Day 24: Resting like a Stone

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I'm here, cramped in the back seat of my car. It's nearly midnight. There is a lake before me and the stars are out. I'm in the gorgeous New York State typing with my thumbs on a tiny screen. This disadvantage allows only the most important experiences to be documented, and even them, in brief.

Today my soul was riveted. Today I was taught in the school of the prophets in Kirtland, Ohio, in the same room where many gave vivid descriptions of their visions of Christ. Today for a moment, I was the only soul sitting contemplatively in the upper room of the Kirtland Temple as the Community of Christ tour guide stepped out. Leaving me alone, a worn Hebrew textbook in my hands, the same that might have been studied by the Prophet himself. I was the only one there.

Today my mind has been called up to great mysteries, to peaceful answers, and as usual in clear contrast, great heartache.

How is that no matter where I go, no matter what I do, and no matter who I speak with, no matter what size or appearance of the waves which wash over my inner self, I am continually vexed with a spirit that makes me groan in my depths. There are beautiful things that inspire me. Certainly, the scenery of this nature so elegant, so grand, so rolling it seems as I travel from one state to the next is worth admiring in solemn wonder. And there are truths that enlighten me. Certainly there is a finer reality that seems to play hide and seek as the coarse mind flickers as a bulb in a dark room. There are little things that make me smile. Certainly, the quips of the experienced elderly, and the innocent enquiring of the child give precedent to stand back and appreciate the innocence, the experience. There are people that love me. Certainly I I love them in return. And there is the Gospel of Christ that saves me. But there is also, certainly, this burden defying illustration, resting like a stone in the lowest parts of my being. It's why my eyes are always tired. It's why my head always hurts. It's why for the most part I am a little too comfortable with solitude.  It's why I enjoy writing. 

I am bound by the limits of this world. But in my words, I can create universes. 

I will end this with my thoughts on mummies. I do not have the experience or knowledge enough to explain the apparent inconsistencies in the papyrus of where the LDS faith derives the book of Abraham. In my very brief jaunt into the contemporary and secular understandings of Egyptology there does appear to be many unsettling oddities that could easily be used to denounce the validity of the faith. This must be so otherwise there wouldn't be a controversy. 

However, and not to justify blind faith, I think, considering the immense implications  and nature of this whole business, the truthfulness of the Church, I'd unequivocally say that further study is required. 

An easy answer would be to say that God can do anything and that Joseph is a better interpreter by way of being divinely inspired as Prophet Seer and Revelator than any otherwise considered authorities on the matter. This might be so, but the truthfulness of that statement is by no means meant to let the enquirers parish in unbelief, or in other words, there would be, under this example no motivation to learn of the nature of anything at all, for any phenomenon of the universe or of the mind or of the soul could be easily explained by the lazy statement "God did it." 

Certainly God gave us enquiring minds. And certainly He didn't do this for us to  let them atrophy. There are answers to every question. And we are capable of discovering what those answers are, no matter the question. 

Perspective I think is the key. A person could continually discover and unveil the mysteries of the universe, upon every one building a body of evidence that there appears to be no God, all the while another man might be unveiling those same mysteries coming to the conclusion that he is gaining ever deeper insights into the mind of God.

All the while, perhaps God, in his infinite wisdom waits for us to realize an astounding truth of which often gets overlooked, that it's us as well, not solely himself in his Godhood who is eternal. The implications of this once realized should impress the mind with incredible paradigm shifting consequences. What does it mean to be eternal?

Goodnight.





 

Day 23: Lean on Me

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Day 23:

I'm a day behind on my entries because I skipped a day so this entry is actually for yesterday, Tuesday, the 15th. I'll try to get back on track here soon.

Today started good as I found an all day pier parking lot for only $10 right next to The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and museum in Cleveland. Unfortunately the Great Lakes Science Center which stood next door was closed for renovations, or something like that. But the Hall of Fame was really amazing!

Between the section dedicate to Elvis and a movie theater section playing clips from the inductees over the years, there was a small section in the museum dedicated to the staunch and ever present opposition to rock music. These were politician, evangelists, police officers and other concerned citizens. 

Now, of course there is the sex and drugs and anarchy (don't forget the satan worship if you play your records backwards) promoted and indulged in by some, perhaps most, but I would justify the genre by emphasizing one quality I think these musicians abound in: honesty, and honestly often times, if you search beyond the blatant graphic content and conduct of the more colorful bands you discover that a lot of these artists write and sing not so much of sex and drugs but of actual life struggles, love and comradery, persevering and overcoming hardship in very meaningful and creative ways.

I'm a sucker for lyrics and there are plenty of lines that come out of rock music that just soothe my soul. Admittedly, I'm partial to the oldies that border on soul, rhythm and blues and even country such as Johnny Cash, but more contemporary stuff has its highlights too. Dobie Grey, Cat Stevens, Hendrix, Speedwagon, and obviously Lennon, Zeppelin and Queen, and just so many others it's hard to recognize all of my favorites in a small post. 

But there are a few gems that cause me to rest easy at night knowing that this planet has been graced with such elegance, soul, and just pure heart and real life experience. Bill Withers is one of my all time favorite artists and people in general. It just doesn't get any better than Lean on Me. And it just so turns out that he was inducted into the Hall in April of this year. Way to go Bill!

I'd do a little write up of his life but I really don't have the time to write much more than I already am considering the disadvantage I am at with my writing phone. I'm practically texting these posts. And my day isn't over yet.

After leaving the Hall of Fame museum I searched out the local skatepark. Of where I found a homie that beat me in skate(I let him) and who was terribly interested in my religion after learning that I was from Utah. To sum up, because I can barely keep my eyes open right now, I literally taught a first lesson to this 18 year old skater from Cleveland. Apostasy, restoration, authority, and everything right there in the skatepark! Everything short of extending a baptismal date that is. We talked for an hour or so, and I almost wanted to get a rematch so I could beat him but I thought I'd just let it go. If you can believe it, he got me on an Ollie late back shove... Not front shove... back shove. I don't know how many people can appreciate the extremely odd nature of that trick. I can tell you I've never attempted it before in my life. That is saying something.

Goodnight. dif tor heh smusma





Day 22: Heart-Broken Centurions

I wrote this in a spirit of depression. I was kind of lost when I started writing about my day and it turned into this. It's not so much a report about my day as it is just thoughts that have been weighing on my mind recently. I was hesitant to post it last night because I know sometimes I can get a little aloof with my writing and I was tired when I wrote it as well. I've reviewed it now that I am fully awake, revised it and I feel a little better about it. But be warned, this is my poetic, ultimate truths, nearly insane side. I will post day 23 early tomorrow. Thank you.

Do you know what hell is? Hell is rushing down a lake shore road to Cedar Point, Ohio, camera at the ready, believing that you'll be able to behold some wondrous scene as the ephemerally setting sun dips below a glowing three toned pristine lake, but realizing all too late that Cedar Point offers no place to peacefully observe even for a moment the glorious artwork of God. All the while being pressured onward by those behind you so as to not allow you to pull off, turn around, or even stop for a moment and reevaluate, forcing you to glean Heaven from a dirty and retreating rearview mirror. Hell is the moment you realize that you've been spending all of your time driving down the wrong road.

