The Runaway Log

Where is the Wild?Where is the wild,     The place where beasts roam,     And are free?     Who released them from cages,     And imprisoned you and me?     We are not made     Just to survive day-to-day   But the big hand says WORK     And so we slave away     I long to be one of the   Wild and free     Not burdened by     The day-to-day     Free to simply BE   ©Tanzen Lilly July 2019

a face more beautiful than God         I want to run someplace     so far away that no one can   recall the look of my face or   the sound of my name     to be free to run someplace   where the only sound is the   heart of the wind beating   under the wings of the eagle   and the red tail       to be free to be the lone     wolf hunting beneath an   icy winter moon painted     white with frost     to be free of the nagging     expectations of others       to be free to live by one's     own will, convictions and   courage       freedom is the only gift   with a face more beautiful     than God

I am extremely jealous of all the tiny-housers and the off-the-grid-livers. The complete independence must feel incredibly empowering. The security of being able to provide for yourself off the work you did on your own land is something that I yearn to experience. The satisfaction of owning your own home outright. I’d like to own a Volkswagen camper. Carry my home with me wherever I go, just like a turtle. I would visit all the national parks. Every single one of them. Spend some days doing nothing but hiking and swimming and sketching. I’d become a sun chaser. Migrate south for the winter. I would never have to wear anything more than a tank top and shorts. I’d let the sun bleach my hair, and grow it out nice and long. I’d finally have time to learn an instrument, or perfect my Spanish. Yeah, that sounds like a plan. But first I’ll need a driver’s license.

My favorite movies have always been the ones about secret uncharted islands in the middle of the ocean, where someone gets shipwrecked and has to survive in some never-before-touched-by-human-hands paradise. I always wonder why their first instinct is to find a way off. After they realize there are no human inhabitants, they start knocking down trees to build a raft. If this ever happened to me, I would be ecstatic! I would feel as though I had won the lottery. Not only had I just defied death, but I would never have to see another human being ever again for the rest of my life! I would be the queen of my own island, master of my own destiny.

I hate things. I have too much stuff. I often fantasize about abandoning all of my possessions, dawning a bed sheet, and taking to the streets with nothing but a camper cup. Perhaps first I’ll bike out to the wilderness. I don’t like people either. I just want to be alone with my thoughts; survive completely independently from humanity. Hunt for myself, and build my own fires. Discover all of the most beautiful views and sounds. Name my own constellations. Live as simply as I can for as long as I can. Forget every detail of my old life. Discover who I really am.

I haven’t breathed a deep breathe that didn’t end in a sigh since I was probably five years old. As I grow older, the weight life, of materialism, consumerism, of misstep after mistake, has weighed down on me, and is slowly but surely crushing me. I think that stress is actually killing me. But that’s too slow a way to go. I can’t just sit back and submit, watch my life go by without ever questioning its meaning. I don’t want to live life for anyone else but myself. I want to be able to breathe deeply and fully, without the crushing weight of doubt and fear pushing back on my lungs.

It’s 4:45 pm. I’ve been watching the clock for an hour. It seems like the hands are moving slower and slower. I’m working my shift at the Grocer’s; I get off in 15 minutes. I’ve been working this same job for nearly 10 years, and I only recently started asking myself: What’s next? The customer line for my counter is 5 carts deep and growing. Only two other people working checkout. Will Elise be on time for once? I wonder. I try to keep a smile as I ring up and then bag, ring up, bag… What time is it now? 4:46? C’mon… Finally it’s 5 and Elise taps me on the shoulder. “Hey girl! Have a good night!” She says, and motions that it’s ok for me to go. I run to the back and clock out. There’s an envelope waiting there on the table for me, a cash advance on the next paycheck. My boss thought it was a weird request, but I told him it was for a birthday present for my mom. I grab my bag from my locker, and stuff my apron and hat in its place. I take a deep breathe as the back door slams behind me. It’s time. I get in my car and head for the interstate. I’ll drive all night until just before sunrise, and then park my car somewhere on the side of the road where there’s a beautiful view. I’ll be hundreds of miles away. I wonder when someone will notice I’m gone. If someone will notice. It won’t matter anyway; they’ll have no way of knowing where I’ve run off to.

I’ve thought about running away many times. Fantasies about getting on an amtrak train and never getting off. Or hitchhiking into the southwest and picking up a waitressing job in some middle-of-nowhere diner. Mainly just picking up and leaving without much to weigh me down. Wouldn’t it be nice to just forget about all the obstacles and obligations that stand between you and your happiest self? Just leave all the small talk and deadlines and birthdays behind to find some truer, deeper meaning. To sleep under the stars, and actually see the stars! To smell the fresh, clean air with every inhale and exhale. To hear every variety of bird song imaginable, and have the time to sit, and listen, and know.

Should I bring the cat? He’s never been outdoors. At least, not that I know of. I could get one of those backpacks with a mesh window. I would have to get a leash too, and bring a dish for water. His hairbrush, his nail clippers… No, what am I saying? Once I get to the forest I should just turn him loose. He would have to get used to the wilderness lifestyle. Return to nature, just like me. If I’m lucky, He’ll still choose to follow me wherever I go. He could hunt for his food, and I for mine. We could lounge about by streams of water, staring at the fish under the surface. I wonder if these are the kinds of things he secretly yearns for, like a part of him is missing and he doesn’t even know what to call it.

By the time the sun rears its head and the birds are waking each other up, I’ve already been riding for 2 hours. The space between houses spreads further and further, and the growth at the side of the road turns more wild. I haven’t stopped, haven’t even thought about where I might go. Just focusing on putting distance between me and the nine-to-five, the crowded train cars, the flashing lights and incessant noise of city life. I’m heading west. And that’s all I do for about 2 more hours, until I become aware of sloping mountains of deep green in the distance. They seem endless as they disappear into the morning fog. I decide I’m going to bike to the top of one of those mountains. Maybe that will help me to start seeing things more clearly.

Because every little thing stresses me out. I’ve spent so much time worrying that my hair is actually starting to turn gray. Because everything costs money. And no matter how hard I work and how much I earn, it never adds up. It always gets spent. Because life is more than being paid by the hour. Life is more than worrying about what other people think of you. Life is more than scrolling endlessly through social media homepages. Life is more than the next generation of phones or computers or gaming devices. Life is more than living in the same place all your life and seeing the same faces every day and waking up one morning and realizing what the hell have you actually done with your life? Because nothing really matters. What is the point? Not this. Not bills, not debt, not sporting events or expensive kitchen appliances. Because I want a real chance at happiness. I want to live life on my terms, and be responsible for my own well being, my own survival.

Today is the day. The alarm clock goes off at 5:30 am. I can’t turn off that blaring intrusive noise fast enough. I jump in the shower. I savor each spurting lap of steaming hot water as it caresses my bare skin. This could be my last shower for perhaps…ever … I think. After lingering for about 5 minutes too long inside the embrace of the artificial waterfall, I towel off, comb my hair, and work it into two neat, even braids. As I brush my teeth, I start to pack my bag with toiletries. Hairbrush, nail clippers, dental floss….hair ties, bobby pins. I open the cabinet and fish for the spare toothbrushes at the back. I’ll need these eventually I say to myself. I also pack some bars of soap, tubes of toothpaste, dry shampoo. After I brush my teeth I rinse the brush and nearly place it back on the holder before I remember; and pack that too. I’ve packed my backpack with a sleeping bag and mat, a change of clothes, all the cash I have to my name, all the non-perishable food from my kitchen that I care to take with me, a blank notebook, some pens, and the toiletries. I get dressed, pick up my bag, and go out to the garage. I check the wheels of my bike for air, and then I feel silly because I already did that last night. Whelp, this is it then. Wish me luck.