How I Imagined it Today
There's not much point in dancing around it. My days of having a shot at shaving adds and Margot Robbie are over. Youth and physical beauty have passed me by and at this point I am holding on to mental and physical ability like a life preserver tossed over the side of Noah's ark.
At the age when I can see the light at the end of the working tunnel and wonder what comes next I see me and my old truck, racking up another 100,000 miles, driving back and forth to various forest ridges I like to frequent. I do the simple maintenance and hire someone I know and trust to do the not so simple maintenance (My neighbor Hakim seems pretty handy and he did offer. Great guy so far. Glad he moved in...). My boots will probably get replaced one more time but my haversack is set. I need a new woodsing shirt but my tan BDU's are here to stay.
I'll putter around the house, doing something to keep my mind busy. Writing may be a thing again. I may take up knife making one more time, this time with nothing to prove. I feel like there are lessons and life to pass on before the library burns down and the ride is over.
Once or twice a week I'll make a sandwich and pack my small bit of personally important kit into my shoulder bag and go hike out whatever ridge is on my schedule for the week. I'll drop my cushion and lean on a tree and listen while the bird sing as the light comes up. And then I'll just lean for a while. Odds are by then I'll be back into writing as a creative thing and maybe make notes out there in trees. I may carve something or just split up some sticks and start a small fire in my stove. I'll make a coffee and have my breakfast bar and break out my book if it's sunny. If not, wrap up in my poncho and wait for rain.
It's usually my absolute joy to remember how I got there. Not just the day's journey but the people who taught me things and led me on experiences that drove me to that place. When I was too little to go by myself my Grandfather took me fishing. When I was 10 and we lived in a house with woods behind our yard and I was allowed to wander. When I was 15 and Mrs. Arnold taught the lesson about Hemmingway and Big Two-Hearted River made me aware of a time and world I had never imagined. When, at 19, I experienced black powder rifles for the first time which led to, at 20, meeting my first wife. My then father in law putting a shotgun in my hand and walking me into the woods with a purpose and awareness. And all of the years that have followed since then. The move to college at 24. The return to hunting at 35. The ideas of bushcraft, forest bathing, and self care all in the last 20 years. This has all led me to the leaning tree, reading a book, sipping my coffee. This is how imagine it to be. I will imagine again and it will be different in some ways. The path will change and grow. I may not. For now though, I am getting ready for this next part.