The Journal Entry That Changed Life

I am obligated to post this.  (This is what I was searching for when I ran across the previous entry.)  On my birthday in late August of 2007 a lot of unfortunate things took place which ended up with me driving to Cades Cove, TN at 3am and setting up camp in the back of my Jeep for the weekend.  I spent the days down in Gatlinburg (read: heaven on Earth) lurking around the Village for unique crafts, antiques, and delicious nom.  In the evenings, specifically Saturday the 25th, I sequestered myself to the forest with enough food to survive (and not enough to attract bears) enough wood to keep a fire going until the wee hours, and my journal.

I was in a moment of introspection when I penned what I think could possibly be my moment of inner-awakening.  Or at least me arriving at the moment of realization where I knew no matter what happened, come what may, I could handle it.  Because I was a hell of a lot stronger than I'd ever imagined myself to be.  I still call upon this trip to remind myself how far I've come in my life.  And I don't care how it sounds, I'm damn proud of me.

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August 25, 2007
Once more I've gone almost 18 months without writing in here.  To save myself from recanting old fears and to appease the skeletons in my closet, I will not fill this in with what has been missed.  I opt instead to begin with right now.  I've decided to tell my story the way I see it.  Pages can never be erased.  Memories can never be erased.  Although most will fade along with time.


Here I am.


Alone in the wilderness with not so much as a familiar face around.  I have a book intently flirting with my eye, this journal, a pen, and a pack of cigarettes.  A few feet away sits a bottle of whiskey so casually, as if to mock me by its mere presence.  Instead of giving in to any of it, I built a fire.  Which, reading that as I write it makes so much more sense.  I have to do that, we all have to do that, everyday.  Literally, its what I've done.  But, I see that its application reaches far beyond primal action.


I'm another year older now and even though I really am wiser, my actions would prove otherwise.  Sure, I learn from each situation, but the execution of these lessons needs refinement.


Sitting here has been perfect.  I feel something in my soul has been triggered... some latent mystical ability to flow myself with the unkept predictability of nature.  I have no means of readily contacting the outside world, and although I could easily check the time, I refuse.  Out here, all that matters is how much daylight is left.  Dusk is adamantly forcing his will in my world as I longingly cling to what sun remains.  Over to my left the coals of my poorly managed fire burn in a smoky ember while two squirrels pass in front of me as if ghosts.  High on a maple branch there is an owl.  I've made friends with his watchful eyes, I believe they guard me from what I can't see in the coolness of twilight.


I left my story momentarily to stoke the coals with what remaining wood I have.  Fire, with all its incomprehensible fury is remarkably tender.  The survivalist in me is happy.  If I can rule over this flame with such calm determination, then surely I can do anything.  At least, that is what I feel.  With another stick placed, my attention is drawn to the azure flames as they whisp around my arm.  Thinking perhaps in all of this I should be burned, but refusing the injury to avoid the scars.


Now darkness has blanketed the area and the world of the day has swiftly changed guards to the busy night.  The forest is coming alive.  As much as I'd wish to pretend the busy life I knew was far removed, a plane rumbling like thunder in the night air reminds me of the things left behind.  A simple thing such as that rings a familiar truth in my heart.  The thing about avoidance is that it will be guaranteed to catch up with you.  Even what you had forgotten about. 


I was 18 when I began this journal, and a few hundred pages later I see the first thing I ever wrote.  As if beckoning to myself, somehow here in this moment so many years later:


      "Every story is intrinsically the same.  It starts with a beginning.  Eventually, it will have an end.  In the mean time you'll find love, hate, joy, sorrow, gain and loss, failure and success.  But along the way... if one is lucky enough... you'll find truth."


What is my truth?  What isn't my truth?  Until I'm long gone from the earth and all that remains of my life is a chewed up memory, I will never cease learning new truths... I will not cease to grow.  Life is an unpredictable battle full of twists and turns, but its one story that I plan on writing myself, everyday, with every moment.  That is truth.