Wood Splitting Meditation

This Old Road

Driving away from work this evening, drop the truck into 4 wheel drive, illuminate the high beams and rumble down the forest service road towards home. Deer lift their heads, their swan-like necks craning around to see me and my truck crunching down the dusty, washed-out pathway through the woods. I had the stereo on and playing Kris Kristofferson’s This Old Road. A friend from AA gave me this album about 5 years ago. Damn, I’ve been sober that long? A year longer actually. Wild. Crazy. Life just keeps churning and churning...Anyway, the album is amazing. It’s basically just Kris stripped down with an acoustic guitar and singing into the microphone. It’s very intimate, barren and soulful. He’s looking back on his life. He’s counting his blessings. He’s giving thanks. It’s some beautiful music.

So this is going into my head as I’m driving the truck and looking at the star-struck mountainsides and cold autumn West Virginia night. This old road. All these millions of miles I’ve travelled, places I’ve seen, people I’ve met, food I’ve cooked, women I’ve loved, sights I’ve seen…and now I’m finally back home, back where my life began, back to the place where I was once a boy. My father is gone and I’m now a man in the world. I pause at the park gate, open the door to the truck and leave it open while I unlock and open the gate. The music plays loudly out into the naked forest night. I remember when I was 23 years old and opening this same gate on a night just like this. I was riding a motorcycle back then. I was living at the farm and about to make some major changes in my life. Within 18 months from then I would be married, living in Vermont and enrolled in culinary school. But that night I was just there at the gate. That night I was just motorcycling home. That night I would have gotten home and drank a six pack of beer and smoked some weed. That night I would have dreamed about the future and what my life would be like then.

Tonight I stand at the gate and I look back. I look back at my path and experiences and all the twists and turns and occurrences that helped shape the man I am today. It’s been a hell of a weekend at the restaurant. I carried that place on my back this weekend. I held it together with my time-honed talent and experience. When others panicked I remained calm. When others stressed out and started to lose their minds I came up with solutions and solved problems. At the end of the each night I felt the crush of service on my body and bones and on my muscles. Line cooking is athletic. It’s mental and physical. It’s takes extreme concentration, mental acuity, co-ordination and lightning fast reflexes. It is a dance. And I’ve danced and danced and danced. My fucking dance card stays full! Hahahaha! And I think of where I learned this work ethic. My dad. My dad had an amazing work ethic, unbelievable. It used to piss me off when I was little because my dad was always working. I knew he needed to in order to provide for us but still I kind of resented the fact that he was always away working. When I was a teenager and a young adult my dad was really worried that I hadn’t learned a work ethic. I just wasn’t interested in working. Nothing really MOVED me to want to work. I didn’t have a passion. That was true up until the point fifteen years ago when I lived here at the farm and worked at the restaurant (Mountain Creek) where now I am the chef. I became passionate about cooking and food while working at this restaurant. So it’s very special for me to come back here and to run this restaurant and serve up my food there in the dining room. And as I drive home, as I cover the miles and round the turns and navigate the curves down highway 19 back home to the farm I listen to Kris Kristofferson and This Old Road and I think of my dad. And I get home to this cabin and I’m just beginning to make it a home. I’m putting in new windows and floors and walls. I’m doing things I’ve always wanted to do. It’s not been a piece of cake but every moment of this new path has been rewarding. I’m coming into my own and I’m looking forward to the future. I’m looking forward to what’s around the next bend on this old road.

Git'R'Done

I woke up this morning not feeling 100% but definitely feeling better than I have in days, maybe weeks. The sickness has definitely moved into my chest and I'm coughing up some really lovely little globules of God-knows-what. It's starting to feel like another warm and mild day here in southern West Virginia which is awesome because before long the cold will really set in for the season. There are no clouds in the sky this morning and the atmosphere is just the most amazing shade of blue, so deep and vibrant and electric. I've been piddling about this morning, doing my morning internet routine, walking around outside, straightening up a bit, took my meds, etc. I called my sous chef to reassure him that I would be at work this afternoon. He's been holding down the fort for me this week.