Sadly, what you just read is a true story. Both literally for me at this moment and figuratively for anyone who has ever experienced the sorrow and torment that accompany the harsh moment of clarity when a comfortable paradigm is shattered. 

I can't tell you how important it is to continually evaluate where we are as individuals. There is a Heaven. This is certain. Physical or metaphysical, it doesn't matter. What matters is that the roads we drive down determine where we go. And we have the capability to recognize, through metaphor and through simile, truths that otherwise might only ever be realized after the cold hard facts have settled and implemented their consequences upon the conscious soul.

There really is a place where one can begin to behold the glory of God, weave through the infinite strands and start to comprehend the depths of the Atonement of Christ, and, ultimately allow the spirit to descend and sanctify the body, heart and mind.

There really is that place, but there are many roads that would make you think they're taking you there when in reality they only take you so far. Some blatantly take you right on through the gates of hell, while more often, others show you a nice and convincing path to that grand and glorious sunset even allowing you at times glimpses of its grandeur with signs ushering you onward.

Being on the road every single day I think about these things. How on earth is a person supposed to determine which road is the correct one if there are so many enticing but opposing routes to take? I don't suppose there is an easy way on earth to figure it out. But what I do suppose are a few things I hold to be true which might help in directing our paths. 1. I hold to be true that there is life after death. 2. That we are immense beings, intelligent with endless potential. 3. That there is a God and we, being endless in nature are capable of understanding deep within ourselves who this God is and subsequently what road will take us closer to him. And 4. That only through long suffering and patient love can you begin to help others understand the deeper and often times difficult principles of this universe. You will never usher in providence through degrading, bashing, hating, exploiting, gossiping,

using, downplaying, or manipulating others. 

Even if you're just absolutely certain that someone you care for is on the wrong road, maybe the best thing to do is to take a closer look at the road you are on. Certainly the consequences of that evaluation will bring about better results for you and the person you care about, than an all out assault on this other person's chosen road.

Love one another. Pray continually. And then you might begin to see the hand of God. 

After the heart-breaking realization that I was, indeed, not going to be able to sit peacefully and watch the sun, I began driving away, when suddenly, to my right I saw something nearly as beautiful, an old memorial cemetery just before dusk.

Call me odd, but there seems few things to me more peaceful than a quiet cemetery nearing the night. I walked around taking in the scenery. 

Obelisks stood all around, tombs lay above the ground, Angels with wings stood and sat, some glorious and others nearly curious, perhaps contemplating even why we put so much emphasis on death when it is in life that we should rejoice. 

Crosses, grand and small abounded signifying the sacrifice and immense victory over death for the Christian, while American flags silently waved in the gentle breeze next to medals offered for the valiant warriors of this earth who served in grisly wars. And then there were the roses. Being ever still, yet contrasting the grey and the green with their vivid red, tenderly beautiful, standing as a sentiment of love and passion. Never forget. 

I was the only one there yet breathing. But it was peaceful. Never taking for granted the sorrows, and the heartbreaks, being respectful of every stone I passed, I touched some of the older ones. The letters were fading away and it was difficult to read their names. It's hard to imagine what lives must have been like. Who were these people? How did they pass? Surely, stories begin to change and be forgotten, and memories fade.  But one thing is certain. They were humans like you I are and they once lived. Without knowing any of their stories beyond what I could denote from the words on their headstones, I can sympathize with that fact. They lived once.

That might now be much you think, but I'd like to ask you a few things. Have you ever loved some one? Has your heart ever been broken? Have you ever hated someone? Have you ever cried out in the night for help and felt like no one was there? Have you ever smiled as some new principle previously unknown rested gently upon your mind? Certainly these are things that nearly every can relate to if you are blessed enough to be called a human. 

Whether you're a good person or bad person doesn't really matter when you realize that even terrible people are beautiful and loved in the eyes of Christ. Even the horrendously demonic creatures that haunt our dreams and strike fear into our hearts seem to lose their power as the thought descends upon ones mind that love defends against all things, and that it heals and reaches to and beyond the most gruesome and harrowing depths of hell. We start to see that Gargoyles become Angels, and that demons become merely heartbroken, fallen centurions from the highest courts. We begin to see even the most loathsome creatures with compassion as opposed to disgust. How is it that we can look out and find it in us to hate?

If only it were that simple. Actually, I think it is.

Goodnight.

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Day 21: My Childhood Home

 

I'm feeling a lot of things right now. Traveling stirs a persons heart in many ways. And since I wasn't able to see much today I'd like to share with you a poem written by Abraham Lincoln. I stopped by his place of birth on my way out of Kentucky but it was closed when I got there.

This poem is sad but I love it. 

My childhood's home I see again, 
And sadden with the view; 
And still, as memory crowds my brain, 
There's pleasure in it too. 

O Memory! thou midway world 
'Twixt earth and paradise, 
Where things decayed and loved ones lost 
In dreamy shadows rise, 

And, freed from all that's earthly vile, 
Seem hallowed, pure, and bright, 
Like scenes in some enchanted isle 
All bathed in liquid light. 

As dusky mountains please the eye 
When twilight chases day; 
As bugle-tones that, passing by, 
In distance die away; 

As leaving some grand waterfall, 
We, lingering, list its roar-- 
So memory will hallow all 
We've known, but know no more. 

Near twenty years have passed away 
Since here I bid farewell 
To woods and fields, and scenes of play, 
And playmates loved so well. 

Where many were, but few remain 
Of old familiar things; 
But seeing them, to mind again 
The lost and absent brings. 

The friends I left that parting day, 
How changed, as time has sped! 
Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray, 
And half of all are dead. 

I hear the loved survivors tell 
How nought from death could save, 
Till every sound appears a knell, 
And every spot a grave. 

I range the fields with pensive tread, 
And pace the hollow rooms, 
And feel (companion of the dead) 
I'm living in the tombs. 

II 

But here's an object more of dread 
Than ought the grave contains-- 
A human form with reason fled, 
While wretched life remains. 

Poor Matthew! Once of genius bright, 
A fortune-favored child-- 
Now locked for aye, in mental night, 
A haggard mad-man wild. 

Poor Matthew! I have ne'er forgot, 
When first, with maddened will, 
Yourself you maimed, your father fought, 
And mother strove to kill; 

When terror spread, and neighbors ran, 
Your dange'rous strength to bind; 
And soon, a howling crazy man 
Your limbs were fast confined. 

How then you strove and shrieked aloud, 
Your bones and sinews bared; 
And fiendish on the gazing crowd, 
With burning eye-balls glared-- 

And begged, and swore, and wept and prayed 
With maniac laught[ter?] joined-- 
How fearful were those signs displayed 
By pangs that killed thy mind! 

And when at length, tho' drear and long, 
Time smoothed thy fiercer woes, 
How plaintively thy mournful song 
Upon the still night rose. 

I've heard it oft, as if I dreamed, 
Far distant, sweet, and lone-- 
The funeral dirge, it ever seemed 
Of reason dead and gone. 

To drink it's strains, I've stole away, 
All stealthily and still, 
Ere yet the rising God of day 
Had streaked the Eastern hill. 

Air held his breath; trees, with the spell, 
Seemed sorrowing angels round, 
Whose swelling tears in dew-drops fell 
Upon the listening ground. 

