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History: "The term "weblog" was coined by Jorn Barger on 17 December 1997. The short form, "blog", was coined by Peter Merholz, who jokingly broke the word weblog into the phrase we blog in the sidebar of his blog Peterme.com in April or May 1999."

"An employee named Evan Williams of Pyra Labs (which would later develop the very popular "Blogger" platform) officially defined the word:

1. Blog (noun) An online journal or weblog
   

While Evan Williams would have enjoyed retaining control of the word, it spread far and wide, becoming both a badge of pride to those who began to sense the power of the "citizen journalist" and as a derogatory term used by those (usually in the mainstream media) who didn’t like the usurpation of their role as primary disseminators of information."

I never liked the word Blog! Maybe too close to "Blob"! Maybe reading "becoming a badge of pride to those who began to sense the power of the citizen journalist…" rubs me wrong. There is certainly no sense of power on these pages! I am aware many feel the contrary towards their own written words as too often only “actors” in their stories. Such a fine line between "power" and "sharing". The reasons are infinite even if words lately have been escaping me. The words on a Journal are to me merely expressions of the present, a therapy which turns into memories for the days I can read them over and do as such with photos. Maybe days forgotten, maybe weeks, months, and all brings back where was one while reading these already past their own moments pages. The longer the road, the more words there are and while being here for too long I have to be cautious towards the escape of the present. It will not come back. I cannot let it slip away. These times passing by which we have no control over them vanish with every breath we take. Words help embracing them. All goes hand in hand like a drunk sipping on his bottle with his high maintained only by the next sip and on and on…

These are our last weeks here. Will be gone mid October. Everything is coming along nicely including my hard to grasp "patience". So much internally I feel has changed. Is it me? Is it this space? My bubble? Yet, as always when departing, the bitter sweet aspect will make its presence. I already feel it and taking it all in while here regardless of the changes. I think this time around it will only take a few miles from the bitter to switch sweet. We have been so detached from it all, including news and you can guess what kind (!). This think tank here has never ceased bringing on the most unexpected thoughts while also getting to know myself maybe a bit too well. So often I wish as I would not and skim Life unaware of it all throwing away my certain awareness.

The valleys and the peaks have never ceased. Head low throughout the paths of those at times lower elevations of the mind, I go way back to the beginnings, before the beginnings as, while at times I still ask myself the question "Life? Is that it?" I have to move on forward. Lucky always to have chosen this path, regardless of the reasons. It has been some pretty good years I must say as we prepare ourselves for another ten?

While here, my physical path does not anymore match my mental one. I have to be on the road for them to complement each other I feel. And why I wonder? I had to think about it. The sights, the landscape, the sunrises and sunsets are here as beautiful as ever. The mountains surrounding me while standing still on the horizons always distract from what could have been flat lines. The flames of the fire pits never cease to dance as in harmony with them. The landscape is what feeds me and yet, could I say all is getting old around me right now? How dare I… It is a reality however as much as I don’t want to admit it. Am I needing always to escape within a short time what is present or is it just an addiction of a curiosity towards the next bend in my path?

When will I be able to stop? I think about the many that live what we call a "normal" life. Meaning they have a home to come back to just about every night. They get away for weekends at time or a few weeks and sometimes not. They are comfortable, secure and content within their structure. There is something to be said about that. A real kitchen, bedrooms, real bathrooms with showers, light switches and faucets on demand, a garage and a fence? not much to worry about while sheltered from the weather throughout storms and cooled off when too hot. Maybe even with a swimming pool and a backyard for a resemblance of a comfortable Nature. A little piece of it. Not too wild, not too well manicured, just comfortable enough. Do I sometimes envy the ability to live as such? Maybe… for a very short moment immediately however followed by this sensation of falling into a deep black hole and never coming back up. I could not afford it anyhow!

Why have I changed? I know I have and it often disturbs me. Something has. At times confusion sets in as I tell myself I have not. Am I really soon going to once again find that spark of being on the road as it was before? Why do I even think about it as such deep down thoughts makes me a bit leery. There was never a wall, a barrier between here The Oasis and the paved and unpaved miles ahead. It was come and go to my liking but right now the "no go" has lingered too long. For hours I even wish The Oasis did not exist and that thought alone punches me in the stomach and hurts to no end. I never met anyone being on the road full time not wanting after a while, could be a year or a few, a home base to come back to and mentally, physically, just stretch away from the daily tasks while being on only borrowed spaces.

The mind has stayed sharp but the body has taken a beating. I need a push every morning awaiting for those gears to engage! I have become more and more aware of that fact. I have even found myself timing the warm up time! I find it pathetic, yet, I have to be thankful that within twenty minutes to half an hour there is a resemblance of normality. It is not all quite downhill as I have to laugh about it while I yell at Life’s aspect of getting older. I think that is the one fact that has changed me a bit as a new question arises. Maybe not new as I realize I have asked that question on earlier "Is this how Life is suppose to be now?". Maybe I expected much more. For sure I had never envisioned it to be as such when I was younger. Lose a Son, an only Child, abandon a thriving business, live in a tent for years while the weight of such a loss never lightens up. Never. I think that is the aspect I did not expect. It actually becomes often heavier than ever as nothing around me has stopped spinning. Only his Life did affecting no one but his family and myself as why should it affect anyone else? My savior is always my bubble I retreat into repeating these words "it is my problem and no one else’s…".

The walls of this bubble Spirit and I live within have become stronger. Maybe that is why we needed to be here for a while. Spirit is my smile, my comfort, my Friend as no one has ever matched these past years his love, gratitude and honesty towards me. His eyes rest on me at all time and I can hear and understand everything he says. I look up to him for his ability to live in the present moment. I am not as good as he is but I try. I always say "I want to be him!" and yet, if I was, how would I have ever enjoy his presence. While living his moments, those "nows" one after another, I watch his eyes smiling and his tail always wagging giving me the comfort that I am not quite so alone.

The one aspect I don’t think he knows, as how could he since he lives within the ultimate present moment, is the fact that all is so temporary. I myself have to put the brakes and slow down that thought. We cannot live in a mental future. It would be wasting our present times. We can however live with our memories rolling on while we stare at the horizons or look up at the millions of stars lining up our nighttime dark skies. I have no fear of my memories even if some makes me cry as others make me smile and laugh. I accept that they are just memories once I lived through. I can almost physically transport myself back to those moments. Feel them, be within them. That is what the present allows me to do and I am thankful for it.

Isn’t Life amazing?

Stay well, Ara and Spirit

This entry was posted on Friday, September 16th, 2016 at 8:27 am and is filed under travel, spirituality, pit bull, sidecar, motorcycle, cooking, photography, riding, homeless. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.