The First Words...
It's April 22, 2023. I've been traveling the world for 6 years. Honestly, it's hard to say. I don't see time in days or weeks, but instead I see it in adventures and experiences. "Home" is no longer a place, but is instead a feeling of comfort that lies within me, or sometimes in a phase of time. It never lasts forever. At times I've lived in luxury, squandering my earnings away at the slightest whim or want. Or contrarily, I've lived a meager, minimal, forage food from dumpsters type of existence. There's a time and place for everything. I've never really known how I was going to keep going, only that I would in whatever way I could. This has required me to be a chameleon, soaking up and blending into the environment around me. Always having to find the right costume for the specific cirumances that I find myself in. I've met multitudes of beautiful people on this journey. Some of which I'm still entangled with today, and others that lasted just for a moment, but nonethelss left their imprint on my heart. We never know how much time we have on this flying rock which is why I'm so moved to share these words and stories. After many years of procrastination, finally, I've managed to face myself and start this endeavor. At least for today, at least for this post.
Every story has certain contexts, situations, and happenings that set up all the dominos in one line waiting to be knocked over. For me, my launching pad into this 6 year (and going) serendipitous saga started in a wee town located within a valley in Alaska. I spent a small amount of time there, yet I'm still feeling the repercussions to this day. I'd left my hometown of The Woodlands, Texas - just 3 days after graduating high school to go work in Alaska. Here is where you can say (without being too dramatic) that I had my first awakening.
I'd finally left the bubble in which I grew up in and was meeting characters from all walks of life. In the day I'd help run the animal conservation center: answer questions, sell entry tickets, cater to the tourists (the most difficult animals of all), and deal with the miscellaneous happenings that only could happen at such a place. Like having to scare off wild bears during opening procedures. Or having to relocate the endangered herd of Wood Bison (something I was drastically under qualified for). In the evenings we hiked close by mountains, never being limited by time because the Sun nevers set during Alaskan Summers. Normally we'd cap the nights by passing around a bottle of "Canadian Mist" whiskey around a campfire. Typically we listened to folk, bluegrass, or classic rock music. There were eight of us. We all lived in a mobil home that was meant for four. We lived within the fences of the conservation center on the same grounds as the animals (Obviously with various protective barriers). This meant that when standing on our front porch you could see the various animals that lived at the center. Caribou, Wood bison, moose, wolfs, bears, a friendly porcupine, lynx, a suave fox, musk ox, and more. After all these years I can still vividly remember our chaos of a home and the hole in my room that went directly to the ground outside. Nothing in the mobil home worked. At one point, after a night of drinking, dancing, and debauchery - we no longer had a door. We remained doorless for the next couple of weeks. I still don't know what happened to that door. At another point some crazy boyfriend of one of the housemates punched a hole in our kitchen wall. That also remained unfixed. The water that we used to shower was saturated with iron, leaving a lingering metallic eggy smell in the air. Our skin and hair were dry and brittle as a result. I'd say that our shanty barely working mobil home was the perfect symbolism for those of us living within it. We didn't have all of our "nuts" and "bolts" in the right places, but damn, we had character. That counts for something right?
This small but powerful phase in my life (about nine months) could be defined as my "Stupidity" phase. I spent these months experimenting with my relationship with bad decisions and the lessons that came in consequence. I recall one winter evening where we got ahold of a truck, a rope, and a snowboard. With my friend in toe behind me, I dragged him down a mountain while he snowboarded. We took turns. Later on, instead of a snowboard we used an upside down table, and instead of snow, we were on concrete. The table was no longer useable after that. Or there was the infamous "Tequila Night" where my fragile ego was challenged to drink an absurd amount of tequila. My housemates were sure I'd end up on the floor. Well, they were wrong. I ended up dancing on the roof. Or there was "Naked Night" where we'd live our lives as usual, only naked. I remember as the night neared its end, my friend and I found ourselves in a drunken stupor in awe watching the bears...naked. I still remember the feel of the crisp Alaskan air. It was a magical, liberating moment that I never imagined myself being in. After all, who imagines themselves watching bears in the nude?
Apart from living in a unique situation with people who were living different types of lives, one of the biggest influences in my life at the time was the books I found myself engrossed in. Having just stepped away from religion, I felt like I had to rediscover the world and reality as I knew it. I constantly had my nose in a book. I was devouring everything. Books on religion, spirituality (whatever that means), travel novels (especially from the Beatnik era), psychology, self-help (maybe too many) - anything and everything. I felt like my mind was constantly expanding and that I was having to rediscover the world and my place within it. Something I'm still experiencing as I write this. It was exciting. It was scary. It changed me. By reading a book, it's as if we are downloading the life experience of the writer. Instead of having to live that life, we can just "download" wisdom by reading or listening. Nowadays our attention spans are decreasing and we are losing the ability to focus. We are addicted to quick dopamine hits that are forever available. The idea of delayed gravitation for the sake of something long term is gradually decaying in us as a society. How long have us humans communicated via stories? Written words? Spoken words? Anyways.
In my last few months of living in Alaska, my friend and I moved into a dry cabin. No paper work needed. Just a handshake between two people and boom-ba-da-boom - we had a cabin. A cabin with no water (we drove into the closest town to refill containers), an outdoor hole for our bathroom (winter toilet runs in the middle of the night were frigid cold), mushrooms growing in the floor, a fireplace, and best of all - no address. It was perfect, and it was ours. I have many wonderful memories from that time. An endless amount of excursions to the alluring far off. My friend would walk out our front door in the morning and point at a mountain saying, "Let's go there today." and off we'd go. Or we'd borrow the dingy of a neighbor and float the river that ran by our cabin, not knowing where we'd end up. We even had a moose that frequented the area. We gave her the name Rosy. Life was simple. Life was good.
As the months passed, and as cabin fever creeped upon me, I began to feel something within me growing. An urge. An urge to go and write my own story. I no longer wanted to read about other peoples adventures. I was too full and needed to do something with all the acquired energy and existential angst that was blooming within me. I called my mother and informed her that I would in fact not be going to college. I wasn't quite sure what was next, but I knew something was brewing.
My Alaskan phase of unchecked stupidity wasn't for nothing. It opened me up to a simple but powerful realization. Having filled myself with 9 months of books, eclectic people, contemplative hikes through nature, and eccentric experiences - my world view had been changed. I now saw different possibilities before me. The world was my playground and I wanted to go play. As time would tell, I could have never imagined what was going to happen next.
-Corey
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