But this is past; and nought remains, 
That raised thee o'er the brute. 
Thy piercing shrieks, and soothing strains, 
Are like, forever mute. 

Now fare thee well--more thou the cause, 
Than subject now of woe. 
All mental pangs, by time's kind laws, 
Hast lost the power to know. 

O death! Thou awe-inspiring prince, 
That keepst the world in fear; 
Why dost thos tear more blest ones hence, 
And leave him ling'ring here?

 

I am tired. Goodnight dear friends. You have my love. Oh, by the way, I am in Indiana. I'm gonna take it easy for the next few days as well. 

Once again, thank you, and goodnight.

 

Day 20: Sparkling Cherokee Spirits

 

Day 20: Sparkling Cherokee Spirits, not cider...

Pre Script: This is an entry that I sorely needed an actual keyboard to write it on as opposed to notepad on my iPhone. I was not able to do today justice with my phone. But I did my best. Thank you guys so much for being patient as I work with what I have. 

Cave 1: Mammoth Cave

Mammoth Cave in Kentucky was a great experience. It is the longest known cave system in the world coming in at 400 surveyed miles. And that is just what's been explored.

The Historic tour was two hours long but I could have stayed in there all day. It was very cool.

Names were written on the ceiling of the cave with lantern fire that dated from the 1800s. And some of the names were of fine calligraphy which is remarkable since each letter had to be made up of many individual burn marks or dots from the small flame of a lantern. Initials were more common since they were obviously easier to write, but one that caught my eye and that the tour guide pointed out was the large full name arching over a prominent section of the cave "Isaac Newton"! Obviously it wasn't THE Isaac Newton that wrote it but it is still interesting to note that someone either with the same name or someone who liked Isaac Newton enough found it in their interest to trek into the dark and mark his name on the ceiling. I found myself just wanting to explore the names and see who else had it in their mind to burn their essense into Mammoth Cave from hundreds of years ago. Perhaps, had I enough time, I could have found my own initials. It's very likely. There were a lot.

There was more recent and admittedly less interesting graffiti all over the place but it is a federal offense to write your name now, as it is seen as vandalism--as opposed to historic art. There is something obviously intrinsic in the year 1970 that transforms graffiti in the cave from historic art to vandalism. I couldn't tell you what it is though... 

The early arbiters of the cave, post Native American inhabitants let their African American slaves guide interested parties through the cave system in the mid 19th century. And a certain Steven Bishop who is credited with discovering and mapping nearly half of what Is currently known of the cave was the first person to cross "the bottomless pit." The pit was a sheer drop off of a hundred or so feet of which the bottom couldn't be seen. My group walked over it with ease since there is now a steel walkway traversing it. But Bishop originally managed this by extending a plank across the void and hanging the lanterns he needed in his mouth while shimmying across it. Not only did falling into the pit mean certain death but losing the lantern was nearly as deadly since there is no outside light that deep into the system.

We had the opportunity to turn all the lights off deep within the cave. Even though it was only for a few moments, the blackness to me was strikingly remarkable. Obviously losing your light altogether could easily spell certain death so far into the cave but given my privileged and quite safe advantage in this circumstance, that moment of utter darkness, to me was almost heavenly. I felt a moment of pure delight as I waved my hand in front of my face and saw absolutely nothing. For a moment I wished that there was no one else around me so I could just lie down and take in the grand silence while I entertained the avenues of thought that so easily came into mind as the absence of light rested upon me. I'm not certain that I've ever experienced such a sensation as vivid as this darkness was. It was grandly beautiful. 

Steven Bishop learned how to read and write from allowing his tourists to write their names on the ceiling with the burning flicker of lanterns. The spark of light in the human soul perseveres in the darkest abysses, both temporal and spiritual. It's people like this that inspire me to take advantage of all of the blessings that abound in my life. Thank you Steven Bishop.

Cave 2: The Bell Witch Cave

*disclaimer. This section might be frightening to some. The Bell Witch is a demonic entity that terrorized and brutalized the Bell Family in the early 1800s.

This cave has been on my mind for years. And it was only an hour and a half away on the other side of the Tennessee boarder line so I took advantage of the opportunity and went. Unlike Mammoth Cave this cave is on private property and the tour guides are a sixteen year old girl and I'm assuming her mother. Upon entering the premises I was notified by a single finger point and, not so much as a glance in my direction to a sign that said "no less than two must be on a tour." I was the only one there...

Determined to visit the cave I waited around for about a half an hour trying to make small talk with the man of the property who I'm assuming was the father, but I just got the silent treatment since all my questions "would be answered on the tour" that it appeared I wouldn't be able to go on.

Finally a car rounded the bend of the old country road and a family got out. I had my tour group, or so I thought. They got to the desk, looked around and apparently just then decided that crawling into a cursed cave haunted by the demonic witch spirit of Kate Batts who was responsible for terrorizing and brutalizing the Bell family for years vowing to return in the future wasn't exactly a family appropriate activity... To which I responded privately--how did you even make it this far than? We're in the middle of nowhere! 

So my hopes were dashed. That is until another vehicle pulled up a few minutes later. And this one was an even happier and nicer looking and younger family. I didn't have much hope with this one and once again they entered the visited center, looked around and left, much to the chagrin of the man behind the desk. 

"I have never seen that happen before." He said puzzled.

I sighed.

But then a few minutes more went by and another car pulled up and two people got out and they walked straight up to the desk and paid for the tour. I was in!

We met up with a few other people who were already on the tour and I felt a little out of place as the sixteen year old girl half hazardously walked us through some replicas of the original cabins trying, or perhaps not trying to scare us with the audio tapes of voice actors reciting the journal entries of one of the Bell sons who suffered through the original hauntings from the Bell Witch.

Honestly, at first, I thought it was really kind of hokie and I was almost regretting the $20 I dished out for this tour. But toward the end of the cabins tour the recordings began to strike me. 

This Kate Batts creature seemed to be a real entity who really did appear to, speak to, and terrorize the Bell family. It seemed eerily familiar. She was reported to take on multiple personas, even at one time pretending to be an Indian from the burial ground they had built their cabins on. Her disembodied voice quoted bible passages to the family, and at other times she physically did harm to them, tearing blankets off of them in the middle of the night and pulling hair and other terrifying things. The son even reported that she could read their thoughts and make predictions about the future, even asserting that time and space had no bounds on her. He reported that she regularly appeared to him and to others in the family usually at night. And at one point Kate Batts even threatened to kill Mr. Bell.

Out of all of the terror it was made known to me afterwards by the other more seasoned tour guide that the Bell family reported her alluding to the Native Americans and saying things like how they and some other unknown cultures weren't as primitive as everyone thought and that if the scientists knew exactly where to look on the earth we would leap forward into new plains of understanding as earlier cultures had previously done. This is certainly a very odd demon.

After the final cabin I was a little bit more interested. But I think I was just excited to get into the cave.

We walked around a field and downward toward a stagnant body of water. Around some cliff faces we turned and you could see the entrance to the cave. There was an iron gate with a large lock on it just inside the entrance that made it look immediately intimidating as you descending down into it. 

We started walking down a long natural corridor lit by flood lights lining the walls and almost immediately my left eye started twitching. It does that occasionally so I wasn't worried about. 

