Adirondack Luxury

An odd band of low fog lay wrapped around a grove of eucalyptus along Highway 1 at dawn. I thought maybe someone in one of the hobo camps had set an early morning warming fire. I look at fog all the time and seldom see a formation like this. Several small bands of homeless people camp along the edge of the forest and river just outside downtown Santa Cruz, a known haven for this living style. I often see them cross the highway, bearded, laden with backpacks, slipping through cut-out holes in the cyclone fencing, down to their hidden nests, like little foxes or coyotes. Bums, hoboes, who knows the reasons they might give for how they live?

I move north and the rest of the sky this morning is quite clear. That would explain the cold night and the abundance of evening stars. When I looked into the deep sky this morning, I felt a need to listen to the voice within. It caused me to wonder what all the people with smart phones listen to when they lose access to their phones, or what they used to listen to before they befriended their phones. I am avoiding owning one, convenient as they may be, because I see them as disruptive to my own internal flow of thoughts and ideas that I listen for.

I like to yak a little on the telephone too, but when at home, sitting down, elbows propped up on the long arms of my Adirondack as I watch and at the same time listen to the forest birds. I enjoy letting the forest creatures be part of the phone conversation I am having. I do carry an older model cell phone, but often forget to turn it on or carry it with me, so others who want to reach out and touch me know that I am more often unreachable. I’m not in any particular trance or deep meditation when out and about without the phone, just looking to move through the day with the speed and efficiency of my own internal conversation. I have lived most of my life in such manner, and phonelessness has worked fine for me. Leave me a message and I will come back from my thoughts when they have reached some resolution.

I am often jealous of the detachment from the cultural technology that our local hoboes must enjoy, experiencing an unplugged reality that so many have forgotten. I see in my journal that it is a common theme for me to dwell on. I think of luxurious living as being free of an abundance of interference signals, so that I might be more aware of self and immediate surroundings.

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