Careful what you wish for

In 2017, I finished writing my novel, living in what I learned is called a "shotgun shack" at the foot of Mt San Jacinto in Death Valley, CA. Plenty of people were worried I wasn't coming back from that shack.

There was an old claw-foot tub in the yard, and because of the unbearable heat, I got into the habit of sitting in that tub and experimenting with various "plant medicines."

One night, I was soaking in a bathtub and gave up the ghost. Well, on that particular night, something mixed with something, or I was dehydrated, and as my body slipped into the darkness, I asked the universe or God, or whatever you’d like to call it, what was the point of me being here?

I said this and watched as my mind went through all of the essential relationships in my life; I turned them over in my mind, and I thanked each person, knowing that soon, I would have to say goodbye to most of them. Or at least that is what I thought.

And then, quite simply, without any fuss whatsoever, no blinking lights, no levitation, the question I had been seeking for twenty-five years became clear.

How shall I live now that I'm dead?

1.     I wish to live close to nature. I could no longer live in cities or crowded places. I wished to be as self-sufficient as possible.

2. I wish to cultivate and engender authenticity--to demonstrate, by my own life, what it is to live truthfully, unapologetically in non-resistance to evil and out of the transactional matrix that has so many peoples heads up their arses.

As a younger man, I thought this life required me to become a renunciant. I’d have to find a place where my personal needs were looked after by a community of like-minded individuals, or I would have to renounce my own will and follow the path that G-d provided, where my feet were placed. Both of these paths could turn out to be the same—but the point was that it became apparent that I had to give up a sense of control and learn to accept what I had been given and where I was headed.

That was six years ago. I had no idea it meant moving back to the frigid Northeast. I had no idea I'd entirely quit corporate life, and I had no idea what a frost-free hydrant was. They are meant not to freeze or crack. But they do. So you have to dig them out in the mud in winter.

This is living the dream, folks. Right here. In the mud.