After maneuvering through the rocks into the first open room the guide showed us the grave site of a Native American  child. She began to tell us all about the history of it and how Ghost Adventures had been there recently and how they were able to get geologists down there to examine the interior. Petrified coral-reef stuck to the ceiling which had been there since the whole of this continent was under the ocean some un-remembered and ungodly amount of years ago.   Countless geodes half embedded in the walls of the cave were smashed and used as flint arrows by the Cherokee as well. 

While she was talking I kept seeing this odd red and sometimes white blip of light around the cave. It felt like it was inside my eye though, not exterior and my left eye continued to twitch. It was almost like a very brief twinkling light that appeared every so often. I ravenously took picture on my phone. 

We got to the end of the cave(as far as we were allowed to go) and she discussed with us all things Bell Witch. She kept pointing the light at me because she was trying to point out certain spots in the cave and I was apparently too eager to explore them before she had gotten to them so I kept having to jump out of the way so the rest of the group could see what she was pointing at.

Finally, she told us of her experiences in the cave. Four times in the last twenty or so years since she's been there, she said she'd seen a rippling figure that she related to the mirage effect you see when heat rises off of a highway road, that not only blurred the light around it, but, you guessed it, sparkled with different colors.

I chuckled but didn't say anything. My eye twitched again. After awhile it became apparent that she was ready to bring the group back out. I rushed in front of everyone to the first room so I could be alone in there for a few moments. I saw the white sparkle blip high above the floor and near to where the cave extended upward into a higher room that a person could get to if a little acrobatic climbing were employed. I followed it as far as I felt like I wouldn't get reprimanded and looked up. Straining my neck to see further into the upper corridor where I last saw the white sparkle heading I reached farther upward and pointed my light in that direction. The rest of the group was still a ways behind me. And I squinted. Just as I thought I might see the the light again it hit me right in the face. In the left eye that is. A heavy water droplet landed directly into my left already twitching eye as I looked directly upward. It was the same one that had been twitching the whole time and that I'd been thinking the sparkling lights was being seen from. I stepped back and to my surprise the group was in the room and beginning to leave it actually. I let them continue so I could have a few more moments alone with the cave. I took several more pictures in the empty Cherokee grave room, looked around stoically and began making my way to the exit. I didn't see the lights again after the water hit me.

"Last one?" She asked as I exited.

"Yep." I replied. 

I walked to my car and left. 

My left eye is even more irritated now. It feels like there is gunk in it and it has that scratched eyeball feel to it. I'm not worried though.

Now, as far as I know, the reports of the Bell Witch are actual and true in the understanding of those who experienced the terror. I have no idea how much of it is played up to sound worse than it was but certainly this entire place has had an odd existence. The witch, the Cherokee burial mound, the sparkling ghosts. It was so odd even that Andrew Jackson made a visit to the property at one point. It is said that he was scared off and never returned. 

My whole left eye twitching, seeing the sparkling lights and the water hitting my left eye after the whole thing was over is to me, kind of uncanny. But I'm not making a big deal out of it. It just makes me smirk. 

It's time for bed. God bless. 








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Day 19: The Feathered Serpent

 

First thing I did today was eat pancakes! It's always nice to have a real breakfast. I stayed with some friends outside of St Louis last night. It was really nice. Anywhere that isn't the back seat of your car is always very welcome and appreciated! 

After parting ways I made my way toward the Cahokia Mounds. I've been wanting to visit these mounds for awhile and I wasn't disappointed. There are hundreds if not thousands of mounds of varying sizes and dimensions scattered across the North American continent. These specific mounds are of particular interest to me since they have been called the most significant Native American structures north of Mexico, and the Monks Mound is the largest pre-Columbian earthwork on the American continent. It's base is about the same size as the Great Pyramid of Giza, however it only rises up about 100 feet whereas the Great Giza pyramid is nearly 500 feet high. And obviously, it's not made of stone but rather varying types of layered clay and other soil.

The Cahokia, or rather Mississippian culture as it is referred to since we don't know the name of the real people who lived there, started building the mounds between 900 and 1000 AD according to archeologists. But sometime around 1400 the culture appears to vanish from history. 

An artifact of interest that was found near the mound is an exceptionally well preserved small tablet with the appearance of a bird-man etched on the front. The back is a diamond hatched crisscrossed section like a checkerboard and some say that it resembles scales of a snake. Yeah, a snake. Now, I know what you're thinking. It's Quetzalcoatl! The feathered serpent! The Mesoamerican Deity that some within the LDS faith speculate is Christ. 

Now, I'm not going to get into that but I was slightly taken aback when I couldn't easily find through a Google search a correlation between the Mississippian cultures' serpent bird-man tablet and the Mesoamerican feathered serpent Deity Quetzalcoatl. I suppose there wouldn't be because the dates don't match up and there is too large of a  land gap between cultures and it is, for all I can tell an isolated tablet without many others like it. But the fact remains. There is a tablet with a scaled bird-man on it that was discovered just outside of St Louis and it happens to be nearly the same in appearance and significance, as the Mesoamerican Deity Quetzalcoatl. That is in my uneducated opinion quite significant and should be made known to more people. I suppose it isn't lauded because it is in many regards similar to the Saqqara Bird or alleged flying machine of ancient Egypt. Basically it is very interesting, but too little evidence has been brought to light as of yet that no one wishes to jump to any conclusion or draw comparisons to such an extent that it is hardly ever even talked about. Reputations in science are sacred. It only takes one irrationally drawn conclusion and you end up like Percival Lowell spending the rest of your career trying to live down your one blunder. 

Anyway, the mounds were the highlights today. I tried to make it to Mammoth Caves but they closed before I could get there. They will be first thing in the morning! Right now I am sleeping in another bed in good old Knob Lick, Kentucky! 

Goodnight.

 
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Day 18: Let Virtue Garnish thy Thoughts Unceasingly

 

I could hear the carousel music echoing down the streets of an old run down town on the edge of the Kansas state line. Occasionally a person would walk around the corner of a brick building and give me an odd look like I wasn't supposed to be there. I'm sure Mulder had walked these streets years ago investigating some oddity that everyone there new about but no one would talk about. It was surreal.

After Leavenworth, I made my way to the Liberty Jail Church Historic Site. I walked in the front door wishing I had been a little neater in my appearance but it was too late. The senior couple jumped up from their seats and began excitedly talking my ear off! I was the only one there and they began my tour. 

You know. A lot of people think Joseph Smith was a charlatan. There are a lot of people who get hung up on the oddities and half truths that surround the early church. I am not going to address any of those things here. I'm only going to talk about my experience today and this is what I have to say:  

Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God; and the doctrine of the priesthood shall distil upon thy soul as the dews from heaven.

46 The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever.

D&C 121:45-46

And,

7 And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.

8 The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?

9 Therefore, hold on thy way, and the priesthood shall remain with thee; for their bounds are set, they cannot pass. Thy days are known, and thy years shall not be numbered less; therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever.

D&C 122:7-9

These are only a few verses from what Joseph penned as revelation from God while unjustly being imprisoned in a cramped, dark dungeon for nearly five months while awaiting trial. 

You can talk about Egyptian papyrus and polygamy all you like, but these chapters in the Doctrine and Covenants are some of the most astounding, profound, insightful, and beautifully written pieces of literature ever penned and anyone would be hard pressed to argue otherwise. 

