To Go Back To Where I Was Would Just Be Wrong, I'm Pressing On

It has been a long time, brothers and sisters. I'll take a little bit to tell you about where I have been between then and now but not too long; today is a beautiful day, and I'm ready to get out and see it.



First, trying to leave Oklahoma City turned out to be a story all by itself; it seemed nearly impossible. I spent most of my first day walking along a toll interstate, blatantly ignoring the large signs that I passed telling me that it was illegal for pedestrians to walk along a toll highway. I really hadn't had much trouble getting a ride in Texas, so I assumed I would have had someone stop soon enough so I wouldn't have to be concerned with the fact that I was illegally walking down the toll road.



Stupid Oklahoma.



Seven hours I walked; and what happened after those seven hours (during which I decided not to worry about filling up any water bottles because I assumed too much) isn't much better. An officer of the law came up and turned on his lights and sirens when approaching me. How serious of a threat am I, really? I don't think whatever "kid walking down the road" in police numerical code really calls for lights and sirens. I liken this situation to a health inspector checking that a child's lemonade stand has a permit to operate; at that point, you're really just taking your job way too seriously, calm down.



Either way, considering that a few people I know of might be reading this will be looking for instruction and advice, let this be a moment to stop to talk of our men in blue. From what I have learned, it is going to happen; you'll be pulled over by someone that will more often than not remind you of a Sheriff Rosco Coltrane archetype. Now, this could be seen as an unfavorable situation from a commonly shared perspective, but even moreso for my hitchhiking brethren that are more likely to carry along a little something for their peace pipe with them. But despite any reason you may have, treat the officer with the utmost respect; usually ass-kissing is easily noticeable and frowned upon but in this particular case, lay it on thick. I've been stopped by three cops so far and each time, puckering up just tends to get me out of trouble.



The officer searched me and ran my name in his computer, then had me stand with my hands behind my back as he loaded my backpack and sleeping bag into his trunk. Yeah, because I could wait until the opportune moment and lunge my sleeping bag at him and start running-until five minutes later, when he would've caught up with me in his car. But he ended up giving me a ride to a nearby truck stop that happened to be back in Oklahoma City, at which point I was beginning to play with the possibility of being trapped in this town and after a slightly frustrating day, I determined not to get caught in the wicked little web of Oklahoma City any longer.



That explains why I was stuck there for four more days.



Apparently, no truckers head eastward anymore; "Fuck east, west is the new east" would appear to be the general consensus. The only trucker I could find headed that direction was going to Ohio which would've been a great start on my way to Maryland, so I decided to wait for him to leave. Unfortunately, that took a few days of him trying to find out about the load he was going to be picking up which meant a few days for me making that little slice of Oklahoma City my temporary stomping grounds. Mainly, that just meant spending a few days listening to truckers provide commentary on whatever movie was playing in the lounge; which isn't near as bad as it sounds.

But after a few days, the trucker left and the ride to Ohio had begun. I was dropped off outside of Columbus by about ninety miles and that is when everything started to fall apart in front of me. I did manage to get a ride to a small town outside of Columbus where I spent the night; but after that, I found out something. There is an old addage about people from Southern regions being more outgoing; and the more time I spent in Ohio, the more that honestly seemed to be the case. That waitress that smiles at you as you eat your breakfast in IHOP, the cashier that asks how you are doing with a friendly demeanor as he hands you your change; those little gestures help out immensely with the loneliness of the road but I couldn't get so much as a smile out of anybody where I was. The only person that I was able to get to smile and laugh was the man that gave me a ride to the small town, and he was from Texas moving to Ohio.

Given that, my loneliness on the road had hit me pretty hard when I got there and that alone I could probably handle as I had before, but then I broke one of the basic understandings of hitchhiking. I hitched into a metropolis nearing sunset, knowing that I didn't have any options once I got there of getting out or getting a place to stay. My desire to keep moving had overwhelmed me and left me unprepared for the situation. It was at that point, with the loneliness and paranoia of a night-drenched city all around me that I broke down and worked up a Greyhound ticket back to my hometown temporarily.

At first, I felt ashamed of myself for giving up when it was already one in the morning, and if I could've lasted a few more hours, I would've been fine. But it seems the road is always trying to teach me that no matter where I am, there is an opportunity there to experience and learn more about myself or that place. I think I know somebody that put it much better than that though-

"There is nowhere you can be that isn't where your meant to be, it's easy."

Coming back home offered me a chance to learn more about how far I had come in the last two months, but not in the regional sense necessarily. I am more of a patient person now, I feel like I have obtained some lost spirituality within me, and I am more confident in myself as a human being. Last night, when dealing with an issue that The Clash knew a good deal about, I had my first completely self-confident thought in several years.

"Darling you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
If you say that you are mine,
I'll be here until the end of time.
So you've got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?"

I had some forbidden fruit that could potentially become a relationship and I thought about resting and resuming a normal life there in my old stomping grounds, but I begin to develop a different opinion after pondering about it a little more. What would happen when I became miserable with every faction of the life society had appointed me, save for the lovely lady by my side potentially? I would want to leave again.

"I lost my Saint Christopher whenever I kissed her..."

I had lived by that line from Tom Waits, waiting for a partner that I matched with well enough that would end my life on the road and bring me back to the aforementioned normal life. I found out last night that I don't even want what I was planning on finding; I have fallen in love with the road and she kisses me kindly. Normal life? Fuck that, I'm everweird and I couldn't be more proud.

"I don't ever want to feel like I did back then..."

There is the newest issue of Rolling Stone on the counter next to me, and I can't help but think that Bob Dylan's kindly smirk on the cover is meant specifically for me; as odd as it sounds.

I've been thinking about the tomato vines as a metaphor for spirituality lately; how the tomato cage helps to make the plant stronger but in doing so, it limits it to only a general means of growth. Denominations are the tomato cages of our spirituality, some need them to remain strong in their lives and in their faith but it patterns their growth after most members of that denomination before them. So what happens to the ones who let their spirituality develop freely and disregard the consequences of doing so?

Well, I'm a tomato vine sprawling across a wooden fence with no particular direction to grow except outward. Sometimes for some vines, nature will grow those tomatoes more ripe than any tool of man ever could. It's a sunny day and I'm looking to stretch out and grow some more.

I'm ready to start again, enough typing, let's get this show on the road.

"Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life."

Regards from the Kodiak.