It's 6:50 am and my mind is on, body tired.
I'm at my mothers where I grew up, painting exterior of the house.
I remember there used to be a small forest just past my backyard where there are now homes.
Actually where the homes are used to be a 3-4 acre field where horses used to be roam. There was a stable at one end. Beyond the "Horse Farm" (what I used to call it) there was the small forest, maybe 30-40 acres in total, where my brother and neighborhood friends used to explore.
We didn't follow any hiking paths, we walked straight through it to get to the other side, or followed small streams walking in the middle of them with our waterproofed footwear (2 plastic bags on each foot over your socks then your boot). We played in the swamp literally. We Mud Bogged one day and road are bikes in the swamp until were practically swimming wrestling in mud. When it was dry We built jumps, where the older kids tore paths with there dirt motor cycles. We raced sticks in a stream.
We did whatever we wanted in our little suburban sanctuary where Native Americans once roamed.
We skateboarded in the street, made forts in small wooded areas, played hide and go seek (which we called "Man Hunt") at night within a boundary of about 10 homes- about 10 acres. I learned to be un-noticeable in a shadow or in a bush 2 ft away from you.
What is the point of all this rant, I'm having memories of play, and I'm also just doing my morning exercise of thinking and writng to develop my thoughts, to practice my freedom of speech.
There is so little time to even complete a thought or chase curiosity when there is rent and bills to be paid and money to be made to pay for it all.
Thinking and writing are an essential exercise to developing thoughts, to getting free.
So here I am taking it one step at a time.
We're used to reading awesome moments.
Like Manny Aloha's Awesome Life in Hawaii.
I'm busy at the moment getting to where I want to be,
but somehow embracing the misery, and finding the beauty in it.
Surf, Skate, Create.