Stranded in Asatak ("don't be fuelish!")

With gas prices at an all-time, choke-inducing, budget-destroying high, now more than ever the average (ignorant) American is finding ways to cut back gas. ' "Don't be fuelish!" says the little fairy!' also known as a local gas-hog-attacking awareness campaign at my office. It's become a staple in my day-to-day vernacular, because, seriously, its about time people stepped up and joined the frugal and conservationist-minded...if it takes threats on quality-of-life, so be it.

I may not carpool to work as the campaign desires (listen. I can't, I "Direct!"), but I cut my gallivanting in town down to a sheer minimum, encourage week-night sleepovers whenever possible, and host cocktail hours at home rather than rounding everyone out to the bar. I'm doing my part.

But seriously...

Now watch and listen as I transform myself into a monumental hypocrite.

So...we went away for the weekend. My friends and I hopped in cars and sped down the Parks to our destination of choice...and ended up in a whole new location altogether. We planned to run a race and celebrate the midnight sun (both of which we did) and return to life as normal, life uninterrupted, life as we know it.

The problem with planning too much, as I've stated before (specifically seen in: " 'Reflecting a theme of withdrawal from the world', or 'don't let your boat become a house' ") is that the act of planning far surpasses the execution of the plan itself. You can't just plan the thing to death and expect it to go, well, "as planned". Life will be interrupted. Life becomes something we don't know all-too-well.

Exhibit A: Solstice road trip 2008. Sans actual race itself, the weekend was less than impressive. There were illnesses, unexpected departures, smelly apartment floors for sleeping, race day blues, and a weekend's-worth of bad weather. At the conclusion of the excursion we were glad to hop into gasoline-guzzling "fuelish" cars if but only for the sake of getting back to our own god-forsaken town....where we could see blue skies embracing the endless hours of sunlight in the distance.

En route however, despite the desperate measures to make up for a weekend of crumbs and gruel with games of grab-ass and camp songs in the car, as it turns out, we unexpectedly got stranded in Asatak. It's in the panhandle. And it's hell.

Trench/ Fortify

Fortune of the day: "Prevention is better than cure! (today do something that could save you a lot of future hassle.) "





In the classic game of 'Risk: a Game of World Domination', prevention looks like a fortification of literal forces to ensure one's safety within their own territory; a conscious forethought as means of protection against the unexpected and the unwarranted, particularly in one's own home(land). No one likes a hassle in their home. It's best to then surround this space with a water body, a wall, or a long deep hole. i.e. trench.

Tactically, I suppose one fortifies for the offensive too...after all, if the goal is to take over the world, one has got to be ready for anything, including the know of where to throw stones. And when. Unfortunately, I'm not one to offer up initial moves.

In the march forward I naturally bring up the rear, feel out the pace, let someone else lay the groundwork but remain engaged and committed for clinch decisions (and also because I really do care where we end up!).But like a sled dog might I then take off running in full sprint, forgetting my role and overlooking future hassle in the excitement of new territory. I only acknowledged this trait while literally hiking, but I'm drawing parallel lines right now.

Defensively speaking, preventively speaking, however, I'm guessing that to protect your own home(space) and assure preparedness for impending onslaughts, the simple, logical thing to do would include the creation of a 'safe zone', fortified with troops and complete with a deep furrow, beyond whence invading parties cannot penetrate. (I've heard this works with fires). Therein, at least if your nature is not one of alpha standards (attack first, recover later!), you can still 'protect what's yours', so-to-speak; what I mean is, maintain your sacred space.

With maturity, I've been striving to have the forethought to keep my sacred space with a modest trench surrounding and metaphorical troops on guard; I try to be ready for anything and be in the periphery of my own reaction, doubt...stockpiling logical decisions for initial breakdowns. It's easier to fortify sooner than later....better for picking up pieces...

But herein lies the reason I will never succeed at world domination: I see the threat of vulnerability looming and forget to dig a trench and bring my troops to the front line...fortify. Instead I tramp right in smiling, heart on sleeve and hoping things will go my way.

A downfall? To some I suppose. But I say hey, stick to what you know. 'Risk' the future hassle at the odds of an opportune moment and a handful of good timing.

Upended

If you run inside my peripheral circle then you've already heard the mantra on the birch of alaska...

and I quote:

[the matchstick birch lines up
meticulously,
shielding my more common
persona and allowing the
development of pieces of me
I would desire,
and have been striving
to present with bird-like freedom
carelessness and pick-up-and-go traits.

but still on off days where I retreat too far in
I uncover the poor-first-impression and
the running against time
that has always been there.... 07.03.07]


Indeed, from a distance the vertically linear birch and aspen present a perfect alignment of natural organization. So straight, so seemingly with-care-placed, they suggest a certain order to things. Overcoming the dry and mangle-y black spruce on the south sides of things and seeking higher ground, they seem to dig themselves out of boggy trenches stand atop the hill, looking down...

...and I mean let's face it, who wants to settle for the murky life in a low-lying swamp anyway? (as a spokesperson for muddling, I venture no-one. I've spent my last year or so digging out of that sort of existence.)

But I digress...

As we humans know, all "order" maintains at its core some element of chaos; the swirling epicenter from which all control, all organization, originates. We journey to the center and seek the eye of the storm (where we can stand tall, still and birch-straight) through careful navigation (there's only one way into it) knowing full-well the threat of upheaval is always looming, not unlike the path of an unpredictable, tumulting tornado-storm. I'm learning only a select few of us find satisfaction in the act of being tumbled more than achieving the inner eye.

"Out back" in the boreal forest, where I work, where black spruce and those soldier-straight birch co-exist, the thaw is slow, the ground wet. There, last week, I turned on a dime to see one solitary birch tree tossed on its side and exposed at the roots, as if toppled over by whimsy or consequence. Order subjected to the storm of natural unpredictability. "Upended tree" I said aloud.

My metaphor-seeking, ever-internalizing mind went to work, as "upended" tends to find itself on the list of words to describe transitions in the phases of my life quite often. Through most of these transitions the upending has been associated with internal confusion, frustration, disappointment, at times even temporary surrender. But these days the swirling movement which encircles coincides with all things good.

As I stood admiring this fallen birch, all vulnerable with roots exposed, I thought: is upending always detrimental? In human terms, for those whose lives resemble the shape of a square, I propose the answer is "indeed". Thwarting plans where all four sides adjoin makes the square-shape become categorically undefined. Sure we all might, by human nature, attempt to organize a stick-straight-birch life-course as far in front as the eye can see, but only the malleable, intuitive and progressive souls can appreciate, no embrace, an unexpected overturning. I've got arms for mine.