My visit to the jail was also surreal but it was different than Leavenworth. And I just can't find a way to describe it. The church truly is an anomaly when contrasted with the rest of the workings of this world and it makes me smirk when I think about it. On the large scale, I feel like it's almost invisible even though it's right there in front of everyone. It's odd. But I am grateful to be apart of it.

After my tour of Liberty Jail I began the trek across Missouri. I headed east toward the Gateway Arch. I was there in no time. And after driving through some intense inner city construction I found a place to park. I was disappointed that it had closed just shortly before I arrived so I spent some time taking some pictures from the ground. And then I made my way toward a bed. Yes, an actual bed! One with Buzz Lightyear watching over it non the less. I am grateful. But I am also exhausted. So I am going to say goodnight. Goodnight.

PS. Writing these entries takes longer than you'd think especially when I write about the church because I don't want to write anything concerning it in a raucous tone or say anything off kilter. I don't have time to review a lot so you have to forgive me if anything odd gets put in to these posts. And I'd hope you'd understand my intentions if they do. If anyone is wondering what my intentions are, it's this: to learn as much as I can of this world, to love as many people as I can, and to live my life as my conscience commands.

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Day 17: Waxing Poetic

I remember a hole in the porch. It wasn't there. Someone must have fixed it.

I remember a hole in the porch. It wasn't there. Someone must have fixed it.

 

Day 17: 

Literally, I am cooped up in my car with the doors locked sitting in a parking stall at a "modern rest area." That's what the sign on the interstate said. Modern means WiFi and vending machines. Some of them also have people--and I mean pretty regular looking people donning badges of some sort, who are, I'm assuming protecting the premises? Or maybe just watching it giving the impression of security. 

It is comforting... If only slightly. 

...But metaphorically, I am sitting on a pier dangling my feet over the edge watching the ripples roll out in all directions from every time I dip my toes into the crisp water. I'm pretty sure it's not a lake or even the Pacific Ocean. The water stretches out into eternity. It never ends. 

This is what I've realized. Every decision I make has consequences that ripple on through this endless ocean. The ripples might appear to dissipate but they do not cease to exist. They carry on in other people. They interact with surrounding environments and forever change the landscape not only of the material world but of the world of thoughts--of paradigms.

I'm looking back at the decision I made to kayak down the Wolf River and I'm wishing that I had put sunscreen on! I was scratching an itch on my shoulder and I felt bumps everywhere on my skin. Let's just say I am blistering. Haha. I'm taking it all very well though. It's just another experience that I will learn from which doesn't in the least take away from the very relaxing and much needed list down the calm and soothing river.

I am waxing poetic a little bit because I spent a few hours in my home town of Clinton, Iowa today. I am taking it upon myself to talk with as many people as I can as I travel. I made a decision earlier today pertaining to what's been mentioned and I'm wondering how it might have turned out differently.

I pulled up to the house I spent the first years of my life in, took a few pictures and walked up the front stairs. A note on the door said something to the affect that there was no smoking permitted on the premises because oxygen machines were in use. It was a note from the Mercy Medical Center of Clinton, Iowa, the hospital that I was born in. 

I'm not usually a very outgoing person as I tend to stay to myself and keep my thoughts close to home, and so I hesitated as I reached out to knock on the door. What would I say if someone answered? Who would it be? I imagined an old fellow hauling a tank behind him answering the door cursing and wondering who in the dickens this long haired freaky person was standing before him. I withdrew my hand and left. I know my imagination isn't what is real, but it greatly impacts what becomes real. I walked away, I suppose because I was nervous about seeing who was behind the door. I wonder why I should have been.

I went to the skatepark afterwards and skated for a few hours. It's like therapy to me to just get on the board and cruise around. There is before a skateboarder as much or little challenge that's desired and endless opportunities to create something that has never been done before. Or at least not been done by yourself yet. But surely that could be said about nearly anything. But than again skating is special to me and I want to represent it in a good light. In fact, I'd say that despite the ruff and tumble nature of it and beyond the facade of curse words, drugs, torn clothes and blood, it is beautiful. It's physical. It's creative. It's demanding. It's relaxing. What else could a person want in life?

After that, I just drove. Believe to or not driving gets old. I stopped several times. I didn't make much headway today. I'm somewhere in Iowa. I'll be at a Kansas thing tomorrow morning. Yeah, it's a carousel museum... Ha! I didn't plan on it, it was just the thing to do in the state of Kansas on the road trip map that comes up when you google "48 states road trip."

Anyway, I'll be crossing Missouri heading east tomorrow after the carousels. The St. Louise Arch is on my docket, along with a mystery place I've yet to tell you about! Then from there I'll be heading toward Mammoth Caves. 

Goodnight.







Day 16: If Only I'd Stayed with Evelyn

 

...You know. I never thought it would come to this. Well, actually that's a lie. The thought did cross my mind back in Willits but it was brief and I didn't entertain it. I didn't much care for the dread that surged through my body when it came into me so I pushed it out. 

A wiser man probably would have planned for this. But than again it takes a fool to get where I'm at. I'm sitting on a cool 720 grand, perched out on top of this mountain pass watching the sun rise over the misty Chapel Lake. There is a little white church house across the way. Quant.

I've got about 2 hours before they find me and I don't really like to think about what they'll do to me if or when that happens. You know that whole dread thing? Yeah.

I have a few options to consider: like maybe, stuffing my pockets with whatever cash I can and driving this Cadillac off the cliff into that lake. I'd make for the hills and hope they don't have dogs. I bet they do. Or there are more... let's just say, grisly alternatives. I might get lucky, but than again I can't remember the last time that happened. Actually, that's a lie too, because even though I have to do something here soon, honestly right at this very moment the only thing I can think about are those blue eyes and possibly getting them to one of those little white chapels one day. A man can dream, right? 

That literally was the "luckiest" day of my life. If Only I'd Stayed with Evelyn.

... is a fictional story I started writing today because I've just been driving and I wanted to post something you guys could sink your teeth into! Haha. I wrote it in about a half an hour on my phone. Trust me, I'm not really sitting on that much cashola. And Evelyn is completely fiction. Willits is real though. I stayed at a Super 8 there, although it did kind of have that odd X-Files type towny feel to it.

Anyway, I'll see you guys tomorrow at my home town of Clinton, Iowa. I'll be there first thing in the morning. Than I'm going west toward this goofy Carousel museum on the border of Kansas so I can head back east through Missouri. After that I have got a surprise for you guys. Not really. But it's something I've wanted to go see for a long time. I might even upload a video about it. But it's probably closed or something like that. We'll see. Either way I'm excited.  

God bless. Goodnight.

Day 15: Our Sunshine Girl

I didn't get a chance to post this last night. So I'm posting it now.

Day 15: Our Sunshine Girl

I will dedicate this post to my sister Laura who passed away when I was about 10. I visited her grave today. This is what it says on the back of the headstone:  

OUR "SUNSHINE GIRL" SHALL RISE IN A GLORIOUS RESURRECTION WHEN EVERY LIMB AND JOINT SHALL BE RESTORED TO IT'S PERFECT FRAME TILL THEN MY LOVE ENJOY WALKING IN THE LIGHT

That's all I am going to report today. It's enough. I will begin my trip again tomorrow. Going to head toward my home town of Clinton, Iowa. See you there!

