The Pilgrim

There is a woman on an important pilgrimage through perilous jagged mountain paths. She started deep within a valley and traversed many rivers, hills and dales to get to that height. Yet her determination and focus keeps her going further. On a wet day, with the wind blowing rain sideways, her strength starts to waver. Her feet and hands are numb. Her frail pack is more patches than not. A gust of wind takes off her tattered straw hat. A raven croaks and lightning strikes! She stumbles, her ankle twists and she tumbles down the cliff side taking craggy trees and sharp stones with her. Finally, she comes to rest inches deep in the body of a freezing river. She tests herself. She is bruised. Her thread-bare pack has disappeared, but there was little left of it anyway. She can stand, she can walk, but her passage forward is no where in sight. She smiles, perhaps this new path will take her where she needs to go.

Portland is Leaving

Later on in university it felt like I was an astronaut floating almost away, tethered in but out of control. Soon after I met Laura, and she felt like my lifeline there. I felt like I could connect better with others those days. Since then, I've just lost control. I tried dating briefly about a year ago but I felt so aloof to their problems and often my own. Now again I feel disconnected from reality. Like stepping out in the noon sun and feeling nothing. Plants wither in the heat and sadness surrounds you and I feel that.

Mint, lavender, oregano, and rosemary have thrived. I know, but their energy is unsolved

Invisible forces chase you through parkades. Allies are enemies and then allies again. Hidden experiments and secret conversations are behind every door. Monte Carlo opens a door and every discovery invokes anxiety. Fear and terror. Now I open my eyes and need to lie awake before I pee.

What is the fiction of my dreams, the force of my ramblings and reality of the situation? What connection do I hold with every happy family on the block?

Summer heat in Portland is bad right now. I feel back in Australia. Sad, lost, wide-eyed. Tomorrow I ride back home. I cannot wait for my bed.

Editor's note

I guess I'm trying to find my voice again. Please bear with me. I'm a bit older but barely wise. I hope to find what I had before. Let me know if you're out there.

Moments

The night was calm and the sky was speckled with urban stars. It spelled cool and decisive with sunset far gone and the morning still impossibly far away. I shivered as I took my keys out and started unlocking my bike. Anthony stood over me as I asked about his plans to get home. The bus will be here soon, he replies stoically.

Earlier in the evening we had jovially been drinking beers and playing board games. Each moment was spent deciding on pitchers to order together or outsmarting each other. We had arrived with such energy and enthusiasm which quietly died down as the games concluded and the winners were sorted out.

During the day I was not sure I'd make it to the bar, or really, through the hour. Mostly the couch was kept warm, my hands mindlessly swiping through the internet. I wanted to do more, but never knew what, or why I would do it. Before leaving I pulled out a tray, small bag and paper and concluded the whole day, the whole life, may not be a waste.

Putting my pannier on the bike rack, I looked at Anthony and slurred out, "Want to go around the corner?" He gave a winking grin and we stepped aside for a couple quiet minutes. Soon the smoke cleared from the air and went to our heads. I waved a quick goodbye to Anthony as his bus arrived and straddled my bike. As I put my foot to the pedal I looked up and thought, just for a moment, maybe everything will be alright.

The Destination

I lie there with my eyes closed and picture the path ahead.

It is a monumental mountain surrounded by its lesser foothills. Hanging barely above the horizon, I can see its snowy cap turned a hazy blue. This mountain, I see, is the ideal. I must climb it.

I approach closer and the pathways start to form, a ridge there, a crevasse there, awe-inspiring glaciers, how will I climb it?

Doubt surrounds me but conviction pushes me further.

And I open my eyes with water as far as I can see.

Melts

I carefully placed a wet towel underneath the ceiling fan and laid myself down. With each movement I made sure bare skin never touched bare skin. The heat wave was unlike no other, with DVDs melting and the aquarium needing to be topped up daily. Even the fish were sweating.

I yelled out to Cheryl who was watching basketball in her room, "Holy fucking hell is it hot. How is it in your room?"

She mumbled back, "Yeah, but I'm kind of busy."

I sighed. Yeah. So am I.

Was it my fault?

Life is meaningless and empty of satisfaction
The more I work, the less I get out.
How loose and tenuous are my strongest connections?
Drowning and motionless in my sea of self doubt

I would run away if I could lose myself
But I'll always be around to fuck it up
When things are getting better
We conspire to make it worse

Waking up from nightmares into nightmares
With sleep and consciousness blurred
Next year will be better I cry and swear
As my autopilot creaks and silently whirs

I would run away if I could lose myself
But I can't escape my flaws
Things aren't getting better
They're only getting worse

At sea I find driftwood floating in the ocean
Grasped for a moment before it slips out
Cold and frozen in the waves and commotion
Was it a strong wind or was it my fault?