The Final Walk

I hold this idea in my mind of a final walk into Grand Canyon, never to return. It’s not to the level of a plan, just an idea that persists of how to face the end of all things. It comes to mind a lot more these days, as it does during unfulfilling times. I lost the thread in life that kept me, and it feels like time to let go of this earthly realm, to cease these patterns that didn’t amount to anything worthy of love.

The final walk is a better way to face mortality than what this world usually allows. It seems as age sets in, what comes with it is an obligation to live life as a example to other people. Ideologues and demagogues then find a reason to manipulate perception to control how people appear to meet their fates. If you lived a life not in keeping with their values, they try to destroy you or isolate you or kill chances at love in your life. And if that fails? They at least destroy the perception among their peeps that you are a person worthy of love and friendship. It’s not that the false perception changes the truth or that a freer spirit buys into their cage of lies, it’s just that it makes finding footing harder. The final walk is not giving up, but a realization that it provides all the footing needed to exit a world failing at love.

I haven’t written a blog for some time, lost the thread here too. I’ve been working on an anthology of old stories but the going is tough. I don’t really believe in it, and it feels more like an epitaph than a celebration of the art of writing or my dedication to those skills and ideals I practiced in my life. In America, the arts are a fat diva who forgot the words or a millennial earning over 100k a year who rebels against the system by downloading pirated copies of Game of Thrones. No one gets it anymore.

There’s an idea that writing creatively or hiking a trail is its own reward, that it helps keep you healthy in mind and body. Maybe that’s just because it’s an escape from the drudgery of life and the dregs of humanity, but now the drags and the dregs follow you out onto the trail. They want to be healthy too, but it’s such a long path and until they get farther along there’s a lot of curmudgeon to bear witness to. Pretty soon their way of thinking starts to become yours. City think in the wilds.

I lived a life that no one gets, and I’m okay with that. The final walk seems a fitting end, whenever that may be. Maybe I will write more here, maybe I will get that anthology out in some form, but I don’t think I will ever reach anyone again or that anyone will reach me.

January 3, 2017