(#14) A sioux healer, a saint and Zen Masters Ring-Around-The-Rosie in Pawling, NY

After waking up, the cage that contains everything feels less prominent.

Pecus my tent and return to the sandwich next to the lake and the shower area. The place does not open at 7 as the employee the previous day said. But I want to be sitting anyway. Sometimes I felt that I should be doing something else when walking and downloading a class on San Agustín’s work to listen. Mainly because there is an appointment that I found of the book by Phillip K. Dick that I read on my day zero at the 501 shelter.

Place there is none, we advance and backwards, but there is no place.

While I walk and listening to this random course, two things pause me. The first is this previous point in the life of St. Augustine that put it on the spiritual path from the beginning. He describes this platonic idea of ​​imagining a triangle in your mind and seeing it understand the part of your mind that imagines it and how you know a triangle because they taught you. Continue saying in this logic, imagine what an omnipotent God between and under all the things that exist would be like. How can you imagine it and feel it without teaching you the shape of the thing? Saint Augustine continues to say that the point of imagination in the face of aggravated knowledge in words (or judgment) is the door to know God and the more you rest, since the closer you approach his presence in everything.

In this, I see a reflection of the Dogen passages that spoke to me and led me to practice in a monastery before this hiking trip. The idea behind Zazen and endless meditation. The goal of sitting meditation and being the observer (or imaginer in the words of St. Augustine) is never to leave the perspective of the internal door between all things. Growing up to maintain such is the greatest achievement in Zen.

The following of this saint who pauses me is a combination of ideas that he has about pain and love. Both that surround the desire in the relationships and death of their mother. Speaking from this point of view that the internal imageiner is resting in God, the door. Describe pain and desire as something that can only feel far from God. This is because if everything is God, there is no one to lose. If you reside in a sense of love constantly, you do not have to yearn for anything or anyone.

I guess what I have felt in my own trip is the truth of such.

The problem of getting to a head is that love makes me anxious for trauma. Now I see that not being able to feel like that has led me to move people away or hurt people. I can’t go further on this way unless I can get to the point of cureing that wound. Repeat the wound or restore the sacred. More than that, it was not wise enough to understand that becoming anti-something only makes me reflect …

In the Morgan Stewart refuge I arrived after a long day of negotiation and seeing the intersections between the Zen, Saint Augustine and a Sioux healer named Lame Deer. I configured my tent and I’m going to sleep quite quickly after demolishing a panties that I pizzeria pizzeria. During dinner, I talk to a couple of hikers who have some children on bicycle tours. In the morning, I discovered that I was sleeping under a tree that fell sustained by a dead branch. I am looking at him thinking about how windy last night.

I am surprised by the elderly of the two types that come to talk to me.

«I’m sorry to bother you if you’re meditating or something.» He says.

I say it’s fine because nothing is not meditation, but don’t say that part.

He says: «I just want you to know that not everyone in the suburbs are washed in brain. We know what they did and try not to be so disconnected from everything.»

I am a little resumed by this because the combination of things makes me think that this person must be reading my blog or something.

As if he continued a conversation with all the hikers I have found with, it seems that it is money. He asks: «If money was not an option, where would you travel?»

I talk about how I have always wanted to make the monstrous bicycle tours to see the world. You know, Russia to South Africa. Alaska to the bottom of South America. I would see the world if I could and say so much. If someone could do it, someone like me with 20,000 miles of cycling around the United States could definitely. Long after our goodbye, this question persists. While walking, my answer changes and changes.

I think I have been a nomad for a long time because I like to be among things. Enjoying the little flickers of freedom. As in meditation. As Christopher McCandless. As in a place outside the power dynamics. Social constructions. The expectations of colonized whiteness. Something inside me is spinning spinning like a tornado. My answer that I see clearly is the same as my goal. I have to try to heal what the world has done to me and the only work I can do, the same for others. However, more than that … standing in a state of Nirvana or God, I see that the world is the garden of Eden. There are layers in this thing. There is internalization of the cage, which cannot exist when I am that between everything. Then there is the united and imposed cage in a perfect world. If I had to answer, I suppose the most solid is that I would go where it could be cured, I would visit places where I stay more firmly in spirit, and do whatever it is necessary for the garden to be complete again. It is the only true work to be done.

While walking, the butterflies remind me at every step of this path, there were people. An earthly delight garden painting in all directions. Foods to sustain people used to grow along with nature as we lived in nature. Now as mainly as a diet of a food desert between Waypoints in a wildlife corridor in Declive. Maybe be sold by fascists here and there to the best bidder. This high diet in sugar carbohydrates of a trip through a memory that my mother leaves me alone in a rural house, occasionally brings white bread with Bologna and Ramen to eat.

There is a malnutrition and a trauma that comes with that. Something that I am very aware is happening now. Such is a point in a matrix of traumas that prevents me from being love on this path. It is not the path of the Apalaches, but life in general. I also see my mistakes in him. In this blog. In life. I cannot move society away from the continuous horrors of colonialism through anything except a love that is outside of it. I cannot change the world of the many reflections of society in general through trial.

Acampo in a group site with intentions of going to Kent, Connecticut for a replenishment in the morning. At night, my mind wants to escape from this diet and I get interposed on how I could return to my scour bike in Harper’s Ferry. The next morning, I go to the city. Going through the boarding school of the rich that costs more in a year than I have possessed perhaps in the entire life. I take a $ 2 shower at the Welcome Center and wash my clothes in my Bearvault.

Then, for some reason … I went ahead, although there is no place.

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