It’s only September, and the other day we woke up to hail. This morning it was snow. Wyoming requires a certain amount of patience, but the wilderness continually leaves you feeling interconnected. Since spending a large amount of my time here, I’ve noticed that simplicity has served as a teacher. The laws of modern life mean less and less, and I’m always looking for a change in the way others treat each other and the Earth. Transformation is good, and I think it should be welcomed happily. There’s a lot I strive for now. There’s no night, where I think: “My work here is done”. I’m a dreamer to an intense degree, but let my soul soar as high as it likes. It only pushes me harder towards love.

Our cabin is all packed up and we’ll be leaving on Tuesday for the Tetons and Yellowstone. If weather permits, we’ll move on to Montana to give National Glacier Park a look-over. After that, Olympia and Seattle will be visited as well. 

I’ve never really explored the pacific northwest, so I’m pretty ecstatic. If you have any magic travel destinations you’ve found and love, do share!

We’ll be on the road until mid-December….

This is a bag that my friend Tom crafted by hand and gifted to me at dinner on Friday. He’s got a magical soul, and I’m going to miss him a lot, which made the gesture all the more wonderful. The amount of effort he put into making something so tangibly beautiful, has left me inspired and gracious. In the short time that I’ve been in Wyoming, I’ve definitely found a home in Tom and his wife and all their good-doings. They’ve made me want to be a better person and artist. And those kinds of friendships are important. They keep your heart warm.
Shown below is the knife he made for Zach. He has a workshop in the back of his house, where he works on various projects. This was just one of the many.

You can learn more about him and his creative genius here:
http://www.tomlucas.us/
xoxo
At night I sit with John Muir on the side of mountains and my dreamscape often breaks off into extreme highs and lows, with colors that pierce and shout. Sometimes my active brain is hard to shut off, but I let Zach’s breathing work as a song, while I crawl against bedsheets and growl at the cat when he decides to claw through my hair. Planning takes over when my body is finally calm though, and I envision road trips and strangers and odd owls and birds. Friends climb into long spells of technicolor, only to leave dialogue where my heart is. I wake up each morning late, with certain strands of conversation there in my memory. They are always weirdly sincere, and relevant. But like with most visions, they fade and play tricks on me. I stand in the kitchen drinking coffee, wondering if I’m overly eclectic, or just a strange kind of fairy.
The global and environmental news drifting in the last couple days, left me fucked up plenty. I kept penning stuff in journals about equality, love, and the way authority figures are always something I like to rebel against.
Charles Eisenstein’s words were read repeatedly for healing, and I seemed to warm entirely when I got an odd email newsletter from him. “Hippie ideologies aren’t entirely whack”, I remembered thinking. The economic system needs to die or be broken. It is what perpetuates a lot of the bad, a lot of the violence. Judgement is born out of fear and greed. People don’t like change, but have to realize that’s what it’s gonna take to make things better. Ya know?
Just now, a knock of reality came when Tom was at the front door, bringing us a whole loot of fresh veggies he had fetched from his mother’s garden. She died about a month ago, and still seems to gift us from above. She was a nice lady, that did the best with what she had. And hey, I’ve learned a lot from that.

At night I sit with John Muir on the side of mountains and my dreamscape often breaks off into extreme highs and lows, with colors that pierce and shout. Sometimes my active brain is hard to shut off, but I let Zach’s breathing work as a song, while I crawl against bedsheets and growl at the cat when he decides to claw through my hair. Planning takes over when my body is finally calm though, and I envision road trips and strangers and odd owls and birds. Friends climb into long spells of technicolor, only to leave dialogue where my heart is. I wake up each morning late, with certain strands of conversation there in my memory. They are always weirdly sincere, and relevant. But like with most visions, they fade and play tricks on me. I stand in the kitchen drinking coffee, wondering if I’m overly eclectic, or just a strange kind of fairy.

The global and environmental news drifting in the last couple days, left me fucked up plenty. I kept penning stuff in journals about equality, love, and the way authority figures are always something I like to rebel against.

Charles Eisenstein’s words were read repeatedly for healing, and I seemed to warm entirely when I got an odd email newsletter from him. “Hippie ideologies aren’t entirely whack”, I remembered thinking. The economic system needs to die or be broken. It is what perpetuates a lot of the bad, a lot of the violence. Judgement is born out of fear and greed. People don’t like change, but have to realize that’s what it’s gonna take to make things better. Ya know?

