Running Horse's blog

On this lil road trip thru my memories I invite you, my groovy readers, to journey back yet further with me, back to the tender age of 14. See here my time machine is ready as am I. The only question left to be answered is, are you?

14. Was an age of major upheaval in my life. It was at that age that I really began to question everything I'd ever been told as doctrine in my life. It all started three weeks after I'd turned 14 when my parents took me to my second oldest brother's for Thanksgiving. My brother put me up in his den and in one corner was his entire tape/ CD collection. Being curious that night I took a CD off the shelf and popped it in my portable player, put my headphones in, lay back, and closed my eyes. At first I couldn't tell if it was music or if my heartbeat was just ridiculously loud. Then the voices came and the screaming started. My eyelids flew open and I frantically around the room trying to discern the source of such cacophony. As I realized it was just the music I lay back down and settled in. These strange otherworldly tones began to weave pictures in my mind's eye and I went to places I never would've dreamed existed. I had just experienced Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon for the first time in my life and had my young mind blown. Up to this point I'd only ever been exposed to music along the lines of country, classical, and gospel. This new wild music stuck in my mind, perhaps in my very soul and I wanted more. That night a few rocks had been loosed and those rocks would build into a landslide that soon enough would have no hope of being stopped.

The final massive shake would come in August of the next year. At the time I was in show choir at my school and we were invited to go to New York City to sing on the CBS Morning Show. While there we went on a tour of the city and I found myself talking to the bus driver, who was an old hippy. He handed me a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and told me to keep searching and questioning. The real quake didn't come until I found myself sitting at Strawberry Fields. It was there that I met a group of old hippies who pulled me off into the "woods" with them to smoke my first joint, and bong. They told me many things and declared me to be John Lennon reincarnate. They encouraged me to tune in and drop out, to never accept what I'm told on blind faith and to find me and just be that.

After that trip I began really questioning everything. I stopped attending church and when I could get away with it, school. I began researching hippy culture and other ways of thought and being.

Next time we'll delve further into that transformative year and the ripples that have continued to spread thru my life from it.

Until thrn my groovy readers
Much peace n love
RH

It is a beautiful morning, so much to appreciate. As I watch the sparrows scrabble for their breakfast, see the chickens moving deftly thru the grass scratching up the bugs underneath, hear the goat's call from the neighboring paddock, listen to the leaves rustle gently in the morning breeze I am reminded of a morning, many years ago now, when I experienced such beauty, up close and personal, for the first time. A tent, an old tye dye bean bag turned knapsack, a meandering river, and nothing to awaken me but the sounds of nature and the rhythmic pulse of my own breathing.

How had I found myself in this moment? It was no camping trip, that I can assure you. When I turned 18 I made the decision to drop out of high school, pack my personal items that I felt I couldn't do without and leave home. I walked a mile outside of town, into the woods, set up a campsite and vowed to live off the land. I was young and dumb and had no real understanding of what such life entailed but what better way is there to learn than to simply do?

As I awoke that first morning and rolled out of my two man tent I was greeted by a rabbit, staring one eyed at me no more than 10 feet away. In that moment I understood my first lesson. Life doesn't care about you. The deepest beauty of life is in it's autonomy and the purest way to live is simply to be a part of that autonomy. To be seamlessly woven into the fabric of nature around you. In that moment I was at peace, still and tranquil, and because of this my presence did not disturb the rabbit unduly. After a few moments pause it continued on it's way likely in search of breakfast.

I spent that morning bathing in the river. I recall there was a moment of shock as I felt something nibble at my foot in the midst of scrubbing my hair. I thrashed in surprise only to realize that it was a fish. Then I waited and after a bit the fish came back and not alone. There were things on my legs which he found tasty and he'd made sure to tell his pals that breakfast was served. This time I did not fight. I allowed their cleaning and perhaps even began to enjoy it.

In that morning I was free. Free from the rigors of life, the expectancy of others and of self, free to pursue each moment as I saw fit. As I experienced the world unfiltered I realized what has become, for me, the deepest truth. That I am meant just to be, not to strive against the ebbs and flows of the current of existence, instead to flow and ebb with them. Conflict is inevitable yet there need be no conflict between myself and life. I need only be in wu wei (action thru non-action) and all will be with me.

Namaste
RH

Wanderlust, what a powerful force yes? That burning desire to simply find things, to be a part of the world not just in the world. Perhaps wanderlust is not just a state of mind but a state of the soul, a state of being. A seeking after truth, letting oneself be caught up in the river and flowing with it to personal meaning, personal truth.

Yet what is truth? Is it a statement of absolutes or is it a declaration of self? Is it true to say that we, as people, are in the world? Truer to say that we are of the world? Perhaps we are the world, the consciousness that brings meaning to it?

These questions and more have long weighed upon my heart, long burned within my mind. In this blog I will endeavor to convey my thoughts as cemented by my own life experiences. If such things would appeal to you then by all means pull up a chair, share some wine with me, and hit that like button.

Namaste
RH

What is fate?
The inevitable last sigh of life?
The premonition of one in time?
The clarion call of silence at the end of all?
The dying of the light as darkness reigns?
Only those who walk it's way may know.

What is suffering?
The pain one feels at that last sigh?
The doom one feels with foretold design?
The scratching within when silence calls?
The seeking of light within darkness stains?
Only those who walk it's way may know.

What is rage?
The screaming denial of that final sigh?
The violent refusal of that impending design?
The howling rebuke of silence's vile call?
The extinguished light when darkness falls?
Only those who walk it's way may know.

I am a spirit of suffering
I call it forth into time
I accept it's ties that bind
I walk it's way that others need not find
The meaning contained within it's dreams......