Not On Walden Pond – Ch. 1 Beginning at the End

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The first entry recounts the events of the last day and the fallout experienced the days immediately following. This was written May 28th, a few days after the Great Escape, as it were:

I’ve descended into a waking nightmare and to describe it as such is an impossibly horrifying understatement.

My existence, my belongings, my personal being is now constrained to the back interior of a dirty, broken down Ford Explorer that cannot be locked nor has windows that can be closed.
There is room for my body when I fold my legs completely at the knees, my arms wrapped and my torso angled towards my left side and availing as much vertical space possible. Even
contorted this way, my feet spill over and the rear hatch can’t clear the space it needs to close completely. From the outside facing the vehicle, you would see the tips of my two shoes
poking out from underneath the bottom of the door.

The remaining space is packed with what was retrieved from the Astro van. The Astro van blew a head gasket and is not driveable. It’s also stuck miles up a poorly maintained dirt road
that ends at the gate of the property I had been camped on until the property owner’s son lost his relationship with sanity and in a paranoia and alcohol fueled rage
(against what or whom, I have no idea), dedicated several hours destroying my things, screaming profanities towards me, threatening to push me and my van into the gorge beside us and finally,
forcing me to flee on foot through the ink black woods down those two miserable miles of pitted winding dirt road while he made chase in his car by creeping at mockingly slow speed behind me,
screaming all the while. I tripped and fell several times, but on the last fall, I wound up twisted on to my back and couldn’t get up before he and the buddy in his car were able to spring out of the
car and each grab a section of me, lifting and stuffing me into the back seat. This is a long story itself, and I will post it in the Not on Walden Pond page when I am up to the task of talking about it.

For now, I really just needed to give voice to my status right this moment. That status includes being terribly cold and feeling an enormous weight of emotion, none of them positive other
than the intentional thoughts of gratitude I have to force myself to create in order to maintain some semblance of a rational perspective.
I am upset, but I also remain cognizant of the futility and danger of allowing myself to break down. I therefore am resolutely determined not to let my emotional response overpower my ability
to make logical decisions and take immediate action that moves me towards a quick solution to this survival problem I now have.
Prior to losing the use and safety of my van I had a stream of challenging issues to contend with, but, compared to what is taking place, now and the circumstances I am facing, I
would almost consider any of those issues ‘first world problems’.

Let me put it another way: On the hierarchy of human needs, I am squarely in the bottom row of the pyramid. My immediate concerns are finding safe, warm, dry shelter while also securing food and water as
well as a place for my body to rid itself of same as it must.

These are not emotional or social problems. These are not problems resulting from the chronic disorder of maladjustment problems. These are economic problems, problems from lack of exercisable resources and opportunity.

And, fundamentally, these problems have uncomplicated solutions. They have simple fixes. But, the fix will not be easy to make. What is simple is not easy by definition.
These are two very different descriptors.

I sometimes hate the way I write. Seriously. What’s even more weird is that I write as I think, yet, I don’t speak as I write. If you’ve never spoken to me, it’s understandable if you hate my writing, too.
And, it’s intermittent tangents like that one that help me maintain composure and prevent a state of absolute panic and fear.

If you’ve read this, please think good thoughts for me. Pray, even.

//–These are posts sharing the experiences of my In the Woods odyssey. It will take a little while to piece them together. All photos are originals I took while on the land.–//

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