And I feel a sense of cleanliness, a sense of renewal, a sense of beginning again. Damn if I know what that whole sexual/emotional escapade thing with C was about but sometimes maybe it's not for us to know. Alls I know is now that it's really over I'm fucking glad it's over. I definitely have other fish to fry so-to-speak. I'll be working in the restaurant through the weekend and into next week but will probably manage a couple of days off mid-week and I really hope the weather is nice and I feel well because I want to git'R'done! That's it, my friends. That's my mantra. Git'R'done! pizeace, MOM

A Piece

Today I drove into town and visited a doctor about my cold/flu. he was referred to me by a fellow I work with. Turns out he knows my uncle and my aunt. Small towns! Kinda wild. I've spent the day in a sort of dream state. I've been awake and going about my business but I've also not been entirely....here. It was a spectacularly gorgeous day today, sunny and mild, soft breezes blowing, the temperature rose to the upper 60's and stayed there until nightfall. As I was driving home from the doctor's office and pharmacy my thoughts turned again to my childhood here in West Virginia. I drove the "old road" back to the farm, down highway 19. The road loops and dips and whirls around mountains and along streams and rivers. Yawning meadows stretched out on the roadsides, pastures dotted with grazing cattle, horses, neatly wound rolls of hay. The sun slanted in from the west and painted everything in an ethereal light, rays playful on falling leaves and sweetly swaying branches. I passed the post office where earlier I had retrieved my mail. I passed long-abandoned houses and businesses that I recall seeing when I was just a boy in the backseat of my father's sedan. It really has only been 28 years since that time. In some ways it seems like centuries, in others it seems like only moments ago. Where does the time go? The light this time of year is golden and precious. I remember being a boy and playing in my childhood neighborhood in Beckley on these Autumn afternoons and evenings. I was enrolled in elementary school and had already started the institutional process but I was still untouched then, unfettered by mature concerns. I'd have spent the afternoon riding my bicycle around, playing G.I. Joes or a pick-up game of football with other neighborhood kids. I'd be wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, a t-shirt and a hoody. The light would begin to cup the streets and crease the lawns and avenues with shadows. In a while I'd hear my mother's voice calling for me, my name echoing off the hills and houses "Maaaathhh-EWWWWWW!!!! Time for DIIINNNNNNN-ERRRRR!!" to which I'd belt out a reply "Okayyyyyyyyyy!! I'm COMMMING!"

They weren't the best of times or the worst of times. But they were childhood times and there is something haunting, holy and sacred about these memories.

I'm beginning to get better, to get over this sickness. The yuckiness has moved from my head and into my chest. I'm on antibiotics now. My thoughts are turning towards the work I have ahead of me, the work at the resort with the closing of Mountain Creek for the season and me and my crew moving up to the Bluestone Dining Room for the remainder of autumn and for the coming winter and spring. And I'm thinking of the work that lays ahead for me with this cabin and my life here on this farm. This new adventure I've undertaken, this old dream that has never died, never been silenced, never gone away. My thoughts drift less and less on the summer's romance that didn't work out. It still pops up in my consciousness now and then but my mind hasn't been dwelling on it much these past several days. I guess I'm finding comfort in the thinking that if I was just a piece of ass to her then I guess she was just a piece of ass to me too. Nothing more. I want more than that but it is what it is. If she wants to treat herself like just a piece of pussy then I guess that's what she was: a piece of pussy. Hit it and quit it, I guess. But I'm getting too old for that shit, man! Hahahaha!

Tonight the cabin walls embrace me with their tattered memories and quiet, pastoral dignity. Tomorrow I'll return to work cooking for people, feeding people. And the future? Well, the future will take care of itself. night night, The Myth of Matt

Sick

I've been feeling a sickness coming on since this weekend and it's here now. I haven't been sick in several years. Actually the last time I can recall being so sick I had to miss work it was 2007. My head feels like it's going to explode from the pressure, my throat is bitter with mucous and nastiness and my nose is runny and raw. I like to think that I've gotten sick because of her, because my body is excising her out of my system. Although painful it is a pretty amazing thing to remove someone poisonous from your life. It really fucks with your head but it is such a good thing. There are all the inevitable questions of course. Namely: Why? Why did I let myself get grifted again? And the answer to that is actually pretty easy. Because I really want love. And I guess I was willing to try to turn lust into love once again. Live and learn.

