I think sometimes it’s useful to think of life like a chance encounter in the wilderness with a water fountain that dispenses lemonade. The modern instinct (aside from acting out your awe) is to think of a way to bring it back to civilization, or collect it for use later, or share it with friends, or sell it. The realization that your waterproof hands are no good for carrying liquids can be a bit exasperating. I think the trick is just to drink and drink and do your best to ignore your instincts. It’ll be gone soon, and even taking it in won’t stop that.

Were you to ask “why” repeatedly about anything in your life you would be left speechless. The big picture of the grander scheme of things from 10,000 feet is nothing. Similarly if you look at the details of every facet and iterate repeatedly, getting closer and closer to what you aim to observe, it ceases to exist. Like the blueness of the sky, or a mirage. There is nothing there.

We exist floating between two slices of nothingness, and the challenge is to resist flying off the planet or digging a hole through the floor. As tempting as it is to dismantle the illusion and discover what reality “really is”, our existence within the apparition defies attempts to break free of it. Our life depends on it.

In Western society, the mass of distractions be they advertising or diversions or endless consumption threaten to push us to higher and higher levels of abstraction to stay afloat. We cannot comprehend every detail of our existence so we create layers on top of layers in order to comprehend our world. But as we float higher we are pushed further from the sweetness that is found in the center of simplicity and complex beauty. For some, the momentum of the flood forces them out of reality into a dream world where actions have no real consequence.

• Nature, in the common sense of the term (such as trees and mountains and dirt) is infinitely more complex than human creation. It is the result not of a system the size of a human brain, but of a system the size of the universe. But when nature becomes a commodity on which to build our creations, we are forced to rob it of its inherent beauty in order that we can comprehend it sufficiently to use it.
• Humans are very complicated beings with long histories and a stunning number of facets of personality. But if we are to manage them, they cannot be fully human. A human who has feelings and acts irrationally and desires contradictory goals cannot be modeled well. On the converse, a human unmodelled cannot be truly interacted with without creating the model. Follow without leading.
• Tragedy can be radiant if we allow it full expression. By limiting our investigation of events to a simple balance of positive and negative, the emergent properties must be stripped out. The human condition is defined rather than fluid. The simple answers are blocking us from the richness that they try to hide. Deeper than “this was bad, but it brought people together”. Deeper than bad or good.

The solution is to be less explicit. Not everything has to be conveyed. Save a picture in MS Paint in black and white and you’ll never see it in color again. Traveling between the levels of consciousness (complexity) takes practice, but enables you to see the beauty of brokenness and marvel at the enormity of human history in the same cycle of inhale and exhale.

There is a quixotic idea out there that might take hold of you like an addiction, the side effect being this senseless questioning. And there is no cure. The doors shut behind you and there is no way out. You hope that someone might stumble in and find you, but you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Ah, I suspected as much, you see. That strange affection I felt for you had a sense to it then. In Paris you practice the noble profession of lawyer! I sensed that we were of the same species. Are we not all alike, constantly talking and to no one, forever up against the same questions although we know the answers in advance?” ~Albert Camus, The Fall

I think one of the rites of passage as we grow older is forming inquisitions without curiosity: painting pictures of our souls by mixing wisdom with its antithesis. And with these little gem “curiosities”, if they could be called that, we can seek out those who feel similarly in order that we might enjoy the silent fraternity of knowing that we are not alone in our wanderings.

A long while ago, Julie mentioned she wanted to find a place, a hideout of sorts, where she could keep stuff and a group of us could hang out. We decided to name it Whataburger so that people wouldn’t think anything of it when we were talking about it (this is when I lived near Whataburger). I personally managed to fool two people. It was awesome.

After we had decided (by we, I mean Jonathan, Julie, and I) to go through with this, I went to Wal-Mart and bought a kerosene lantern. It leaked, smelled, and made a terrible amount of soot so much that you had to clean the glass every few hours if you wanted light. I loved it. That night we searched by a dentist’s office, behind some apartments, everywhere it seemed for the perfect place to begin our utopia. We didn’t succeed.

