How to Break a 9 Month Silence (part 2): What Now

What now, after two years on the road and nine months in Boulder?  The journey continues in a new form.  I envision a blend of the two lifestyles, informed by the successes and failures of each, simultaneously making use of the lessons and addressing the unmet inner needs of both.  I am preparing to launch into a new chapter of exploration of self, humanity, and the world.  The idea is this: to live out of a cozy vehicle and to be on the road once more, slowly traveling from place to place nomadically, meeting new people and deeply connecting, supporting myself by playing music on the street or typing poems or human generosity or doing occasional odd jobs, and just living as deeply as I can.

Yes, I want to be on the road again.  But things will be different this time.  It’s not about traveling anymore.  Travel isn’t even what I want to do now—travel itself is not what I crave.  I do not long for the new scenery, the “freedom,” the sensation of movement even, not the lack of a job, not the visiting of new places.  What I long for is being in touch with the world around me, being tapped in to the energy of life and the power of intuition, living within the cycle of receiving and giving freely, of trust and generosity, of knowing how to tell when the rain is coming based on how the air smells, of eating simple just to nourish my body and being so grateful for the sustenance that I am sometimes moved to tears when it comes to me.  I miss all of that.  I miss the mentality of the road: spending time doing things for their own sake.  The freedom to live and act spontaneously.  It’s not that I don’t want to work—it’s just that I want to do the work that matters the most to me.  It’s not that my idea of freedom implies an absence of commitments or obligations—it’s that I only want to take on commitments and obligations that are truly worth taking on.  I miss living nomadically, in harmony with life through migration: the ability to seek environments that match the seasons of the soul.  I miss those moments that come with surprising frequency in which you sit back and realize that this moment is an answer to the question of WHO AM I, and you realize that that moment is the only way you ever want to live.  I miss the form of service I found in living on the road.  Every day I would hear people say “I wish I could do what you’re doing.”  I hope I have been a source of inspiration, and I know that I’ve deeply touched certain individuals to whom the universe guided me.  I hit the road tired of making compromises.  I learned that one always makes compromises.  Only, living in society helped me realize that while I was on the road, I compromised comfort in order to live out what I believed in.  Then, living within society, I largely compromised what I believe in for a few basic comforts.  I know what I need to do.  Yes: what I long for is not the road but the kind of person I become when I’m out there living that way.  The road is the best place I’ve found to be put in a position where I need to use everything I am capable of using, where I need to become everything I am capable of being.  I want to spend my time doing the things that matter to me, which means I don’t want to sell my time anymore, and the road is the best way I’ve found to do that.  What I will be doing is not “traveling.”  What I’m going to be doing is being, loving, writing, serving, working on myself, etc.  The road is just where I’ll happen to be living while I do those things.

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A year, let’s say.  Maybe more, maybe less, but let’s just say that because that’s a simple chunk of time.  During this time I would be working on myself through the process I’ve developed over the three years of this journey.  I would be building a new practice every month or so.  Each month it would be a new thing I’ve wanted to bring into my life.  It could be meditation, or having a better diet, praying in the mornings and evenings, transforming the “I’ll deal with it later” mindset that applies to the dirty laundry of my life, consciously standing up straighter, drinking tea instead of coffee, anything that I’ve been wanting to bring into my life, many things that I’ve tried and failed to build, but this time, I’d be addressing only one at a time instead of all at once in fits of manic discipline.  This would also be radical and different than ever before because though a few of these things would take up time in my day, most of them are not about adding tasks to my daily life—they’re about how I live my life.  Of course, I would also be steadily writing through all of this.  And if I were able to begin publishing some of my work and establishing myself as a writer, that could be the beginning of a professional foundation.  Ultimately, at the end of this time I could go back to school for writing, or for social work, political science, anthropology.  Or I could stumble upon a job somewhere doing good in the world.  I could take a long journey traveling internationally with all I’m working on.  Or this could be working really well and I could just keep doing it for as long as it feels right.  But one day I’ll write books about it all, I’ll be a professor in an academic community teaching writing or politics, I’ll have a family and a stable place to live and an established form of service.  Maybe at that point when I have a home and a career and children I’ll even sever my dreadlocks.  Or maybe I won’t do that.  They’ll be down to my knees.

But for now, I’ll be living and growing on the road.  As the journey unfolds, I tend to think a lot about the idea of home being something that exists inside of us.  And I think in some ways, our home is just whoever we are; the person we return to each time we return to awareness.  The way I do everything, the way I live my life, is my home.  So in working on myself in the way I have begun to outline here, what I would really be doing is building a home within myself.  When I’m out there on the road, living and writing and seeking and growing, and I meet those people who inevitably want a one sentence answer to the what are you doing question, what I’ll say is that I’m building my home.

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19 Responses to How to Break a 9 Month Silence (part 2): What Now

  1. Carole says:

    Dave, deep salutes ! You’ve such a beautiful travelling soul (as I perceive it). Thanks hugely for sharing;

    Again, I feel so inspired reading you and you say it stunningly, touchingly with such clarity and sense of purpose.