I texted one of my cooks this morning and asked him to work today to cover my shift. Although I am the chef I still work a line position every single day I work. Then I went back to sleep. Many times throughout the day I would awaken to one of my phones ringing. I just let it ring. I lay in my bed paralyzed with pain and sickness. It was my boss calling to check on me. Plus she wanted me to put together some menus for a couple of groups we have coming in over the next few months. I finally awoke around 5pm. I woke up in one of those states where you aren't sure what day it is, what time it is, whether the sun is coming up or going down. You're not even sure where the fuck you are. That's how I woke up this afternoon. My neighbor Curt was knocking on my door, checking on me. Said he saw my truck here and wanted to make sure I was okay because he knew I should have been at work. We hung out for a few minutes and then he left. I phoned my boss and checked in with her. The F&B director's step dad is a doctor locally so I'm going to go by his office tomorrow morning to get on anti-biotics and to see about a few other  things. Then I'm going to go to the DMV and get all my car, license, registration, plate bullshit taken care of. Then to the insurance office to sign papers on insurance for the farm and my vehicle. Might as well get all this bs done while I feel like ass anyway, that way I'm not burning up a good feeling day doing a bunch of crap. Ha!

Earlier I went to Wally World and bought Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, Saltines, Vitamin Water and Aloe Puffs. Gonna hole up tonight. Hunker down and get better. All the slime and aches and pains I'm going to relish because I know my body is expelling sickness. And pining for a dumb bitch that was only using me was sure as hell sick so I welcome the pain of getting better. Bring it on, bitch. Soon, I'll be back better than ever motherfucker! Peace, The Myth of Matt

Done

I'm done with you. I'm done with me. I'm just done. I've been riding a roller coaster of emotion for the past several weeks and it's starting to wear me down. I've been restless, depressed, paralyzed, lacking in energy and focus. I've been trying to pull myself out, trying to not let myself get dragged down. Fucking women, man. I fucking swear to God. They can either make me feel like the king of the world or the dirt on the bottom of their shoe. And I allow this to happen. It's my fault. I don't have the right boundaries or defenses up or something.

Every time I break up with a hot girl I always think that's it. That's the last one. She was the one and it's over. I go through the cycles and come a year or two later another one comes along and I get sucked into that and then the breakup and the thinking that's it again. She was the one and now it's over. It's done. Over and over and over again. I just need to fucking stop with it all, man. I'm sick to fucking death of it all. I'm sick of being single and I'm sick of being with fucked up bitches that just fuck with my head and split. I don't know why it has to be so fucking hard. I really don't. Am I making it that hard? What am I doing wrong here? Time and time again I've resigned myself to a life alone. Told myself "Fuck it! No more!" Dude, I really fucking want to give up. That's how I've been feeling these past few weeks...the depression nipping at my ass and the voices in my head egging me on. What I really need to do is to get my ass into a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. That's really what I need to do.

Cause you see although I've been off of drugs and alcohol for almost six years now I am still a sick puppy. I'll be sick until the day I die. All I have is a daily reprieve from drinking and using drugs. And this reprieve is contingent on my spiritual connection with God. And alcoholism wants to take me down. It LIVES to take me down. It is patient and it waits. It seizes upon every opportunity when I am weak and frustrated and full of fear and doubt and it whispers in my ear all these things, all these hopeless, insane, depressing things. And when I am weak I listen to it. One might think that because I've been sober for several years now that I am okay that I am safer now than I was when I first started in recovery. But the awful truth is that I am more in danger, I am more ripe for the picking. This is because the disease progresses inside me whether or not I am drinking and/or using drugs. The disease has very little to do with alcohol and drugs at all. It has to do with my mind, with my spirit, with my mental state. Alcohol and drugs were just symptoms of my disease. The disease itself is FEAR. The disease itself is self-centeredness. I've gotten off track. Left my safety nets. Spiraling out in the darkness alone. Only God keeps me alive. Only God keeps me away from alcohol and drugs. The terrifying aspect of all this is the fact that I have taken using alcohol and drugs off the table of options and then I had to take suicide off the table of options. I will not pick up a drink or a drug. I will not kill myself. I will fight through the pain. I will soldier on. I will feel the pain. I will recognize the emotions, the fear, the regrets, the mistakes. I have to. My blog is a raw pouring out of all the bullshit in my head, all the disease and garbage. I have to get rid of it. I have to empty it out somehow. Just writing it down on my own doesn't work for me for some reason. I have to publish it and let other people read it. It's not something I necessarily enjoy doing. I'd rather hide what a crazy fucked up bastard I am. I'd rather people think I am with it and have all my shit together but that's simply not true. Since my father died I have been grinding through the days trying to put on a happy face despite the fact that I have been feeling hollow and empty inside. This woman came into my life at a time when I jumped head first into a new adventure of living up here at the farm and starting a new life. She was a ray of sunshine. I loved seeing her, holding her, feeling her next to me. And now she is completely gone and disappeared and the nightmare of my loneliness surrounds me. And I try to call my mother every week but it's getting more and more difficult. Every single time I call she sobs and sobs and sobs. It kills me. I want to comfort her but I have no idea of what to say. I try to find the words. I try to help but I am frozen. This new job is another thing. I don't know if I have the energy or passion to follow through with it. I feel so alone and just hanging out there on a fragile limb swaying in the breeze. That is just how I feel. That doesn't mean anything I guess. But it's painful, it's confusing, it's fucking hard, man.