Several days later, it dawned on me. I went to Academy and bought a machete. I parked my car at Research Park, walked a few hundred yards up the road, and ran across the street to dive into the brush. Much to my surprise the bush did not give way and open up to a beautiful hangout spot. Bleeding a bit, I found the best way was to hit the ground and crawl along where the bushes didn’t grow. I crawled for what felt like half a mile (but was actually more like a hundred yards) and stopped when I hit water. Looking up, there was a triangle of three trees. This would be it. I began hacking away a little cove and eventually gave in, deciding that now (two hours later) would be the ideal time to dig an “entrance” to this spot. This was more laborious than initially expected. Three hours later I made it back to the road: bruised, bloody, and elated with my creation.

I called Jonathan because I intended to surprise Julie. He came out with me and CP’s ax and we tore a much bigger hole. The idea came to us to put a hammock there, so we went to Wal-Mart and bought a hammock and put it in. This was sweet. Julie came the next day and was ecstatic. This was it.

We decided on a few rules (many of which would test our mettle later on) which included the fact that only Jonathan, Julie, and I (with a stipulation for a girlfriend if Jonathan would let his guard down) would be allowed. The idea was that more people would contaminate the atmosphere as they brought new friends.  I think Julie wanted more rules, but I was much more interested in the construction aspect than the secret club aspect. Jonathan just loved hanging out.

We lit the lantern every time we went out there.

Whataburger expanded drastically the next few months. We went on excursions to a nearby lake filled with Nutria (though I thought were snakes when I saw them in the water), to the edges of the plot of land we were on (which was actually bounded by highway), and many times just to our site to hang out. Additional coves were created called “Franchises”. We intended to make several but only ended up with a few. One of them had a fire pit and required burrowing right through a giant bush. In order to get there, you had to step over a downed telephone line (more later) and the “devil bush” that was covered in thorns. When we first set it up I was really worried about the tree overhead and didn’t want it to catch fire. Jonathan and I, along with an ax of our own purchased from Academy, downed that tree in a process that took nearly four hours. It was a success not because it came down, but because it didn’t fall on us. The fear in my heart as I heard the first cracking when it starting coming down was incredible.

There were several other times that got my heart pumping. Jonathan and I were digging another Franchise one day when a huge limb fell off the tree above and landed right between us. Widowmakers, I learned they were called, were a very real danger for loggers. We had no idea. When the fire got out of control I always imagined busting out of there to look back at the whole woods ablaze. I wouldn’t tell a soul.

One of the more ambitious undertakings of Whataburger was building a treehouse, which stirred up quite a bit of controversy among the less impulsive members of the group who were concerned with safety. We built it straight up a tree that I couldn’t free climb using a method that I still think is novel. I wrapped a rope around the back of the tree and leaned out against it to hold me up. Then I would screw a specially designed foothold into the tree and step up, dragging the rope with me. This process took several days with Julie and Jonathan tying things to ropes to pull up to me and orienting the climb. The view from the top was awesome. Not incredible like Niagra falls, but awesome because we did it. Several of the footholds slipped out of the tree. That was scary.

We added two more hammocks in the shape of a triangle and meant to sleep out there. I slept twice, during the winter, and was freezing (largely because I had a crochet blanket). We did smoke a lot of cigars, made apple cider, and cooked hot dogs. Adam Porter visited once. We justified it by saying he had no interest in telling anyone.

The plan was always to bequeath Whataburger to successive generations, hoping that it’d still be there when we came back years later. It just so happens that after a long summer and the majority of the winter I did go back to find the place ransacked and torn up. All of our stuff that we had accumulated in a box there for supplies was gone (saws, axes, shovels, lamps, blankets, food, etc). There was a four-wheeler wide hole in the side of the main site that led straight to the downed telephone line. You could see how the lantern gave us away. I nearly cried.

Who were we to think music could change the world
as we read over the dying and dead, thinking
that anything could be different than it already was

If we look shallowly off-center, deeply away
the heart of the issue is plain to see
systematically clean, perfectly misunderstood

But how its changed is pondered complete
never actually affected
we never were good at that part

Staring into the windows of universes we’d like to live
we grow older burgeoning with regret
for never going in.