Insight is input, I am output

In the front of my journal, I have five fortune cookie messages pasted in, all collected before I left.

"Your principles mean more to you than money or success."

"Reasonable people endure, passionate people live."

"The concern of others will make your trip a delight."

"Look with favor upon a bold beginning."

"A wise man knows everything, a shrewd one, everybody."

From the bum under the bridge in Reno:

"Good people and good places. That's what life's all about. Oh, and good food too."

From Yogi master Bill,

"I said to my friend from China, 'I think I know what makes a life happy. Good health, good food, and good friends."

'Yes, very good, Bill.' my friend replied, 'but you forget one thing.'

Bill: 'Oh yeah? What's that?'

His friend: 'Spirit, Bill.'

Me: 'Ha, he got you!'

Bill: 'No, he taught me.'"

Also from Bill...

"This is how enlightened my friend is. One day, as I sat on his porch by a large chime, watching the workers in the garden, he walks over to me and places his hand on my shoulder. And then, in one swift, loud movement, he clanged his knuckle on the chime. The workers looked up at us annoyed. He just smiled. And then, he took both his hands and played beautiful music on that chime and put them and myself right back where he got us from. Then he walked away."

From Antonio, a ride, about his service in Somalia...

"There was one guy in our unit who was fucking awesome with a grenade launcher. We would set up targets, no bigger than a person, get in a jeep, and while moving, he'd fire at the highest speed, FOOM FOOM FOOM FOOM FOOM, and they'd be smoke. But then, on our first day of real combat, we were riding in two jeeps into a hot area. And he was all bragging, "Yeah, I'ma gonna kill me a whole sackful today." But then, when the bullets actually started flying out at us, he got so nervous that his hands were totally shaking. He fired his first round, and it blew up the other jeep. Five men in that jeep. They were my friends. Later, we were told what happened. We had to shut up. They died in combat, that was that. Their families would receive the Medal of Honor, and we would never talk about it again. But I'll tell you what, that night, we went to his tent and kicked the shit out of him. We beat the living hell out of him."

Not sure...

"Reason is but an item in the mystery; and behind the proudest conciousness that ever reigned, reason and wonder blushed face to face. The inevitable stales, while doubt and hope are sisters."

Lint, another thru hiker, on his thought process toward the hike,

"I'm tired of safe and sane! I want dumb and dangerous!"

Lint, again.

"So, I'm bombing my bike down this steep hill in Portland. Down at the intersection, this woman in a big white SUV comes to the stop sign, looks up at me, and just rolls right through. So, I have to squeeze the brakes, and come screeching to a halt. Then, I turn, and follow her, because I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. And she's blowing through all the signs now, because she sees me behind her and she doesn't want me to catch up. But I do, at the light. I tell her to roll down her window. She does, just a crack. I say, "Lady, do you realize you could have killed me back there?" She's on her cell phone and gives me a thin smile and says, "Well, maybe you should be more careful." and rolls her window back up. So, I pull out my pocket knife, pop the bitch's tire, and ride on."

Georgi, trail angel in Old Station...

"Love is really quite simple. All you must do is nurture a feeling that you want good things for the other person. That's what it comes down to. That's all it is. And if you can do that, you can love."

Story, thru-hiker.

"So, in the trail registers, I created this girl named Wildflower. And she'd always write real cute things in the comments box, maybe mention she was lonely on her solo hike. And other guys would catch up to me and be like, "So, have you seen Wildflower lately?" and I would say, "Oh yeah, man, she's only like a day ahead. Real nice girl." and they'd say "Thanks" and speed off. Ha ha ha ha ha."

A conversation between me and Pan, the craziest bum I met in Reno.

Pan: I'm watching you, man.

Me: Oh yeah?

Pan: I can see what you're doing.

Me: And what am I doing?

Pan: You're judging me. You're weighing me over in your mind. You're analyzing me, trying to figure something out. You're looking for something, some hint that I am like, trustworthy or something.

Me: Sounds like you're doing the same thing to me.

Pan: You bet. I got you all figured out. You wanna hear who you are?