Day 14: The Harper Valley PTA

Day 14:

I've been spending some time here at the house, so I kind of feel like I shouldn't be posting to a travel log. But I still want to write something here just for the sake of consistency.

But I will keep it brief. I spent the first part of today surveying all of the property here with my dad. The tics are a major concern. They spread Lyme Disease which is a pretty nasty thing to get. So we have these white one piece jumpsuits that we put on over our regular clothes that zip all the way up the front, and then we tuck our pant legs into our socks, spray down with tic spray and wear tall rubber boots. All this so we can trek into the depths of the property without too much worry. We walked the perimeter cutting down and removing any branches or trees that had fallen on to the fence line. It was hot. 

Then we showered and drove around the country side. There are plenty of stories to be told, more than can be told on a brief trip around the county to be sure. "This is where this happened," and "the is where we did this" statements from my dad were repeated nostalgically around every long country block. It was cool.

We came back and did some shooting which is always fun. Then we ate dinner and watched some Ancient Aliens on H2. You know that guy with the hair. Yep.

Now I am in bed and kind of dreading getting up at 6 to go work out. But that's what we're doing so that's what we're doing! I don't think my sunburn will allow me to work out. We'll see...

I will be leaving though, first thing Tuesday morning toward my home town of Clinton, Iowa.

You know, there are some out there who might be critical of me for not observing the Sabbath day today. The truth is I spent the day with a man that I see so infrequently that every time I do I wonder if it will be for the last time. I think God will understand. I don't intend to convince anyone else of anything but if you wanted to know my thoughts further if you just so happen to find it in you to convict me of some injustice, I'd recommend you listen to an oldies song that played on the radio as we were cruising the countryside: The Harper Valley PTA. 

I'm really very tired guys. Goodnight.

Day 13: Fox River

 

Day 13: Fox River

I am feeling the burn. I mean really. I'm burning. Stinging more like it. It's amazing what five hours on the Fox River can do to a person! I am currently three toned right now. Tan, white, and red. But I can't say that it wasn't worth it. Saw some Eagles, turtles, and ducks! There is nothing quite like relaxing on a lazy river just taking in the country side and casually chatting with whomever happens to be listing next to you at the time. It was cool.

It's really been a lazy day in general. Talked with family and friends, ate some apple-bar, and shot a long now. I can't really complain. 

I'm uncertain what day I'll be heading out but I will keep you guys posted. 

And also I just wanted to say thank you. Thanks for all your comments, likes, texts, and your support. I am having the time of my life out here and having you guys backing me up the whole way makes it just that much better! 

Peace.


Day 12: A Magic Show

Day 12: A Magic Show

It was about 5am when I rolled up to the property here in Wisconsin. The darkness, the unsure stillness of the country night grasps the imagination. I remember working on this house out here when there were tarps covering gaping holes in it's frame and when the termite infested wood quivered in the wind. The inside was nearly the same as the outside. Mosquitos feasted on you while you slept, snakes and rats and roaches and spiders, all seeming to be unaware that they weren't welcome crept through my abode. But who am I to tell nature where it is and isn't welcome. 

As the winds howled and tore through halls racing up and down the stairs, every once and awhile I would, in my restless nature step out into the darkness and just gaze into the deep of the countryside. I imagined large beasts, wild and ferocious, sometimes maybe patient and observing looking back at me and I would think that there was nothing between me and them. My lone body standing as I often did completely alone for unknown distances around, peering out into a vast dark society where creatures continually stirred. It was terrifying. But I welcomed the feeling. 

Now there is somewhat of a sense of security that this house is finished. In order for me to even get outside I have to maneuver a large and thorough security system that won't hesitate to send the police in a moments notice. 

But still. It is a strange thing, the country. I was adventuring out around the property earlier today, taking in all the borders of our land. After thoroughly spraying myself down with mosquito and tic repellent I trekked across the fields and entered the woods. Not having my waders I steered clear of the swamp. The trees were my main focus. 

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Here I am on the move, in a different state nearly everyday trying to learn and make sense of my life, and then there are these trees, ever still and ever growing. They just stand there, take in the sun and spread their roots wherever they happen to be. I wonder if the trees engage in, unheard by human ears great theological discussion about where they came from and who they are. I can't say for certain that they don't, but I'm pretty sure they don't spend a great deal of time worrying about what to wear.

I found a good place to sit and I meditated for an hour or so. I tell you. You want to see a magic show. Go sit in nature for an hour. I mean just sit there doing nothing else. Not fishing, not hunting, or hiking even. Just be there. Things start to disappear. What starts to disappear, you ask? As simply as I can put it, things that are unimportant. And things that are quiet, that don't ask for attention or to be made into a spectacle start to materialize out of nowhere. Then a truth descends upon your mind as you realize that they've been there the whole time, silently growing, waiting, taking in the sun and just being the best that they can be wherever they are irrespective of all the trauma and horrendous things taking place all around them. 

You know I would say that it's a good thing to do for the soul and in general it promotes the welfare of an individual, but more so than for ourselves I think we owe it to those things, the invisible things that seem to be only there when we take the time to stop and just be where we are, those things that are just naturally good at being. How sad would it be if those things actually existed but no one ever knew about them or took the time to find them. What are these things? They are ideas, they are metaphors, they are trees, they are angels, they are spirits, they are principles, they are truths. You might say from this vantage point reading along this narrative that there would indeed be another reality, finer and more fundamental than what is continually before our senses, but could in a way never be known or proven to exist. 

For the most part I had the whole day to myself. I've been reading, sleeping,  exploring and thinking. I wonder if you can tell.

Day 11: Dakota 5-0

 

Day 11: Dakota 5-0

Other than the fact that I realized that I posted Day 10 accidentally in my Writs and Rants blog instead of my travel log today has been a pretty good day. Long but good. But I don't think many people can understand how much that bothers me that it's in the wrong blog! The way I can feel somewhat ok about it is that it was more of a rant than a travel update. I blame it completely on the fact that I am using my phone for this whole process. Just breathe. 

Ok. here is my day. 

I finally got pulled over. It was last night after I posted my day 10(in the wrong blog...) It was around midnight. I had stopped in a small city a half hour out of Sioux Falls. I was looking for a gas station, wasn't smoking weed, passed a gas station, wasn't smuggling blow, did a u-turn, was unfortunately listening to Pitbull on the radio, and then pulled into the gas station. That's when I saw the light. Lights actually, very colorful lights swirling around in my rear view mirror coming from two different patrol cars. Did you happen to notice which one of those things warranted getting pulled over? It wasn't, like I originally suspected, because I was listening to Pitbull. 

Yep, it was because I made a U-turn.

Now, I'm always fighting an up hill battle with the po-po because for one, I have long hair, and two, I always have dark circles under my eyes, and three, I just naturally look high and sometimes act like I'm slightly stoned depending on what phase of the moon is in the sky. But I can't help this. 

All of that on top of the fact that I'm certain they are trained to bewilder you with odd questions. I had one of them on either side of my car, flash lights drawn and blazing through my vehicle, both asking me questions at the same time. 

Long story short, I had a very pleasant conversation with the very nice, not to mention attractive in a cop sort of way, lady 5-0 who let me sit in the front seat of her cruiser while her backup spent a half an hour searching my vehicle for narcotics.