Just now, a knock of reality came when Tom was at the front door, bringing us a whole loot of fresh veggies he had fetched from his mother’s garden. She died about a month ago, and still seems to gift us from above. She was a nice lady, that did the best with what she had. And hey, I’ve learned a lot from that.

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On Wednesday afternoon, we met Byron. Hours before we had been lounging in bed at the cabin, prepping stuff for the trip we thought we’d take in the morning. Out of the blue though, Zee put up the option of leaving earlier. Spontaneity brought us scrambling to the car, with some basic necessities already packed in the trunk. Heading toward Lander and on south through Wyoming, we played letter games and passed smiles at each other.
A couple weeks previous, Zee had mentioned a pottery shop he had seen on our trips to Colorado. We decided this time around, that we’d give it a look. We wanted to see what it was all about. The exterior was eclectic and fun.
We ended up passing it again, on a long stretch of road into Jeffrey City. The landscape was all gold and barren, with massive mountains there in the distance. The art gallery was called Monk King Bird Pottery, and upon entering, we knew we had found a jewel. There in the front lobby, was (Byron) a scrappy artist with a head full of wild hair, and a presence that made you feel oddly invincible. A man from Washington was standing just alongside him, exchanging life and travel stories and it took just seconds to warm up to them both. There was an artistic freedom in the way we were with each other, all bound by love that didn’t really need direct communicating. 
Dialogue can be remembered from that day even now. We were invited to Byron’s birthday party in mid-September, and he said to bring anything that started with the letter B. Boobies, Brisket, Books, Babes, Bloomers.
Before leaving, we bought one of his mugs that was unfinished. Polish had only been applied on its handle and he looked at it dismayed. “Are ya sure you want that one?”, he asked before pointing out all of its blemishes. We nodded his concerns off and liked it all the same. “Just make sure there isn’t anything in it. I’ve had ladies come in and lift up my cups to look at them, only to get moldy coffee all over their shirt. And hey, I feel bad.”
His personality flew like this and we admired him for it. There was a twisted humor buried deep within, and after we had returned to our car — I made sure to get the picture above. I’m so glad I did. It’s wonderful.

Our campsite in Saratoga was great too. We parked it right by an old gentleman’s tent. Turns out he was traveling the country by motorcycle. His name was Dan and we had some nice talks. He said he wanted to live in Arkansas one day. His smile was nice and he had a very distinguished beard.

For dinner one night, we cooked vegan beans and hotdogs over a campfire. Mosquitoes played nice as long as we kept near the heat. Sleeping in our Rav4 Toyota was a challenge, but something we wanted to get to learn — being that we plan to travel continuously over the next couple months. We had with us a tent as well, but only tend to use it for longer stays.

On Wednesday afternoon, we met Byron. Hours before we had been lounging in bed at the cabin, prepping stuff for the trip we thought we’d take in the morning. Out of the blue though, Zee put up the option of leaving earlier. Spontaneity brought us scrambling to the car, with some basic necessities already packed in the trunk. Heading toward Lander and on south through Wyoming, we played letter games and passed smiles at each other.

A couple weeks previous, Zee had mentioned a pottery shop he had seen on our trips to Colorado. We decided this time around, that we’d give it a look. We wanted to see what it was all about. The exterior was eclectic and fun.

We ended up passing it again, on a long stretch of road into Jeffrey City. The landscape was all gold and barren, with massive mountains there in the distance. The art gallery was called Monk King Bird Pottery, and upon entering, we knew we had found a jewel. There in the front lobby, was (Byron) a scrappy artist with a head full of wild hair, and a presence that made you feel oddly invincible. A man from Washington was standing just alongside him, exchanging life and travel stories and it took just seconds to warm up to them both. There was an artistic freedom in the way we were with each other, all bound by love that didn’t really need direct communicating. 

Dialogue can be remembered from that day even now. We were invited to Byron’s birthday party in mid-September, and he said to bring anything that started with the letter B. Boobies, Brisket, Books, Babes, Bloomers.

Before leaving, we bought one of his mugs that was unfinished. Polish had only been applied on its handle and he looked at it dismayed. “Are ya sure you want that one?”, he asked before pointing out all of its blemishes. We nodded his concerns off and liked it all the same. “Just make sure there isn’t anything in it. I’ve had ladies come in and lift up my cups to look at them, only to get moldy coffee all over their shirt. And hey, I feel bad.”

His personality flew like this and we admired him for it. There was a twisted humor buried deep within, and after we had returned to our car — I made sure to get the picture above. I’m so glad I did. It’s wonderful.

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Our campsite in Saratoga was great too. We parked it right by an old gentleman’s tent. Turns out he was traveling the country by motorcycle. His name was Dan and we had some nice talks. He said he wanted to live in Arkansas one day. His smile was nice and he had a very distinguished beard.

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For dinner one night, we cooked vegan beans and hotdogs over a campfire. Mosquitoes played nice as long as we kept near the heat. Sleeping in our Rav4 Toyota was a challenge, but something we wanted to get to learn — being that we plan to travel continuously over the next couple months. We had with us a tent as well, but only tend to use it for longer stays.

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Got lost on a mountain peak a couple days ago and let the wind blow me down hard. It was the type of thing that tested the soul. Tiny butterflies flew by at my feet, while I tromped up dirt and rock. At the top of one cliff, I swung my legs over the edge and read a short story by Roald Dahl. I smiled, content.
The sky was a stormy color with flecks of darkness looming close. At any moment it could have started to rain, so I began to seek out trees in the distance. I started naming them: Artemis, Belinda, Lenore. I found such happiness in the unfortunate. I was just glad to be out on my own. The wind served as a kiss from a good friend. I was happy to be adventuring.
On the way down the peak, I realized that my pick of shoes was idiotic. I had slung on my rain boots for fear that there’d be standing water in the back ranch pastures. There hadn’t been though, and now I was sliding through sand-like dirt, down a long mountain landscape with prickly cactus showing up in silly places. After sliding down the hillsides and pretending I was in Hawaii surfing somewhere much more timid then the victorious North Shore, I finally got my wits together and made a plan. Eyes open, I took a deep breath.
Walking towards the rocky waterfalls to the east, I was able to find green land that was far less treacherous to trek through. Nearing the bottom by the horse stables, I screamed in delight only to be confronted by Zooey — a beautiful Roan Appaloosa. She held her head high and let me stroke her neck.
Besides that, there have been many other exciting happenings in my life:
1. Me and Zee have decided to leave Wyoming by mid-September. Although we adore the ranch we live on, we’ve also started desiring a place of our own. And although it’d be ideal to be able to afford a property out here in the wilds of the west, we really want to explore our options and travel over parts of the country we haven’t spent that much time in. Wanderlust has won again.
2. Zee’s mom offered to let us live on her 90 acre homestead in upstate NY, so that’s always an option and safe haven for us. It’s there, that his mom has a beautiful garden of food she’s grown herself, as well as a beekeeper station, and various old barns that we’ve all wanted to convert into gathering spots for artists. A place where people of the community could come to learn how to knit or sew, or even play their guitar and read poetry. Neat, yes?
3. I’ve been working at a restaurant in town and finally finished there a couple days ago. My boss is and will forever be a life long friend, so I’m glad to have had the experience. Now, I’m just focused on writing and prepping for future travel excursions. It’s a change I needed. I’m excited for what’s next.

Got lost on a mountain peak a couple days ago and let the wind blow me down hard. It was the type of thing that tested the soul. Tiny butterflies flew by at my feet, while I tromped up dirt and rock. At the top of one cliff, I swung my legs over the edge and read a short story by Roald Dahl. I smiled, content.

The sky was a stormy color with flecks of darkness looming close. At any moment it could have started to rain, so I began to seek out trees in the distance. I started naming them: Artemis, Belinda, Lenore. I found such happiness in the unfortunate. I was just glad to be out on my own. The wind served as a kiss from a good friend. I was happy to be adventuring.

On the way down the peak, I realized that my pick of shoes was idiotic. I had slung on my rain boots for fear that there’d be standing water in the back ranch pastures. There hadn’t been though, and now I was sliding through sand-like dirt, down a long mountain landscape with prickly cactus showing up in silly places. After sliding down the hillsides and pretending I was in Hawaii surfing somewhere much more timid then the victorious North Shore, I finally got my wits together and made a plan. Eyes open, I took a deep breath.