Me: Go for it.

Pan: You ever seen the Matrix?

Me: Of course.

Pan: But did you understand it?

Me: Uh, I think so...

Pan: Explain it to me.

Me: Okay... the mind of mankind creates a machine that builds a construct for mankind's mind to keep him imprisoned while the machines, in turn, use them to power the machinery.

Pan: ...What? Huh? Look, you're smart enough to use words like "contruct", but you didn't even get the fuckin' movie. It's like this, man. There are citizens and lost kids in this world. If you're still working for the machine, you're one of the citizens. But once you realize the truth, you can break free. You can take the red pill, man. Like you and I have. We're lost kids, man. But you, you're a little different. You're like the guy with the steak. You're out, but you still want to remember what steak tastes like.

Me: ...you are absolutely right.

A bunch of hitchhikers collected at the Rainbow Gathering, all trying to get out...

1: Your van is empty! Come on!

2: What are you doing?

3: Dude, that's not cool.

1: What?

3: You can't be bitter like that.

2: Not while hitchhiking.

4: Yeah, that's bad vibes, man.

Me: If you want love, you gotta give it, bro.

2: Trust, patience, love, and luck. That's hitchhiking, my friend.

3: Ha, that's just plain ol' good living.

More From my Journal

Something different today. Here are some of my personal favorite excerpts from the journal I have been keeping on this trip. Enjoy.

April 16th (Day one)

After a few pointless middle fingers, one rather-mean fake-out, some improvised vaudeville, and about an hour, Louie and I are laying back in the covered truck bed of our first hitched ride. The feeling is very romantic, scenic vistas rolling by the broken screen window. Out the back window of the truck's canopy, I watch the road fall away. How different it is from looking forward, and yet how much the same. Suddenly, I imagine that I am watching my old life slip away, each yard a distance farther from my old self. To think, I will retrace this whole distance. The weatherman was wrong, the sky is a beautiful blue. I say it's a POG. And today is Easter. You know, if Christ was reborn on Easter...

April 20th (Still thumbing it south)

...a day of reflection. This type of day is ending as it usually does, with me facing into the future, wondering. Who will I be when I return home?

April 26th (At the Kickoff Party)

investments via lack thereof

on a cold day,
a hot shower is twice as good
or three days without shower
make the shower three times as good

birdsong, toad croaking, crickets,
train whistles, traffic, and music,
sound sweeter and more vivid
in proportion to how long since last heard

it's often easier to get along
with far away friends and lovers
than roommates and spouses
seen every day

thus, the goodness of a thing
is derived from the ratio
of its distance to normality

April 27th (Still at the Kickoff)

Worry has given way to excitement. Snow doesn't mean danger, it means adventure! How much more advice from these people can I possibly inhale? We are so close to starting, I am having hallucinations of the future, of waterfalls and snow-capped mountains, of deep forests and sweltering deserts. Perhaps my only remaining worry is that I'll like it too much and I will become obsessed like many of these people here. Although, their passion is inspiring. And their help, invaluable. I am gaining confidence every day, a vital, but overlooked resource. Imagine if I actually pull this off...

May 3rd (Just after the start of the hike. I love this entry.)

I admire plants. There is something in every living plant that I aspire to. So small a beginning, a single acorn becomes the mighty oak. How wild and rebellious plants are, growing in places where botany notebooks say they should not. And how bizarre is that force, that instinctual courage that tells the underground seed, "Reach upwards." Any seed that does not heed this mysterious call dies. Imagine the day that the young plant breaks through the surface dirt, what an inspirational event, to now be something alive, suddenly born into the world. And so they continue to grow up, although never separating from their roots. Indeed, those roots grow deeper, thus a plant is moving forward and backwards at once. Soon, the tenacious tiny seed will brave cold winter with a silent stoicism. For dear life, it hangs on. It catches blessings from the sky and so nourishes itself. Really, does a flower make any sense at all, this brightly-colored, perfume-smelling creation which springs from mere dirt and water? It's like magic! I, like the plant, find myself mysteriously drawn to reach upward into my own potential. I hope I grow. And then, perhaps, upon the coming of spring, I will burst forth from my bulbous form... and bloom.

