and why, life is meant to be lived.
A large factor in that perspective change came as a result of this trip, these people, that place:
The combined richness of that experience, those souls, and that landscape affected me indelibly, changed how I fundamentally perceive and interact with the world. And I don't mean because now I often have a paddle in my hands.
A few weeks ago my life took another hard turn. Staring down the barrel of a .45 pointed by an irrational, implacable human left me shaken, questioning, uncertain.
All of the above still apply--perhaps even more now.
In the wake I've spent as much time as possible with old, good friends--the kind that have known me long enough to see and maybe even understand the change that happens too slowly to notice myself.
I've pondered and brooded--much more than normal if you can believe that--and have asked hard questions of myself. Largely, I haven't liked the answers.
Not to say that many answers have surfaced just yet. Introspection on this level, I'm learning, happens as a process and without a set schedule.
I spent a good chunk of time in the mountains last weekend, sifting through and sorting things out.
It seemed natural, even right, to return to the place where I best knew whom I was, what I wanted, and where I was heading, even if none of the above answers apply today.
Maybe especially if.
Thus far the only certainty is that I need more time to sort out the chaos and uncertainty that reign.
I can't help but to read it metaphorically.