Looking Back at The Adventurous Spirit and Carolina

I have just completed saving all of my posts from my flagship blog, The Adventurous Spirit: Travels and Prose (a previous blog with an added subtitle for its published name) to thumb-drive (all fifty-eight entries), and was astounded by how I was able to write. Posts such as Burst, Thoughts, and View From The Ravenel and the San Joaquin are some examples. I laid both hands on the table, crying in my mind, "Why can't I write like that anymore?!" although I suppose I can; but I have simply changed. Take for example my post from July 4th, 2010, a bit of a contemplation of my personal musings on freedom. No coincidence, I'm sure. By this point I had waxed so romantic about train-hopping that I was about ready to head up to North Carolina and train hop across the Eastern Continental Divide. One thing that continues to hit me is how pure my eyes were. There I was, years ago, pouring over rail-road maps, tracing with my finger and my heart meticulously the train tracks that often hugged rivers and highways. I was still under the influence of my grand journey up to Appalachia a mere eight months back and my more recent trip driving the parkway, only two months ago.

 I realize what was different: It was my eyes. My affinity for light. The brightest of rooms was too dark for my taste now

I certainly had a simpler way of looking at things. Just as I said, I was a plant. Sunlight was all I knew. I was newly fascinated by light, both the spiritual and the physical. Perhaps it was fate that kept me away from becoming a train-hopper. Either way, I can't help but wonder what I expected to find when I passed the Appalachians. Countless times I had wished to get to the other side. Tennessee indeed held a sense of wonder and "home" feeling to me when I first bicycled through it. I so wish I could have seen more of it. Eastern Tennessee, Missouri, Kansas, and the Great Basin in general did little to inspire me. Maybe one day I will step out of my truck in the middle of America, take a fresh breath, and understand. I suppose I have the same vagaries, but now are structured with a sense of duty. I'm still working to understand what our American fore-bears saw when they declared on July 4th that we were free. I'm trying to see fully what they saw. Discover what the virgin American freedom was in the 18th and 19th centuries, and go forth to obtain.

Musically-Inspired Place of the Day
It has been years since I've done this, but I like the feel it gave to many of my opening posts. Lately, as I have mentioned in my newest blog, I have felt a strange notion to return home for a short while. I put together an Ipod playlist to power this new scheme. The first song came in with a mournful (yet hopeful, all at the same time) "Leavin' ol' Chicago with its rain and snow / Chilled to the bone / Lord, won't you help me ride this Greyhound home," off of Blue Highway's 1985 album. It was followed by my song of choice today: Carolina in My Mind. Like I, his heart feels a certain yearning to return. My favorite lyric personally is:

There ain't no doubt in no-one's mind that loves the finest thing around, Whisper something soft and kind

 The steel guitar wails discreetly to complement the feel of the lyric. It is like those love-nature metaphors that I've talked of years ago.  The land and romance all give you the same warm, good feeling. Nature has always whispered to me softly, silently even. Subtle holiness. You can never know which moments in nature will leave the deepest spiritual impression on you in the years to come. To me, this song encompasses not just my home town, but the entire gentle green southeast, with its wealth of flowing streams, waving grasses, and tall pines. James Taylor's masterpiece is the same way. It sticks with you powerfully, howbeit modest and common at first.