April 4, 2015 8:00 PM
He asked if I was leaving my campsite—that mine looked more level than his. Upon acknowledging that I was, he asked where I was heading.
“I don’t know. West. Maybe Northwest. I’m kinda playing it by ear.” … Read more…
The moon, full, glowed behind a thin veil of slowly drifting clouds as I stood naked in the woods, staring up at the sight. I nodded to myself, climbed back into the van and turned the refrigerator off for probably the last time. … Read more…
Though the trees are still nude, bright green grass springs alive next to the gravel road and in sunlit patches around camp. The day has been largely overcast and when it rains, you hear it rather than see it—the soft patter on the dead and decaying leaves that Fall has left behind.
The Winter edition of A Mystic’s Journal is now online. I expected it to go live yesterday, but Amazon’s robots—finding the text of the book already on my website—thought it was public domain and flagged it. Software glitches like that make you wonder just how long it will take Artificial Intelligence (AI) to decide—due to either a bug or a hacker—that human existence should be “flagged and deleted” because of public domain issues. Just kidding. No one in their right mind would consider hacking AI’s—making them kill off a select portion of the population that meets a strict set of criteria (ie: Line 001: If person X = “Mystic” then kill person X). Who would want to do something like that?
Though I expect they will be our demise, AI’s are coming. Which brings up a couple of questions:
Farfetched ideas, I know. But then so was the internet not so long ago.
Why am I looking for water? I don’t need any. I’ve got a good 8-9 gallons left. And yet it’s on my mind: Fill my water containers. Does this gas station have water? Does this park?
Of course, in my quest to find drinking water, everywhere I looked I failed. I was trying to find drinking water, so of course I couldn’t actually find any.
I’ve got a third jerry can filled and stored under the bed, I’m just too lazy to pull it out. It’s easier to fill the two that I keep by the back doors than to dig out that one…
Damn it, now I have to go dig out that one because I’m thinking the same thing you’re thinking: That the third jug is empty.
In Resurrecting Jesus, Adyashanti mentions how, after the spiritual seeker wakes up, they are often confronted with a series of trials—trials they will fail if they continue to act from their old self—their personal self—rather than from their newly awakened “Eternal-I” Self.
I don’t think the Trials ever go away. Fear sucks and is stupid and is no way to go about living life—and the Trials act as an excellent reminder of this. You try… you fail.
Water will appear when I need it. It always does.
Same with camps—with finding a place to sleep. Even though I still put more thought into the “Where will I sleep tonight?” question than I’d like, I’ve always found a place to sleep. Take today for instance…
After lunch, I said my goodbye’s to Doug and Dakota, hopped in the van and headed northward. Not finding water in two places that my mind was sure would have water, I said, “Screw it, maybe they don’t have free drinking water in Alabama,” and took that as a sign to head to Tennessee. Which I did.
And along the way, right near the road, I found this pleasant little open spot in the woods without even trying.
When I try, I fail.
Eventually, me-of-little-faith, I’ll learn that lesson.