A Living Magazine - Day 365 - Homecoming - Arlington: The Little Things

I woke after a good sleep, presuming I would be unable to do anything again (what turned out to be a correct presumption). I was exceptionally confident in the security of my sleep spot. So, I decided to read my book for a few hours in the tent. It was about 6:30 a.m. I read until about 10:30 a.m. Then, I thought I should go and at least give one college try to transfer the money, if I could.

I packed up and when I got to Dunkin Donuts, I snuck to the patio and pulled out my tablet, it was dead! Somehow, I hadn't shut it down properly. I dumped an F bomb from the fuselage of my teeth-grinding mouth, then took a deep breath. I had to remind myself that I wasn't planning to have money on this day anyway. Here is what I saw over and over again...

I did decide to try reformating a different SD card in my camera, and it worked. There was one glimmer of hope for actually charging the tablet and getting online--a library. I knew I had seen Cambridge Public Library on the map right near Harvard. Finding it couldn't be that hard, right?

I set off, technology-less. I could at least appreciate the weather. Best stretch for months. Cambridge is a really great place. If one even had a little bit of steady income, one could really enjoy this town. Even broke, it wasn't bad. It is close enough to Boston to make the city accessible by bike or foot, yet free of all the evil mojo that can occur in The City. Plus, it has Harvard, with all of it's amenities. Every college town has a lot of cafés, restaurants, bars, libraries, book stores, and other places that intellectual nerd-types like yours truly can get into. 

If I were to live in the greater Boston area, it would most certainly be here in Cambridge. I think I could make a lot of friends too, as long as I could hide the fact that I sleep under a tree. Ha!

I have a totally different impression of Western New England. And, now, I have a new appreciation for the beauty and culture of Eastern New England. I will tell you one thing. This Journey has given me places where I could escape to if I ever needed to, all over the nation. It has also given me the skills to survive, as long as I can obtain about $10-20 per day. I know how to deal with weather, environment, animals, people, etc. I aim to write about all of this in a condensed form (probably my first book will be a manual for teaching people all of these skills). Hell, just knowing where you can sleep privately and safely in the cities and towns of 28 states is worth something!

I thought about all of this as I passed the Porter section of town and onward to Cambridge Common. There I took a break to really think about where the library would be. I knew it was somewhere east of Harvard Yard, on a street that began with B. Something also told me I had been near it when I passed through The Plaza, on my way into Boston a few days earlier. It was settled. I went to the Plaza first, to sniff out the street...

Under the tent they were setting up for something. It was the end of the year, and I think it may have been an ice cream party, because of all the whipped cream cans being distributed; unless they were for a collective nitrous oxide hit. Ha! 

Then I saw it. Broadway! Yes! Sometimes, folks, it really is the little things. It took very little time to make it to the library. But by the time I got there it was already 4:50 p.m. The library closed at 5:00 p.m. I plugged in, but the computer was too dead. It began charging, but showed a red line. There wasn't enough juice to even turn it on.

I was thirsty and kept two bottles to fill in case I came across a drinking fountain. Thankfully, this library had a beautiful, luscious and ice cold fountain. First I filled myself, then the two bottles. The water in my mouth, down my throat, and cooling my stomach was just like diving into a clear pool. I felt like I was swimming inside out. See? The little things.

There was a strange and old fashioned sense coming over me. No computer, so I read. No map, so I used my instincts and sense of direction. No car, so I walked. No money for a flavored drink, so I had water. No food, so... well, that could have been a bit more updated. All the while, simplicity - even when forced upon me - made life more real. It wasn't just about appreciating what I had left after losing nearly everything I needed. Frankly, I've never really bought into that hyper-optimism shit; thinking that the absolute lowest common denominator is good enough. "Well, I may be paralyzed, blind, deaf, and dumb, but at least I can still breath!" I think that's a stupid strategy for feeling better.

When you're fucked, you're fucked. Just admit it to yourself and have your way with the denial and anger that accompany such despair. That is the way out of the pit. When all is known to be lost, only then can you truly release your mind and find peace within your mind. It isn't the losing, it's the knowing. And, finally, it is the acceptance. For me personally, that is the only path to acceptance.

I learned that when I knew there was nothing left for me in Maine twenty months before. I remembered it when I chose to walk out of North Station into the rainy Boston afternoon. I remembered it when I had to walk a hundred miles through the Virginia wilderness, and now I was remembering it again. 

We struggle to build things that will last as long as possible. And, we only re-realize they won't last when we lose them, even though we have always lost them. NoTHING lasts. Nothing. Only the soul can last. It is not really a thing. It is an embryonic person. It is the future me, the future you. By trying to wear my soul on the outside, I am attempting live as my future self, NOW.

So, you may not believe in such things. And, that is just as good! To me, that is your soul, your choice, the only true freedom you have. That I may believe in the everlasting life of my soul after this broken body falls away, you must necessarily be allowed to believe that you are only your body, and the present must be good enough for you. How wonderful to be alive, and to have that choice!

There need not be fancy rules and regulations. The choice is ultimately not a big one at all. See? The little things. The simple things. But letting go of disappointment, does not equal letting go of choice itself. The truly dead are the ones who refuse to choose. For a "believer" like me, the soul of the refuser is missing out on the full experience of being alive--if not missing altogether.

Perhaps the Spark helps us forget to appreciate how much we've lost, in order to allow the choice of remembering how to start over again? Before my life was put back together again (having the ability to access my money, for a start), I did appreciate. I truly did. It was time to walk back toward the sleep spot... 

O...kay... savethedirt.com.

This was kind of cool to see. And semi affordable.

There isn't much more to say about this day. I walked back by the utility box and looked for a snack. There were none. But it was okay. It was okay.

After setting up the tent I made this video...

My air lantern had charged up under the bright sun during the day, and I read my book by LED, until it dimmed and shut off. Then, I fell asleep.