Now that we’ve lived with it for several months, we’re pretty pleased with the motion-activated lighting we put up around the homesite. The combination of four small fixtures on the RV and one large three-element flood on the meter pole provides just enough illumination without it being overkill.
When we venture beyond the range of those lights and there’s no movement to trigger them, it quickly becomes obvious that damn, it’s dark here. On moonless nights especially, we enjoy an almost total absence of ambient light.
It occurs to me that some folks are afraid of the dark. (Or so they say.) Not me — I embrace darkness. I revel in it, along with something else we get a lot of up here, this time of year in particular.
Silence.
In my experience, people are more terrified of silence than they are of darkness. Silence, not darkness, is what gives us myths and fables, conspiracy theories and every religion known to man. Every sasquatch and chupacabra emerges from silence, born of our innate desire to break the stillness, to explain, to invent understanding — to pretend that we know what we don’t.
Besides, most folks can’t stand to be alone, or even feel alone. That’s all they get from silence.
And what do I get?
Peace.
By my calculations, at 66 I’m the second-oldest living human on The Mountain. (Only ten of us inhabit this place, ranging in age from 15 to 69, so the field ain’t that big.) I’ve reached the point where even if I don’t want to think about aging, my body reminds me what time it is.
And so I think about it.
I read an article this morning that talked about “living in the 3/4 time” — that is, coming to grips with the prospect of having only 25% of one’s years remaining. (All things considered, I’d regard myself as fortunate to be looking at another 22 years.) A lot of us who’ve made it this far haven’t yet “retired” (whatever that means anymore), hesitating to take that step for fear it’s akin to surrender.
Personally, I’m glad to have “retired” five months before turning 65 and, for a year before that, to have traveled the country with Deb. Both decisions gave me a fighting chance to enjoy some of this final act while I’m still able.
To paraphrase a line from that article, I’d much rather be the oldest guy stacking cordwood than the youngest guy in the nursing home.
And in that spirit, I’d rather be the second-oldest guy on The Mountain than the oldest guy at the office.
Though I no longer find myself driven to “work” for a living in the conventional sense, I’m compelled to keep moving, keep thinking, keep learning. Obviously, creating our homestead on The Mountain is a big part of that.
So is this blog.
I don’t know how much time I have left. (That’s so for all of us, of course.) I do know that I’m closer to the end than I am to the beginning. Rather than spurring me to complete some sort of bucket list, however, that certainty moves me to wring the most out of every remaining moment, every experience, each and every sight and sound and smell and taste.
In other words, my sole mission is to be present until I’m not.
The only thing standing in my way is my own stubbornness. See, I have this tendency to exceed my own limits. I push myself hard, and while that might be an admirable quality in a man, this man has to learn to write checks he can cash.
Willing Spirit, allow me to introduce Weak Flesh.
Either I’ll figure that shit out or I won’t.
The last time that Deb got up in the morning and went to work — at a job, I mean — was in July of 2020. Tomorrow will be a big adjustment for her, so today I focused on giving her the time and space she needed to prepare.
We handled laundry yesterday, so that was out of the way. This morning I gave the Wrangler a good once-over — fluid checks and the most basic of maintenance, plus cleaning the (filthy) windows and getting an uncooperative HID high-beam working again.
I burned a barrel of trash. We took the Ranger down The Mountain and dropped in on neighbors. Daylight hours drew to a close with a colorful sunset over the valley.
Life will change just a little tomorrow, in a good way. Bring it.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB