The Mad Minstrel

We are constantly bombarded with content. Everywhere you turn there is something new to feed your brain cells and, as technology has grown, the information swirls and dances around us, like an invisible current- forever connecting us to everything.

Except… There was a block of time in my childhood where I was plucked from these modern days and set down upon a mountain to live like a cave person, or so I thought at the time.

Pre-mountain living: My earliest memories are of living in a city on the West coast. There was noise and chaos all the time, I loved it. Looking back… I’m glad I got out when I did. Did you know, I knew gang signs when I was five years old? My brother was being recruited for a gang when he was eight. I had seen drive-by shootings and murder scenes before my tenth birthday. It was an insane life but I didn’t know any different. I had friends, I had school, and I had an awesome family. Why would I care about a bit of violence… that was the way of the world, right?

On the Mountain: When my parents first moved us to live in a one room cabin on the side of a mountain, I thought they were insane. There was no indoor plumbing, we had a wood stove for heat and cooking, and there was a bathhouse for everything else. I thought I had been sent to hell.

We woke up at four’o’clock in the morning to eat breakfast and get ready for school. Mom would make oatmeal or potatoes on the wood stove while my brother and I took turns in the bathhouse.

The world was quiet.

My brother and I would wait for the bus, standing in the dark and naming constellations in the sky. When we got home from school we did our chores- chopping wood, shoveling snow, building fences, canning food- it was hard work but it had to be done. After chores, we’d have supper and do our homework, my parents helped us as we discussed what we were learning. At the end of the day, if there was time, we would read to each other by the light of the fire.

Weekends, turned out to be amazing. For as hard as we worked during the week, that was as hard as we played over the weekend. We climbed trees, built forts, or simply strapped on a machete and hiked for miles, exploring the mountainside. At night, when the river roared and the crickets sang, we would roast marshmallows and sing songs around the campfire. There was a stillness there that I sometimes wish I could find again.

It was a hard life, but it was good. It wasn’t until I was nearing my teen years that I started to feel disconnected from the rest of the world. I had all but forgotten the violence of the city and I missed people. I didn’t have any friends, save my family, and I longed to know what other kids did on the weekends, and what they got to do after school. So, we eventually moved off that mountain. We settled into small town life and my family took to it like a duck to water. I made friends, stirred up trouble, and had all the experiences every teenager should have and I never looked back… until now.

Post-mountain living: When I grew up, I moved back to the city. I am surrounded by people and noise all the time and I love it. I have every modern convenience and I love it! People may scoff at my choice to have food delivered instead of cooking at home but, why not?

As much as I hated it at times, I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything. I’m thankful for the lessons I learned. Lessons, I think, that are getting lost in these modern times. And as much as that sounds like a social commentary on the state of the world, I mostly just mean it in a- I wish people could know the peace of that kind of living- kind of way.

But for now…

I take advantage of modern conveniences whenever I can, because I know what it’s like to live without them. I could drop everything and start boiling my water and growing my food and I’d be totaly fine, but I’ve done that. I’d rather play video games and chat with my fiends on Twitter while I wait for my food to be delivered.