Usually – Not that I post often enough to even have a usually, I’ll post on cabin updates and how things are going in a rounded out summed up fashion. It’ll be a different kind of post today. A sharing into my discouragement. Let me explain.
Things at the cabin are indeed slowly moving along, and I have been working on a post in regards to that, but thought that I’d keep this rant separate.
Usually in my busy hectic days I will see a piece of why I chose my lifestyle. Why I chose to live in the woods and struggle to work four jobs to keep it that way. Sometimes in a customer, a sunrise, a song, northern lights, or sometimes even in the strength felt after working hard and taking pleasure in a job well done. I am not seeing it anymore. My customers at a certain job I work at are growing to be plain awful. I’ve had a lady throw her change at me, I’ve had drunkards druel on the counter, and today I actually had to stand up for myself and tell a customer to leave, and that they were not welcome anymore (though if were being honest I’m not sure if they were ever exactly, welcome.) It’s just plain discouraging. I’m not finding anything of value in the people I serve. I don’t see another person’s passion shine through to inspire me. I am finding emptiness in people. Emptiness in society. People don’t care in regards to integrity, politeness, sharing with other people. I’m just an empty washed out figure in their hum drum lives. The more I serve humanity the more humanity sickens me. How I long to be alone in the woods and not have to leave. How I long for other people like myself who are just as passionate towards the outdoors and not just seeing it as a place to log, mine, trash and burn.
I am also discouraging myself. Since I’ve been on my own in January, I’ve welcomed mornings. (I might be a bit of a morning fan anyways). I welcome each day as a new day and a fresh chance to try again, for inspiration to come. Before I lived in the cabin and lived in the town I am closest to now, mornings meant, making a pot of coffee (using this crazy thing called ELECTRICITY, I know, that’s just unheard of these days..) and then lying in bed for two more luxurious hours of losing myself in writing, reading, or even.. the internet. Mornings brought peace to me and it was something I would attempt to maintain for the duration of the day. Mornings now, I have a HELL of a time waking up in the first place, I get up, think ” should I make coffee? tea?” … “Screw it. What do I care..” Go outside, feed and water chickens. Leave. On the the drive to town, the sun is rising. This is the fragment of the north I have left. A small crack of sunlight entering into my hardened heart. In town, I stop at a gas station for an awful cup of coffee and a factory chicken’s egg sandwich. It’s at that point when I think to myself, “What the fuck am I doing.” I own this beautiful piece of the north. I have a very far from even thinking about being finished cabin. I have my own chickens, and I drive to a gas station to drink shitty coffee and eat a disgusting shitty egg. WHAT AM I DOING?!
My discouragement in music you ask? While I’m on a rolling rant here? I am sick of CBC Radio 2. I am sick of the scratched cds I have in the truck. I don’t have the time to make new ones, or the equipment as my laptop has crashed (onto the stack of crashed laptops it goes). Lets go back to CBC Radio 2. I am sick of the same overplayed almost okay songs played EVERY MORNING. I am sick of hearing Janet Holder, Leader of Northern Gateway Pipeline and hearing her lies and her “conditions before we build Northern Gateway” and about how she’s a proud British Columbian. As she attempts to lead death and destruction through what little fresh water ways and forest we have left. This may come to a shocker to most people, but coming from one who lives in the woods? Sorry to burst your woodland bubble on the forests of British Columbia, but they are pretty damn near gone. Logging and mining work sickeningly quick on whats left. I often think of a certain quote or internet proverb have you, when I see how quickly the land around me is being robbed. “When the last tree has been cut down, the last fish caught, the last river poisoned, only then will we realize that one cannot eat money.” I will admit there is a tiny handful of songs I do like, that are on my phone, that I’ll make a small playlist to share here. (Yea I’m a hypocrite. Get over it. )
Last but certainly not least, my biggest discouragement lies in the hearts of man who have nothing but time to hunt others. Those who slither and slime through the wakes of life to poison the lives of others. Those who actually make me feel afraid to go home at night. I’ll be honest (as always..) I thought at this point, in a perfect world.. that some woodsy mountain man would swing down from the tree tops and rush in to hold my hand. Someone to encourage me to push forward, want to make coffee in the morning for, and to share in a self-sufficient lifestyle. I thought someone big and strong would be here by now to protect me from those with sick hearts, those who entertain in the idea of bombarding the cabin in the woods where I live. Where have all the good people gone? Where is the substance to people and where has my zest for the substance in life itself gone? Am I depressed? Am I seeing society in a new shade as I grow more and more angry with those around me and myself? Looking back at anything I had ever watched or read on living a self-sufficient lifestyle in the north, I found encouragement in the small families that did it. Couples, distant (but close) neighbors. Whenever I read anything on anyone who did it alone, I enjoyed it (of course) but I never thought that that would be me. I banked on someone being there through it all and to carry me through when times grew tough. I think of Christopher McCandless and when he wrote, “Happiness only real when shared.” It’s simple and it’s true. Read it again, say it aloud slowly. I find that in each day that passes I give less and less of a care about myself and how I treat others because I am truly unhappy. I am so grateful for the help of others, I am grateful to even own a bit of the north, and I’m grateful for as my loving father puts it, my “shit-hole of a cabin”. For those things I am grateful and feel a pang of guilt in admitting, that I AM UNHAPPY.
Of course I’ll push on. On one hand I don’t have much of a choice, and on the other hand it truly is my choice.