May 10th (I wrote this in the hiker registry at the Saufley's in Agua Dulce. It's not in my journal at all. But, it turns out another hiker liked it enough to post it online and I stumbled upon it. So, I thought I'd copy-paste it here too.)

People search for home most of their lives. Home is that special place you remember from childhood, with happy Christmases and presents you really did very little to deserve. Home, with those towering, amazing people (you called them parents) who would do and give almost anything for you without expecting the slightest in return. A kind of surreal kindness and otherworldly compassion pervades the air in every person's memory of "home". It is rare, I think, to find such a place as a grown-up. And yet, as young as I may be, it is readily apparent to me that the extraordinary hospitality shown to total strangers who pass by this household transforms it into a home for all, a home as mythical and legendary as memory recalls. Thank you, your generosity is beyond charity, it is a pure form of love exuded usually only between family.

May 18th (Tehachapi)

It is too hot. Too hot for walking, writing, hitchhiking, thinking. Today, I got my resupply box from my mom. It made me so happy. It is the closest I have gotten in recent years to the childhood ecstasy of Christmas morning. But while I was going through its contents, a cop barged in on my joy for fear I was mixing chemicals to make crystal meth or a bomb "or something." Yeah, in a open field right next to the post office. Gimme a break! The clarity that the wilderness provides is astounding. On the day of my return to society, I am instantly reminded why I love and hate it. I hate society because it can be so stupid. Flat-out retarded at times, in ways that barge in on my freedom and my pursuit of happiness. However, I tolerate it because it contains my friends and family and refrigerated foods, whom I love.

May 23rd (Just before Onyx)

...today I noticed I have been changing out here, so slowly I hardly saw it happening, like a sun setting.

May 27th (Just after Onyx)

Climbing Mt. Jenkins, it's starting to get late. The trail is rough, often just dynamited out of the rock. Dark clouds are coasting in alongside me, at even height. The wind is picking up. I'm thinking, "I do not want to get stuck up here tonight." The sun begins to set. The clouds next to me become kissed with pink. Higher clouds turn shades of yellow and orange, painting the roof of this chapel around me. Then, as I'm sitting looking at my map trying to find a nearby campsite, the color scheme shifts. It's as if I've suddenly put on rose-colored glasses. Then, the hard granite beneath me begins to shimmer, reflecting the moving spectrum of colors in the clouds. It's as though part of a rainbow has gotten lost and is wandering over the mountain on its return to the sky. I am literally in a sunset. Words fail to describe it, something magical, momentous, like walking into heaven.

May 30th (Kennedy Meadows)

...today, I let my body heal. For the first time, I am actually consciously impressed with my body. It's ability to adapt to this immense lifestyle change has been remarkable. I admire it, my flesh seems to be at least as intelligent as my brain, spontaneously growing new ligaments and muscles to help me hike or sensing a hole in my skin and growing over it, consuming the wound and healing it... and the body does all this and more all in a perfectly automatic, regulated, and silent fashion, leaving me to quietly contemplate the spirit...

June 5th (Just before the Sierras. Forgive me, this one is kind of weird.)

We have arrived at the crucial point. It is do-or-die time now. You've had the calm, and now dark clouds are rolling in. Since nobody told you what you needed to hear, I am going to say it to you, me, now, and you will read it after. You can do this, Lennard. You are young, surprisingly fit, clever, prepared, ambitious, and surrounded by well-wishers. Face fear right now, stare into its cold darkness and it will crystallize into courage. Courage is strength. Strength enough for you to do this: to lift yourself over tall mountains. You are no longer a flatlander, you are one of Nature. You will not be forsaken. You will succeed, and will live to tell the tale, and live to relive the saga in later times. You are scared, sure, but this is the eve of your proudest hour. Go forth, Trip, and know that I, at least, have total faith in you.

