09.17.22

    It's been awhile hasn't it? I've stepped back with a lot of things. So many perspectives to digest over the past few months. Lots of changes. Good ones to be sure...but I sat there this morning thinking of how creativity strikes. You can train yourself to channel creative energy in all sorts of ways, but at the end of the day, that compulsion is either there or it isn't. I wonder what drives the will to consistently produce works in any independent field. That's tough to say. The past few years saw so much visceral change that I usually didn't have the wherewithal to address any of it. It was like riding some kind of wild horse that just kept galloping and crashing through rivers and fields under stars and suns. I wasn't complaining. Not me. So now we find ourselves in this A-frame in the woods. The cool September morning. The pines are barely whispering. It's that "change" feeling. You know that autumn has arrived. The hummingbirds are thinning out around the feeders. Pine needles drop in the yard, on the deck, stacking above windshield wipers. That crispness that you feel the morning it arrives; getting acquainted. Sorting the old jackets. Buying a down comforter. Ordering cords of wood. Sharpening axes and hatchets. The wood shop is full of projects lined up in a sort of ordered chaos. Sawdust everywhere. Blades and chisels and power tools and hammers and nails and steel and stain and sandpaper. This is usually how I spend my days now, outside of the occasional jaunt to a friend's to help out with something. 

In my spare time I look at the trails. We were only slightly disappointed that we didn't get over to the TRT this year. The trade-off was investing the energy over here. You see, just after the PCT, I went to Zurich and we lived in an apartment very close to Lochergut, just above the Co-op. It was manageable but going from a thru-hike to a metro situation was very trying. Every single weekend we went into the Alps. I would have things packed and ready to go at 3pm Friday afternoon so we could hop on the rail and go. Weekend plans usually started on Monday and we'd work out the details in the evenings over dinner. From there, we came to Flagstaff directly into the midst of global events and national upheaval on multiple fronts and worked things out from where we were. We stayed small but active and made the AZT part of the adventure, while exploring every trail we could find in northern Arizona. The Arizona Trail was completed in May of 2021 and since then we've kept our own council, working on little projects and planting seeds here and there. We bought some investment property from a friend and established little network bases of interest. It all became a little more free-form. It was something we hadn't considered until just then. It was clear that the spirit of the trail was well within us but some kind of nest was appearing on the horizon as well. We'd always said that we wanted adventure and a sort of adventure headquarters should we need it. We honestly never really looked at Flagstaff as anything but a place to sleep when we flew over, but the opportunity appeared through different signs and we just went with it. After awhile we understood the value of closing doors. When things didn't pan out or situations went below a certain threshold we pivoted and let the universe do its thing, which led to other opportunities, which is how we found ourselves back in the woods after three years. It feels good to be here. One notable occurrence was that when we made lists and qualifiers about what we were looking for, at some point I remember throwing up my hands and writing "Look, I just want it to feel like the Mountaineer's Lodge at Steven's Pass." A month later and no later than five minutes after we'd been handed the keys, Hanne turned to me and said "You know what this reminds me of?" I said "What?" "The Mountaineer's Lodge at Stevens Pass." Well, huh.

So, I still peruse the trails on a daily basis. I watch the flow of energy. The little cycles within larger cycles. The way it ebbs and flows. Something draws us to Scotland. Maybe the Scottish National Trail. Maybe something in Normandy along the coast. These are trails I never even considered before. Maybe because they weren't far enough into the deep, undivided wilderness, but I find myself less attached to sweeping gestures and more into whatever raises my pulse. Hopefully. I get different bugs every week. I miss Switzerland. I miss the Alps and the little family dinners and fondues and the alpenhorn players down at the park and the lazy winding trips in and out of the villages and gondolas and huts and so on. There's an undeniable Swiss magic that I can't put into words. I'd never felt so at home so far away from home. Yeah, it took a year to feel that way but we crammed in about as much awesome as two humans possibly could and I just sincerely miss it once in awhile. America is so much chaos. So much division. So many random opinions and feigned attitudes about everything. The Swiss just get it done. Usually...that is, except for beer and music. They can't have it all. 

I wonder where that creative impetus comes from and what it means. I look at my lists, my inspirations. Things never go exactly the way you want them to, but you can point in a general direction and enjoy the ride and keep a regular journal. It helps. I have projects four years in the making that have finally hit the ground much later than expected, but there they are. It's a revolving, evolving thing and once in awhile it manifests in something tangible that appears in the three-dimensional plane. Other days, a nice walk will do.