I've been through a bunch of shit but so have other people and they make it. They survive. They move on and grow and evolve. So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna move on. I'm gonna grow. I'm gonna evolve. I'm willing to go to any length to make it happen. I have to be. Or else I really am done.

Hopefully the Last Rant on C

So for the past several weeks I've been pining after this woman I had been dating over the summer. We shared many great moments together, seemed to get really close, talked about the future, she was a real sweetheart to me. Then she starts seeing someone else and telling me she's not ready for a serious relationship since she just got out of one that was really bad and dysfunctional. I broke it off because I don't sleep around anymore. I'm a one woman man. But I missed her. I missed her companionship and what seemed like budding love between us. Well, I texted her tonight and just flatly asked, "Do you still have feelings for me at all or is this thing totally done?" To which she replied, "I am in love with Freddie. I have no interest in having a romantic relationship with you." So she wasn't ready for a serious relationship but now she's in love with this other dude. Crazy bitch, man. I should have known better than to try to date a stripper. I really should have! But she turned on the charm to get what she wanted and when she was done with me and my cock she couldn't get rid of me fast enough!

I'm hurt of course but also relieved. I can now move on. I can now write her off as a nutjob, selfish bitch that has no qualms fucking with dude's heads. Good luck with all that, chick.

P.S. I'm too good for you.

love, The Myth of Matt

Prepping for Winter

The autumn winds are blowing and winter is on its way in. I've been burning fires in the fireplace and wrapping my head around the fact that I am really living here now and that this isn't just a summer lark. This is my life. Also wrapping my head around the fact that C isn't in my life anymore and learning to be cool with that. Learning to turn the page. Learning to move forward. Learning to let go of a brief dream that seemed so promising.

It's funny how excited I am about installing these new windows I bought yesterday. The current windows are old ones from my grandparents' house that got new life and use here in the cabin. They weren't installed with insulation or winter living in mind. There are visible cracks between the sections where wind blows clean through.  When I lived here previously, 15 years ago, I tried to weatherstrip around them. I also stretched plastic sheeting over the outside of them to break the air blowing in. This probably helped somewhat but in the long run didn't really do a lot to stop the draft of cold winter air. The windows I bought yesterday are energy effecient, double-hung modern insulated windows. I only bought 2 and I'm going to need 6 more. They cost $170 each so I'm buying them a few at a time to cushion the layout of cash somewhat. I'm also excited about the reconditioning of the wood-burning stove I bought off my neighbor. It's an old cast-iron piece that's been sitting outside on his farm for several years. It looked rusty and beat up as hell until I bought some black stove polish last night and started working it into the metal as Curt and I sat inside the cabin drinking coffee and talking. He's a damn good friend. People like to joke about him and make fun of him for being such a hillbilly but I can honestly say he's one of the coolest people and best friends I've ever had. In many ways he's like the older brother I never had. We come from different backgrounds in many ways but we share so many common interests and personality traits that we get along great. He really is a an american archetype. I realized this the day I met him and as the years have gone by I've recognized this simple truth more and more. He's full of contradictions, failings, human qualities good and bad. I really can't imagine living here without having him on the far m next door. The place just wouldn't be the same.

Anyway, I was amazed at how much the stove polish improved the look of the stove. I got just one thin coat on it last night and it already looks so much better. In the days to come I'm going to apply a gooey stove putty to the cracks and welds on the unit and then go back over the entire piece with another thicker layer of the black polish. Last night I also purchased the stove pipe I'll need to get the thing venting properly. With a combination of the wood-burning stove, fireplace, electric wall heaters, modern windows and insulation beneath the floor as well as caulking various cracks around the cabin structure itself I think I will have this place pretty comfy this winter. I've cut and split firewood myself on my days off and Curt has been bringing me truckloads of wood too. When the needle starts dropping and the flakes start falling I want to be ready for it. I feel like I'm making progress with it and that feels good.