June 15th (Bishop, CA)

Ah, the great poetry of poverty! 'tis true, all my meager existence could afford today was thus: a day in the park. Laying back on green grass, looking up through the branches of old trees into blue skies. In the park, children play and lovers romance before my eyes. On the street, important men hurry to and fro, quite concerned about some business or another. I can hear the flopping of a diving board, indicating nearby fun. The sun is warm and the bugs are absent, so I nap for many hours. I read a good book, as much of it as I want. I come and go from my spot as I please, not worried about the theft of my things, because they are the possessions of an apparent bum, and who would want that dirty junk but me? I've stayed here out of indecision about where to go next, but this is totally fine. Without a job, I am free to be this free. The price of entry to a full and carefree day in the park such as I have enjoyed today is a fee that the richest businessmen in the world cannot afford to pay.

June 16th (Still in Bishop, CA)

I awoke this morning to the sound of a splash. I slept in the park and my tired eyes opened to three girls in the pool, playing, swimming, and giggling in the pre-dawn gloom. All of a sudden, I realized the true meaning of the "innocence of youth." It has nothing to do with crime or sin. At least, that's not the endearing part. What makes children so admirable is their flagrant contradiction to social custom. If these three girls want to go swimming before dawn and "don't know any better" than to go do so, what blessedly wise individuals they are! Their naivete is their strength, and frees them to be true to themselves in a way few adults can be. Today, my only priority is to finish a book, because I like it. Perhaps I should be at work, or hiking, or pursuing world peace, but I say, here's to "not knowing any better!"

June 21st (Lost on the Piute Trail)

...yes, I will face challenges today, but at least I have something to do worth doing! Pressed against a force antagonized to it, my living life feels that much more, well, alive. Think of the immeasurable, unimaginable sights I will wander by today. Each ridgetop, every corner turned and river forded forges yet another memory in my mind that, perhaps, will not be erased until my final day! How real and engaging and focused this life is! Now, to close my journal and boldly amble into (and out of?) life's precious peril.

---

Okay, I'm tired of typing, and that's probably enough reading material for you folks back home anyway. Leave me a note, I miss you guys.

Side Trip

Lately it occurs to me... what a long strange trip it's been.

Let's try to sum this up quickly...

Left the trail at Red's Meadow. Found some awesome ("awesome" in the archaic sense of the word, ala Eddie Izzard) hot springs the day before, so I was feeling pretty good.

From there, I talked three bus drivers into giving me free rides down to the highway, where I got some rides, eventually got one to Reno from the saddest man I have ever met. After that, I was stuck in Reno, the armpit of the US, for two days. I had a terrible time, was threatened by both a knife and by trainyard security, and couldn't hitch out to save my life.

FINALLY, I escaped, had some hot tasty french fries, and was then picked up by a truck driver headed to Iowa. Sweet. Took me almost all the way to the Gathering, and we chatted up a storm before hand, got along rather well. He gave me his cell number, and he travels back and forth on I-80 every week or so, thus, I am set up if I ever want to travel across the nation again. Woohoo.

Got to the Gathering. Lots of cops. Lots of hippies. Estimates range from 15,000 to 30,000 people. Ryan and Ryan and others I didn't know very well were there too. But unfortunately, when I found Ryan and Ryan, they were leaving. Apparantly, they weren't having a good time. So, I was on my own again.

Made friends with their friends who were staying and hung out with them for the next couple days. On the 4th, everyone congregated into the giant main meadow and formed an enormous circle, too large to see the other side of. It was understood that you were to be silent. And it was. Tens of thousands of people and hardly a sound. And then a parade of children marched into the center of the circle, and the entire Gathering erupted into celebration. It was madness, nay, it was raw chaos. There was watermelon and drum circles and nudity and weddings and hula hoops and bubbles and kegs being rolled into the meadow and drugs being passed around like they were handshakes. I've never seen any party so entirely concerned with celebration.

After that, came the matter of finding a ride out. Took me only a day, I nabbed a ride with some folks headed straight towards Old Station, so that's where I'll be getting back on the trail. My time is about to run out, so I gotta run. Much love to everyone back home!