We listened to Taylor Swift and talked about couch surfing. And I tell you that there are sweet little victories in life. Most of them we don't even realize are victories until they happen and I'm just saying that hearing an officers voice change from police mode to regular person mode is a very triumphant feeling. And it was all before they verified the star crunch and cosmic brownies that I was stowing away were grade Little Debbie.

That makes three times my vehicle has been search for narcotics. You know what that means? That means I am 3 and 0 baby!

After it was all over I was notified that I was quite the celebrity. The gas station clerk came out as soon as the cops left and told me that they were watching me on the security cameras and making bets as to whether I would get hauled off or not! Also the lady pointed across the parking lot to a herd of people walking out of the karaoke bar. She notified me that the bar closed a half hour ago but nobody wanted to leave cuz they were all drunk! Now that the cops were gone they could go home!

Oh the lives we live. 

That was all before I went to sleep. I found my way to a rest stop and slept. Upon waking up I made way to Ashfall fossil beds in Nebraska. 

The fossil beds were very interesting. The whole process is just fascinating and the science to it is remarkable. At roughly the same elevation throughout most of the North American continent we see about two feet of ash that is distinct from Mt. Saint Helen and the Yellowstone caldera eruptions. It's from the Idaho Bruneau-Jarbidge Super volcano that erupted around 12 million years ago. 

The ash not only looks different under a microscope from the other two volcanoes' ash but it's chemical composition is consistent across the board anywhere you look at that specific elevation. Call me less than thorough but I can't for the life of me remember what that elevation was and I'm not going to hazard a guess because I'm tired and I'd probably say something ridiculous. 

This 12 million is not to be confused with the 12 or so thousand years ago where the native horses and rhinoceroses in the Americas, and even camels went extinct. I had no idea that camels originated from the Americas, and eventually split into the South American version which is now the llama and the two African and Asian versions which are respectively the single humped dromedaries, and the double humped Bactrian camels. 

I left the fossil beds very satisfied and with a new perspective on epoch timescales. My timescale of driving measured in hours is nearly imperceptible on the immense geological timescale but to my perspective it is still epoch as I am gearing up for the final stretch toward the Winterfeldt house there in Wisconsin. I'll be there in about three or so hours. It'll be about 3 in the morning. Mountain Dew Kickstarter do good by me or else. It's the only energy drink available at this rest stop.

Well, goodnight my dear readers. Until tomorrow.

Love.




 

Day 9: Star Crunch

Day 9:

 

I am in Bismarck, ND. I have taken a little vacation from driving and am doing some soul searching. I have to apologize because I am not feeling very well and I don’t want to write much. But fortunately there is not much to report anyway, unless you’re interested in my very brief trek into the foreign lands of Kmart, which is valiantly staving off extinction by the way. From a quick evaluation of the inner walls of the place it looks to be in its death throes though. But I didn’t let that stop me from leaving the premises with a box of Star Crunch. Speaking of stars… to be continued...

Day 8: Badlands

 

I drove through Theodore Roosevelt National Park today. The badlands were pretty cool. Prairie dogs and buffalo. What else do you need? Other than that there is not much to report today. Driving mixed in with a little more driving, that's about it. 

Although it is still early. I still have three hours till midnight. I decided to call it an early night though because I wanted some time to breathe and read. I'm currently reading Guns, Germs, and Steel. Oh and also The Fault in our Stars. I've had it for awhile but it hasn't been a priority. Augustus just got word back from Peter Van Houten, the author of An Imperial Affliction and he gave Hazel his email address. She has composed and sent her own letter to Mr. Houten to try and get answers that were never addressed in the book. Now she is waiting nervously for a reply. It was at this point that I realized it was too dark outside on the bench at a rest stop outside of Bismarck to keep reading. So I turned in for the night and began typing this post... On my phone. 

I will probably finish the chapter and then start reading Guns Germs and Steel. Jared Diamond is tactfully trying to asses why some cultures developed all sorts of technology or "cargo" while others even to this day remain in the Stone Age. It is quite the hefty read but worth it.

You know, I am really having a great time out here. And I just wanted to say thank you, all of you who are following along with my trip. You guys are the best! 

Good night.

Day 7: Getting in Touch with Mama

Day 7

 

You know how I said that I didn’t have a lot to report? Well, I spoke too soon. But I guess technically day six was pretty uneventful since it was after midnight that I had another interesting happening. I was worried about the battery charge on my laptop. You remember that I can’t turn it off or let it die otherwise it crashes and won’t turn back on until I perform some mystical voodoo chant over it and do a rain dance out on the hills of Big Sky Country around a dwindling fire while holding it above my head. That’s about what it feels like I have to do in order to get it operational again. So I posted my day six and went in to the rest stop area where there was an outlet that I could use.

 

I was writing some rants that were blazing through my head. People were walking in and out for over an hour it seemed when one of those people came over and started talking to me. He had payot, or sidecurls dangling down on either side of his face. He told me that he was coming from Seattle, but that he was from New York and we began talking about our travels.

 

He was telling me all about how to get cheap flights to anywhere and all of his traveling secrets. He kept referring to “Mama” throughout the conversation and it became apparent to me that he thought that it was sometimes difficult to get in touch with her. It took me a little while to figure out that he was talking about mother nature! I laughed out loud when that realization descended upon my mind and it all began to make sense.

 

I told him that I was coming out of Utah and that I drove through Zion’s. I asked him if he had been there. Long story short he’s apparently been everywhere as traveling is what he does, but he smirked when I ask him the question and he said, “where do you think I am now?”

 

Confused, I replied, “Butte, Montana?”

 

“No, I’m in Zion! My soul is always in Zion,” He said as he patted his chest with a goofy grin on his face.

 

He started talking about his children and his wife who were strict observers of the Jewish tradition, but he, and this took me off guard slightly, admitted to being a “perfect atheist.”

 

When he said those words his tone changed and a grave look came over his face. And honestly a chill shot through my body as I was not expecting him to say that in the least the way he was talking earlier. Picking up on his mannerisms and his demeanor as he began explaining to me in very searched out ways how, if there is a God, he is nothing but a crook and that there is no reason whatsoever to believe in or honor the type of God that rules this world. “He had no right to create me,” he kept saying, “And any joys or happiness that are in store, I don’t want it. The pain is not worth it. I would rather not exist.”

 

Have you ever talked with someone who would rather not exist? First of all it is quite heartbreaking. I didn’t say much for over two hours while he just talked.

 

He told me a story about a time when he thought that he would die. And the moral of the story was that he was proud that he didn’t break down at the end of it and beg God for help. In fact he continued to curse God through out the whole process.

 

Trying to gauge his mental state, I eventually and careful interjected and pointed out that he wasn’t an atheist, much less a perfect one as he had put it. I got him to admit that cursing God meant that he believed in God. You know, out of all of the philosophical avenues that he so thoroughly explained to me against God he apparently never gave much thought to the actual definition of what an atheist is.

 

He continued and I continued to listen. Why did I sit there and take it? Because I knew that he couldn’t say anything to me that I already hadn’t wrestled with in my own soul, and if he could I wanted to hear it for my own sake. And in honesty I felt as though that he wasn’t trying to tear down my faith as much as he was releasing pent up emotions. I was his therapist in a sense.