Walking towards the rocky waterfalls to the east, I was able to find green land that was far less treacherous to trek through. Nearing the bottom by the horse stables, I screamed in delight only to be confronted by Zooey — a beautiful Roan Appaloosa. She held her head high and let me stroke her neck.

Besides that, there have been many other exciting happenings in my life:

1. Me and Zee have decided to leave Wyoming by mid-September. Although we adore the ranch we live on, we’ve also started desiring a place of our own. And although it’d be ideal to be able to afford a property out here in the wilds of the west, we really want to explore our options and travel over parts of the country we haven’t spent that much time in. Wanderlust has won again.

2. Zee’s mom offered to let us live on her 90 acre homestead in upstate NY, so that’s always an option and safe haven for us. It’s there, that his mom has a beautiful garden of food she’s grown herself, as well as a beekeeper station, and various old barns that we’ve all wanted to convert into gathering spots for artists. A place where people of the community could come to learn how to knit or sew, or even play their guitar and read poetry. Neat, yes?

3. I’ve been working at a restaurant in town and finally finished there a couple days ago. My boss is and will forever be a life long friend, so I’m glad to have had the experience. Now, I’m just focused on writing and prepping for future travel excursions. It’s a change I needed. I’m excited for what’s next.

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The days are full of color, but my notebooks have been short-listed — made to contain only tiny streams of photographs etched into one with a wine-like language that gets me intoxicated. I carry instead large moments in my chest and storm around trying not to feel like I’m riding low under water, unable to get to the surface that forever brings me back to childish memories of Hawaiian palm trees. I taste the ocean and weep.
The country-side that surrounds all I know, makes me into that of a red fox. I bury ambition sometimes if only for comfortability, even though I know that as a mistake. Substantial living and livelihood is found in art and the gardens I like to wander near home. I have yet to let go of the ‘Tasha Tudor’ dream of owning a nice plot of land, only to work within the seasons and grow my own food and love. The days open up in the eyes of the man I trust most. It is in partnership that we find ways to fight the evils of society. In bed, we put the past to sleep. We burn fire and make light.
In many ways, I am evolving.

The weather was fantastic yesterday, what with the sun casting gold on everything. My boys spent most of the afternoon in the community garden, prepping the ground for Wyoming’s late growing season. The creek by our house is looking better and better every day too, now that we’ve cleared back dead trees and have rid the stream of leaves. We even made plans to add in a waterfall! Umphrey enjoys being outdoors, sniffing well odorous splendors…..

You can click here, to see some more pictures of a hike me and Zee took.

Woke up early and took a walk with my love. While narrowing in towards the river, we bumped into our neighbors Tim and Mary who were headed to Riverton. Their smiles cast similar ones on our faces, and later we saw our friend Tom clearing a field of willows in one of the back pastures. We drank black coffee with a splash of almond milk and let mother nature knock hard at our chests, before returning home to our cabin. The birds chirped wild.

Work came and went by fast. Odd smells flash back in remembrance. Today Barb made hot and sour soup, with specks of broccoli and carrots bathing in it. We closed the restaurant early and I sped out some time after three. I felt close to a character in a McCullers novel. All tired, and yet still enlivened.

At home now, we’ve got the wood stove keeping us warm. Zee is cooking up some cauliflower and mushroom risotto, while I drink wine and type. In many ways I’m a butterfly. The days transform and bring forth sincere laughter.

Woke up early and took a walk with my love. While narrowing in towards the river, we bumped into our neighbors Tim and Mary who were headed to Riverton. Their smiles cast similar ones on our faces, and later we saw our friend Tom clearing a field of willows in one of the back pastures. We drank black coffee with a splash of almond milk and let mother nature knock hard at our chests, before returning home to our cabin. The birds chirped wild.

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Work came and went by fast. Odd smells flash back in remembrance. Today Barb made hot and sour soup, with specks of broccoli and carrots bathing in it. We closed the restaurant early and I sped out some time after three. I felt close to a character in a McCullers novel. All tired, and yet still enlivened.

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At home now, we’ve got the wood stove keeping us warm. Zee is cooking up some cauliflower and mushroom risotto, while I drink wine and type. In many ways I’m a butterfly. The days transform and bring forth sincere laughter.

