Into the Wild is one of the most amazing movies I’ve ever seen, and certainly one of the greatest stories of American escapist idealism in the “Go West, young man” vein. Not much else needs to be said about a plot which deserves to be seen with as little previous knowledge as possible, but the idea of living outside of our conventional wisdom, without the safety of our shelters filled with the familiarity of our amassed belongings in the assuredness of our savings banks, it’s a truly enticing dream. One I would surely love to live, free, truly free, and on a road that can keep summer always on your back if you’d like; one that can show you the desert dawn and a Rocky Mountain sunset all in the same day.
A sadness sinks all heavy on my soul as Autumn’s leaves so quickly lose their grasp on the trees. Halloween is a grand festival to look forward to under the burned out hues of nature proceeding, and as we ready our costumes and purchase our Oktoberfests and children eye up the expanded candy aisles it’s easy to forget the disappearing Summer behind us. But now, with those rites in bloom and about to disappear 365 away and into obscurity, we begin to face Winter. Certainly, just as Halloween does for Autumn so does the Yuletide spirit of exchanging gifts, lighted trees and New Year’s Eve celebrations put off the excessive daunting overwhelming of a long, hard Winter, but it’s real, and it’s coming. The cold temperatures, the daily rituals necessary to arrive my son off at school everyday, the persistent necessity to work harder and longer to make up for lost time spent simply living whatever Summer settings we wanted for, they all make for near impossibilities when the strong, kicking, bucking, throwing, slamming and too difficult to tame draw of adventure, travel, heading for sunsets more and more Western pilfers the heart and mind and there’s nothing worse than cabin fever for a soul, particularly one afflicted with a lifelong condition such as this.
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