For all the words I’ve laid out—and how recently!—regarding the inevitability of change, I can sometimes be thoroughly set against it. That’s how it was when I realized, a few months back, that this Salon would be my last.
I could go on and on, with explanations and justifications, but what would be the point?
For some time now I have felt a growing tug of war between my online and offline existences. Online is where I can connect with freedom-loving individuals from around the world. It’s also the easiest way to keep in touch with the fellow travelers who are closest to me, since “closest” still requires that over 15% of a day be given to travel. Despite the incompleteness and attendant frustrations of online communications, it is much better than being without ... or is it? The more plugged in I am, the less attuned I am to the flow and rhythms of life around me. Balance has never been an easy accomplishment for me—especially since I know there are myriad wonders to be discovered online still, and even more to blossom in the days ahead. It requires a much stronger will than mine to unplug from such allure.
In retrospect, it seems vainglorious to have thought I could monetize—even just a little—what is essentially slightly more focused blogging. But then, more people have wandered in and read bits of my being than I ever dreamed possible ... yet even that datum says little about the quality of this content. I suspect I will never be a sufficiently insightful observer, nor a deft enough wordsmith, to rise above the madding crowd. Maybe it could be worth a try, but then what would happen to my cooking? My explorations into needle crafts, watercolors, stained glass? My gardening? My children?
No, there’s nothing inherently more interesting about my life—the books I read, the music I like, the people with whom I talk—than anyone else’s. It was vainglory to think elsewise. I think I will always be a rebel, but I am at least starting to get a clue ... But—again!—enough going on about me.
When I commenced creating this issue, fellow freedom lover Mike Gogulski was running down a dream—just a few steps from becoming a stateless person. He has since crossed that line, but our conversation still provides interesting back story, and in true serpentine fashion undulates through several other topics. I owe Mike deep apologies for delaying this interview’s publication for so long, and everlasting gratitude for his patience and understanding when I told him why I was having such a challenging time.
Also available are my typical outpourings of musical ramblings and webby explorations. A varied clutch of books also got some attention from me: Symbols Flow by George Potter; Your Sacred Self by Wayne Dyer; Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire; and the most inexplicably moving biography I have read, The Woman and the Dynamo.
I will almost certainly take up these subjects at some point over at my place, albeit less formally than I have here; and certainly not hoarding essays so as to dump a lump of stuff on one all at once. Also, a conversation is much easier to engage in there; I consider that a good thing. If I can re-establish email contact with him, I intend to honor my commitment of extracting an interview from Butler Shaffer, for one thing. But ... not for a while. Though I have known this day was coming for some time, its sharpness still pricks; I cling to what has become familiar, all the while knowing I need to step into the great wide open.
Fin. Thank you, more deeply and tenderly than words can convey. And ...