Journals from the Jungle VII: The Best Feeling in the World

As soon as it's over, is it real anymore?

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The following are journal excerpts—a series of stories from my recent travels.

February 2024

How can it be so high, so intense, and gentle at the same time? And do things actually happen though? Really? Like, as soon as they’re over are they real anymore? The present, if it’s all that is, then what are these experiences I’ve had—these things I’ve done—if not dreams or memories?

In the airport, it’s the first time in my life that I see the sign for New York and rather than pride and excitement, my heart sinks. Like that last night on the beach when someone said, “You like New York?” and I … hesitated. I will never forget that brief, pregnant pause. My life in less than a second, changing. That’s the crack, that’s the thread, and I know by now how these things go (in the direction of growth). This is not something I’m in control of, not aware of until it happens, and it’s happening.

I am so different already as a result of just these two weeks. I can hear my voice, the lowness and slowness of it—the fluidity, the current between my mind and mouth like a channel, a stream, clear and smooth and open. I wonder who and how I would be after months there, or a year. Perhaps after finishing this book I will find out.

Places inside of me hurt and I’m so glad. I will miss these bruises—the physical sensations reminding me of the moments; reminding me that it really happened.

I do do this. I do this to myself. I make my life this way, by inviting.

I think: I’m a writer and an explorer and a mind and a body. I should quit business in as many was as possible and just be / do / live this.