The universe has never felt like a warm place to me.
Call it teenage apathy (guilty) or a sense of superiority caused by trauma that, at the time, I felt made me more deserving of my depression than others (twice as guilty). Better yet, call it a lack of confidence that sucked the warmth from my heart, thus projecting that inner coldness into a world that never really did me any true harm.
Whatever the cause of my selfish condition, I've always done very little to combat it. I've always made it a point to surround myself with poor company (in an emotional sense, of course) and have swallowed all efforts at healing and growth with a grimace and a well placed though never genuine "I'm working on it."
My deepest gratitude to the high sierras. My deepest gratitude to Arktau Eos, Waldteufel, Hail, Fell Voices and all of the wonderful people who performed for us for three dry, unforgettable days and nights.
I cannot explain my overwhelming desire to hail it all...
Sleeping beneath the brightest stars in a half-collapsed tent with nothing to see me off but the far-away howling of trains in their tunnels and the low, dying laughter of a hand-made fire. Brisk mornings with shrinking shadows and a sun that strains to reach over tree-lined peaks. Rivers that embrace with a touch colder than Kentucky snow and sunning rocks that pull the trembling from your flesh. Drums that roll and crash through the twisting caverns and broken stones, voices singing, tongues spitting enchantments, flesh plucking string and a whole sea of people remembering what it means to be one.
A tribe of Finnish 'soldiers' with true smiles. A guide full of lessons, warm gestures, wine and an honesty so refreshing that I dare say he may be gifted my greatest gratitude. "Thti", "Maa", "Yhteys", "Hiiloos" and many forgotten words I swear I'll speak again. A lucid flood of memories triggered by something as simple as a key and a packed, red-lit bus whose tastes of rum and smoke and growling folk music made me know I was meant to be there in a moment I nearly wished would never end.
Thank-You.
If we never meet again, at least now I'll know the world is not a cold, forgotten place.
Call it teenage apathy (guilty) or a sense of superiority caused by trauma that, at the time, I felt made me more deserving of my depression than others (twice as guilty). Better yet, call it a lack of confidence that sucked the warmth from my heart, thus projecting that inner coldness into a world that never really did me any true harm.
Whatever the cause of my selfish condition, I've always done very little to combat it. I've always made it a point to surround myself with poor company (in an emotional sense, of course) and have swallowed all efforts at healing and growth with a grimace and a well placed though never genuine "I'm working on it."
My deepest gratitude to the high sierras. My deepest gratitude to Arktau Eos, Waldteufel, Hail, Fell Voices and all of the wonderful people who performed for us for three dry, unforgettable days and nights.
I cannot explain my overwhelming desire to hail it all...
Sleeping beneath the brightest stars in a half-collapsed tent with nothing to see me off but the far-away howling of trains in their tunnels and the low, dying laughter of a hand-made fire. Brisk mornings with shrinking shadows and a sun that strains to reach over tree-lined peaks. Rivers that embrace with a touch colder than Kentucky snow and sunning rocks that pull the trembling from your flesh. Drums that roll and crash through the twisting caverns and broken stones, voices singing, tongues spitting enchantments, flesh plucking string and a whole sea of people remembering what it means to be one.
A tribe of Finnish 'soldiers' with true smiles. A guide full of lessons, warm gestures, wine and an honesty so refreshing that I dare say he may be gifted my greatest gratitude. "Thti", "Maa", "Yhteys", "Hiiloos" and many forgotten words I swear I'll speak again. A lucid flood of memories triggered by something as simple as a key and a packed, red-lit bus whose tastes of rum and smoke and growling folk music made me know I was meant to be there in a moment I nearly wished would never end.
Thank-You.
If we never meet again, at least now I'll know the world is not a cold, forgotten place.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
This might be the only photo taken by anyone where I'm in it...
Tot the far left, you can spot my Finnish companion by the blonde stubble head and the admirable height... and I'm that terribly small, tatted thing in a black tank top. We were quite literally at a concert in the middle of the forest for a week.
http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/66540_4468327517134_573064289_n.jpg -- These hooded Finns lulled me to sleep my final night there.