Valerie is new on the ranch and stopped by the cabin earlier to say hi and chat. About a week ago, she moved in and we all had dinner at Tom and Tammy’s. She’s a retired art teacher and always has good stories to share. 
The last couple weeks have been life-changing. It’s nice waking up early and brewing some coffee, only to step outside and breathe in mountain air.
I just finished a book called The Ways of My Grandmothers by Beverly Hungry Wolf, and ever since have been carrying its stories in the heart with zest.
The portrait above was crafted by Winold Reiss, of a Blackfoot tribal member. I thought the colors of it all really best represent the amount of respect this tribe has had towards their gift of life. It’s something I admire and can relate to.
Routines have spoke and I find myself turning to printed songs, looking for answers in the script that others have bled before me. If anything, it is an escape that my imagination can curl up in. Like a lone wolf, I’ve let my surroundings provide a place of refuge. The mountains stand tall and I am in awe of the beauty that I was born into. It is then that I fill up with questions though. Why has humanity forgotten that wealth? Why have they clung more to dirty scraps of paper with silly numbers that work as a disillusioned agreement that requires slavery and competition and greed? Why is it so hard to speak to our fellow man and offer them food from our own gardens?
I struggle with these things, and lick up further the light I’ve been handed, by showering my thanks in the river close to home. Each day after toiling away in deep thought, providing society with smiles — I come home to my little cabin and walk to the water with a journal in tote. I sing, I talk, I cry, and share my secrets with the birds. And they listen just as well as anyone.
They provide me with warmth.
And it is then that I have these visions. These visions of a better world. Ones that lift me and get me wild, and have me circle the truth with great honesty.
Tom who lives on the ranch I do, had me come over and borrow a great heap of things to read from his library at home. He’s a fascinating man, with a musical smile. He’s older and has lived a long life and because of that, has a lot to teach me. He lives in a farmhouse that dates back to the 1800s, with his wife Tammy that quilts and is always making sure me and Zach are well provided for. Yesterday she stopped by to ask if we needed fresh eggs and offered to pay half for a vegetable basket of locally grown food that we could share. Her acts of kindness also show in the way her eyes spark tranquil.
Their friendship is the wholesome kind that stands the test of time, and they give without ever thinking of anything in return. Likewise, I feel compelled to do the same. There is a community being created between us, and it fills me with immeasurable happiness. Home is had here, because there is love and the ability to be free. I’m learning daily, good things that make my heart swell.

I just finished a book called The Ways of My Grandmothers by Beverly Hungry Wolf, and ever since have been carrying its stories in the heart with zest.

The portrait above was crafted by Winold Reiss, of a Blackfoot tribal member. I thought the colors of it all really best represent the amount of respect this tribe has had towards their gift of life. It’s something I admire and can relate to.

Routines have spoke and I find myself turning to printed songs, looking for answers in the script that others have bled before me. If anything, it is an escape that my imagination can curl up in. Like a lone wolf, I’ve let my surroundings provide a place of refuge. The mountains stand tall and I am in awe of the beauty that I was born into. It is then that I fill up with questions though. Why has humanity forgotten that wealth? Why have they clung more to dirty scraps of paper with silly numbers that work as a disillusioned agreement that requires slavery and competition and greed? Why is it so hard to speak to our fellow man and offer them food from our own gardens?

I struggle with these things, and lick up further the light I’ve been handed, by showering my thanks in the river close to home. Each day after toiling away in deep thought, providing society with smiles — I come home to my little cabin and walk to the water with a journal in tote. I sing, I talk, I cry, and share my secrets with the birds. And they listen just as well as anyone.

They provide me with warmth.

And it is then that I have these visions. These visions of a better world. Ones that lift me and get me wild, and have me circle the truth with great honesty.

Tom who lives on the ranch I do, had me come over and borrow a great heap of things to read from his library at home. He’s a fascinating man, with a musical smile. He’s older and has lived a long life and because of that, has a lot to teach me. He lives in a farmhouse that dates back to the 1800s, with his wife Tammy that quilts and is always making sure me and Zach are well provided for. Yesterday she stopped by to ask if we needed fresh eggs and offered to pay half for a vegetable basket of locally grown food that we could share. Her acts of kindness also show in the way her eyes spark tranquil.

Their friendship is the wholesome kind that stands the test of time, and they give without ever thinking of anything in return. Likewise, I feel compelled to do the same. There is a community being created between us, and it fills me with immeasurable happiness. Home is had here, because there is love and the ability to be free. I’m learning daily, good things that make my heart swell.