    When so many are caught-up with creating the ‘outer home’, I want to honour your real harkening and inner awareness, valuing the process and labour of love, to keep-on creating your inner home, of being and becoming…manifesting the WHO that you ARE, mirrored-back and mirroring in a thousand lights, moments and meaningful interactions.

    There could hardly be more ‘noble’ a journey or purpose for this next ‘leg of the road’ and I want to wish you very well on it.

    I also love your ‘lean’ approach to adding longed-for practices…one or two at a time, allowing space and poise to really integrate.

    So tremendously onwards! I wish you a marvelous fusion of Ways, in this new journey !

    And I so much look forward to witnessing what emerges for you….

    Its also wonderful to feel the warm presence of other people here, who found and respond to your blog, feeling the energy (salutes, good people!)

    Thanks Dave. Through your writing you touch my heart…by your openness, sincerity, responsive nature, alive heart and quest….being real and true to yourself and the new edges.

    Why am I so reminded of the Zen poets, I wonder?

    Take care,
    Carole 🙂

    • Dave Korn says:

      Carole,
      gosh. i don’t even know what to say. thank you so much. i feel all the time like i’m crazy, i’m making up all of these strange ideas and trying to live them out and i wonder if i’ve gone astray somehow. your words here help me feel less alone, make me feel as if what i am doing is okay. it’s tremendously humbling to hear that you are looking forward to seeing what happens for me, and it’s notes like this that remind me i cannot stop writing and sharing this journey with whoever would listen. so thank you, so much, for reminding me of important things. i’m honored you read this.
      Dave

  2. LadyTrvlr says:

    Dave, reflecting back on the shared drive to Florida, we shared some of the same travel/living within ourselves visions. I’m still quite a ways behind you, but I am in the same space. Continue the work and writings. I’m learning more about my internal house through your writings. Safe Trvls.

    • Dave Korn says:

      tonii,
      thanks so much for keeping in touch after all this time. you know, i still tell people about you. you remain one of the most inspiring fellow travelers i’ve met on my journey. keep wandering, keep deepening..
      blessings

  3. bryan says:

    Good stuff, man. All I know about you has been gathered from the details of your last few posts, but your wisdom and courage speaks for itself. Keep writing…I agree with the first comment that your words are reminiscent of a prophet/poet, words that change the world.

    • Dave Korn says:

      you guys are too kind. thank you so much, bryan. i’m honored that you’ve read, and humbled/amazed at what has shown through for you. thank you for re-inspiring me to keep this thing going.
      blessings.

  4. Randy Knight says:

    Hi Dave,
    From your pictures, it looks like you have wonderful views from your home!
    If your travels bring you back to the Sacramento area, look us up! We’d love to see you again.

    • Dave Korn says:

      🙂 Thank you Randy! I will certainly be out there before terribly long, and of course I will find you. Have you guys gotten a letter in the mail in the last few weeks???
      Dave

  5. Dave, you have an absolutely amazing piece of literature here. It astonishes me when I read something that I connect to so well. You are an inspiration to not only I, but any other soul who reads this.Carry on my friend, carry on. -M

    • Dave Korn says:

      M,
      thank you so much for these kind words. i’m so glad you feel a connection to my writing; i hope for this so much each time i post here. i just glanced over yours as well–you have some really beautiful ideas and i’m looking forward to reading more.
      blessings
      Dave

  6. Megan Roth says:

    Following you. Amazed as always by the warmth of your heart and the fearlessness of your soul. I know your new chapter will be written with intention and awareness. Thanks for documenting your journey and giving me, us, others, all, a belief in something real and wild and worth discovering.

    xo, and hope to give you a real hug again in the near future.

    -Megan

    • Dave Korn says:

      i don’t know why this note means so much to me. is it because there’s that semi-mysterious element of power and gratitude any time a writer’s work is read by another writer? or maybe it’s just your words themselves, the fact that in just a couple sentences you give me everything i’ve longed for across the years of this journey: to feel understood, loved, and as if what i am doing matters. maybe it’s just that i have a tremendous amount of respect for you as an artist&human and so it’s just special to hear from you, whatever it is–thank you.

  7. Neda says:

    Dave,
    I’ve read all your posts and I’m so intrigued by you. I Want an update!! How are you?? Where are you?? Keep blogging !!!

    • Dave Korn says:

      Neda,
      seriously, your encouragement is what just inspired me to respond to all these comments today and get myself working on the next piece i need to post. all i can say is thank you. you’re awesome.
      dave

  8. Karina says:

    A quote by Hermann Hesse I’ve always found inspiring:

    For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.

    Hermann Hesse

    Tags: eternity, fear, forests, history,holiness, home, life, longing, poet,roots, self-discovery, spirituality,strength, trees, trustlikeDon’t be ashamed to weep; ’tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.

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