Lost Without Going Anyplace

In a short time, I will have been in the same place (with a few exceptions) for the last three months. It feels strange to me after nine months of constantly moving. I came back to my home town at the end of May to stay put for a little while so I could really get some deep cuts for an anchor client. Most of the stories are right here in the mountains of northern Colorado.

It hasn’t been the worst place to park for a while. The rest of the country is currently sweltering under the summer sun and at 8,000 ft above sea level, even though the days inside the bus are hot, they are more or less tolerable. It’s given me a chance to work on assignments, not have to focus so much on where to find my next camp, where to find water, cheap gas, or decent internet service. A few times I actually went into the mountains where I had no signal just so I could stay off TikTok and Instagram and get some work done.

The only problem has been when you are sitting in one place for too long, you get complacent. Your mind stops feeling as sharp. On the road when you are making constant adjustments, looking for good places to stay, and having new experiences all the time, your brain lights up with all sorts of activity. Not a day goes wasted. Over time, since I’ve been parked, sometimes I get wanderlust, but I am also trying to save money for the push south when the days start to get colder again.

Hemingway once say that the writing life is a lonely life. Combine that with a life on the road and sometimes it gets even lonelier, but not enough for me to want to stop doing this. I’ve been enjoying the new destinations, making plans for the next place to visit, the stories of the people I’ve met along the way. And I have enjoyed the weather for the most part. Sometimes I miss the possibility of companionship. Having some degree of roots has its appeal. The chance to meet up with friends once in a while, or to ask someone out on a date seem like distant shores I haven’t visited in a long time. Life on the road is like a dream. It’s temporary. Ever-changing. Without routine, sometimes it can feel lonely.

I’m the kind of person who prefers deep, substantial connections with people. The friends I make along the way are not always that way. Sometimes I make a friend for a day and then it’s time to move on. I try to not get attached most of the time, because I know I won’t be in one place forever. I foresee a few years of living this way. Some people live very differently than I do, but I tend to get attached. Maybe this life is a good way of teaching me how to be less so. Every day in the bus brings its lessons.

Lately, I’ve been feeling that sadness slip back in. Maybe it’s because my mind isn’t as active. Sometimes I feel stuck. I want to save my money for the long drives ahead. I’m going to need it. There’s also another part of me that doesn’t want to travel the same roads. There’s so much out there to see. Places that take me further and further from the locus of this orbit in life. I have the whole world open to me with only a few significant limitations. Money. Time. My dog.

But sitting here in one place has begun to wear on me. I have that fear of being dragged back into a sedentary existence. Settling in more than one meaning of the word. My writing lately has been for bylines and paying clients. I need to write more for me. Even if it’s just here. But that’s part of it too, isn’t it? This blog is a portfolio to show off my writing chops. I can really only reveal what fits the narrative. I can’t talk about how I’m losing sleep lately because I feel that call to the open road. How too many things here remind me of defeats, or missing those I have lost. It’s hard to articulate to strangers that I crave adventure, new horizons, and meeting interesting people.

Even my photographs have mostly been for work these days. One of these days I need to just go out and take some pictures. Without an agenda or narrative. Without a dollar sign. Just to be creative. To write. To photograph. To have adventures for just myself.

I used to talk about a carpe diem attitude I once had. Buy the ticket, take the ride. Watch the sunset. Kiss the girl. Live every day as though it’s your last. Hell, I could line up another half dozen slogans you could see on a bumper sticker. I find no comfort in familiarity these days. I think by the time I’m ready to pull up stakes, I will have reached the limit of my patience for sitting still. I almost welcome those splashes of gold and red in the trees. The cold, crisp bite of the air at night. The shoulder of Orion peeking up over the mountains to the east that tell me the winds of winter are on their way.

I miss being in tune with the world. The scent of burning pinon wood in chimneas. The soft rains of November in the desert. The haunting songs of burrowing owls and the cackle of coyotes. And then I will also miss the sound of the wind through aspen leaves. The warm scent of blooming lilacs. The taste of newly fallen snow on your tongue. The whisper of running water. The roar of the ocean. I believe human beings were meant to rove throughout the seasons, not just endure the extremes as the world passes around us.

Lately I have felt lost without even having gone anywhere. I’ve caught glimpses of things I want in life, but know right now isn’t the time for that. I’m on a pilgrimage of the soul. A quest of the spirit. The human condition. I’m on vast waters and here there be monsters. At some point when you aren’t going anywhere, you feel stuck, like you’ll never go anywhere ever again. Once you’ve seen what is out there in the world, it’s hard to stay in one place. You crave something new around the corner every day to the point where you clench your teeth thinking about how far away it seems to be.

At least that’s what I think about sometimes on nights when I close my eyes and sleep won’t comfort a racing mind. It’s just about time to go.