 

That said the whole conversation as one sided as it was, was rather sad, and there was a moment when I thought perhaps that this man was an apparition with a vendetta against God sent by the devil to tear me down. But a firm handshake put that theory to rest.

 

After awhile of silence, he brought up the fact that Utah is full of Mormons. Explaining to him that I was one and also a Christian I noted that he accepted it but found it odd that Mormon’s were also Christians.

 

The whole time I was praying to know what I should say to him, but all I could think was that I just needed to listen. At the end of it I finally began to leave. I wished him well and that I didn’t know how to answer all of his questions. I just left him with a simple testimony. I walked out to my car and I realized that I had some pass along cards that I always take with me on trips. I waited for him to come back outside, took a deep breath and handed him a Finding Faith in Christ card.

 

I emphasized that it was only if he was interested. He took it and looked at me intently and said “I am. I am. I am,” nodding his head.

 

I had planned on staying the night at this rest stop, and even though my heart was going out to this man I wasn’t exactly the most comfortable sleeping in the very next parking spot down from his. So I told him that I was hitting the road, shook his hand again and wished him well.

 

I set out on the road and before I made it to the freeway I broke down and cried. I have no conflict as to what I believe. My testimony is strong. But here we are as complex individuals given our brains to try and make sense of all of the terrible things that we can experience in life and often times events take place that we just can’t process rationally.

 

Looking back, I remember a time when I was astounded at what it is that I could feel. Pain can be nearly unfathomable. And what do people do short of killing themselves. Sometimes we curse God from the darkest abyss of our being or from the parking lot of Mormon church of which I found myself last night. It wasn’t the first time I’d spent the night in the back seat of my car in a church lot.

 

But this night I prayed for that man. Than I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning and took the Sacrament. I continued my journey and was strangely still really tired so I pulled off of the road and went back to sleep. Needless to say that I didn’t make it far today. But I did make it to a boulder over-looking the setting sun of Montana, of which is where I am writing this. And sadly this might be the last time I have a laptop to write with as my laptop charging cord mysteriously was severed so it will certainly die this night. In fact I have only thirteen percent left to finish this post and publish it before it is gone, maybe for good.

 

So, I don’t have time to review this, or say much else. But with the last words that I write for now on an imminently dying computer, I’d say that the sunset was beautiful and I wish everyone could sit on boulder in the middle of nowhere with the sentiments of faith, love, life and death surging through their hearts as they are surging through mine at this very moment, and see what it was that I saw this night. It was heavenly.

 

Goodnight.

Day 6: Pray for our Firefighters

Day 6: Pray for our Firefighters

 

I am just outside of Butte Montana and honestly I don’t have a lot to report. I’ve just been driving. I did drive through some intense smoke and ash earlier today. Been seeing “pray for our firefighters” and “we love our firefighters” signs, so that would be a good thing to do, pray for them, that is. I don’t really know to what extent these forest fires have spread but from what I’m hearing on the radio and what I drove through earlier it seems pretty bad. In fact I actually changed my plans because of the fires. I was planning on going up to Glacier National Park but a good portion of the highway was shut down so I started for Butte instead. So, let’s direct some of our thoughts to the people immediately impacted by these fires. Share the love.

 

But other than that I think that’s all I’m gonna write for today in my Travel Log. I’ve been wanting to do some other writing that I’m going to attend to at this time. Thanks and I’ll see you tomorrow.

 

Love.

Day 5: Be an Accountant

Day 5 Be an Accountant

 

I had my first couch surfing experience. It was crazy. I pulled up to Randy’s house late, a little after midnight. Randy is a middle aged African American and his best friend is a white male with swastika tattoos on his arms. He had just gotten off work as I got to his house and he was gracious enough to take me in even after the short notice I gave him. He was standing outside with his friend when I walked up his driveway with my backpack on. The warm smell of cannabis was wafting through the air. I shook their hands and without hesitation he showed me into his home. I sat down and talked with him and his friend in the front room for a few minutes.

 

Tall cans of Bud Light sat half drunk on the coffee table. His friend pulled out a vaporizer and a jar of weed, made a remark about how crazy Randy was for letting strangers stay at his place and walked outside on the balcony to smoke.  After a few words he showed me where I was going to sleep. He had offered me his own room and he was planning on sleeping on the couch that night. I started to say that it wasn’t necessary but he insisted. I gratefully accepted his room. I looked around a bit. There were dragons in his room, odd books with “Lucifer” in their titles and other strange things decorating his shelves and walls.

 

Not wanting to sleep on his bed I took to the floor and closed my eyes. I could hear the two of them talking outside until I fell asleep, the last thing I remember hearing was something about a mother $%#ing tarantula crawling into someone’s mouth while that person slept and that person eating it in his sleep. You know, I think a lot of people would find this situation very uncomfortable, but I really wasn’t too nervous, just tired and grateful for the hospitality.

 

I woke up the next morning thinking about the Space Needle and how I was going to be there later that day. I gathered my things and headed down stairs. Randy was in his front room, shirtless and watching a Yogi on TV talk about the essence of being and the purpose of life. Intrigued, because, if you don’t know this about me yet, those two things are practically all I think about, I sat down and asked him if he followed any Indian religions. I was stunned by his answer.

 

He didn’t but he had a lot to say on the whole matter. I just listened delightedly, only occasionally chiming in. Long story short, I had one of the most interesting conversations that I’ve ever had in my life. I didn’t really feel that it was necessary to bring up Mormonism, but we just had a good theological discussion throughout. At the end of it I asked him if he had any words of wisdom for me as I departed. He said, “Be an accountant,” than immediately pulled out a piece of paper that he had made with a little diagram on it of many of the main facets in life we should keep an accounting of. It was very interesting. After telling me all about it I slipped it into my back pack and started to head for the door. He was going to work as I was leaving so he followed me out. I shook his hand and thanked him for the hospitably and as I was heading toward my car he asked in a soft tone, “you’re not Mormon are you?”

Surprised, I said that I was and that I didn’t think many people would recognize me as one. He said, “me either.”

 

Turns out Randy is an active member of the LDS church. In his driveway he began to cite Doctrine and Covenant verse to me to verify everything we were talking about just moments earlier! I couldn’t believe it.

 

After being blown away by the character of this man he eventually left for his work and I left to continue my trek throughout the states. I made it to the Space Needle a little after 5pm I think. And let me tell you, my experience in Seattle was just so much better than my experience in San Francisco. First of all, without even searching I accidently pulled into a very affordable parking area with plenty of open spots right next to the Space Needle. I made my way through a very artsy city block and just felt at ease with everything around me. I purchased a ticket and made my way to the top.

 

The ticket was cheap, the line was short, the elevator girl was cute, and the Seattle Dog was delicious. I even made some Peruvian friends at the top. They were an old couple eating ice-cream that had asked to share the table I was sitting at. They were just ecstatic that I was traveling and they began to tell me all their own traveling stories.

 

You know, the sites truly are incredible, but what is making this trip for me is the people. Everyone has so many things to share and is eager to share them if you open up to them. Everyone has their own outlook on life and to me that is beautiful. It is what makes the world dynamic and interesting live in.

 

Well, that’s about all I have for tonight. I am currently somewhere in Washington in the back seat of my car, tired and ready for bed. Goodnight and thank you.