Hurriers Wall

What’s the hurry? If we always hurried to the next moment our lives, would we ever actually stand to experience the moment we are in? Or would every passing second slip through our fingers, losing it’s meaning because of our rush to prepare for this unreachable future, ever eluding us, ever being chased over fences to greener pastures, ever dangling just out of grasp. To fully live the present in service to the future is to live both pieces half-heartedly. Continue reading Hurriers Wall

3,004.8 Miles

20190528_082836.jpgI have traveled 3,004.8 miles on this little adventure of mine, up to this point, sitting just outside of Bend, Oregon. Or at least, that is how far my car has driven—I could probably tack on a few extra miles to the overall count if I added in the nature hikes and city walks I have been on. It doesn’t feel like 3,004.8 miles—for some reason, it feels like a lot less, which could be due to the length of time I have spread the mileage out over (roughly 3 weeks).

I have traveled 3,004.8 miles, and what do I have to show for it? Continue reading 3,004.8 Miles

Free-duh-m

Being on the road is such a strange experience–and not because of the obvious reasons, like having to figure out where to sleep, where to piss, where to get a snack, or where to get some free WiFi. Although, these things are all aspects that take more consideration when living on the road. I’m referring more to the mental game of transitioning from living in a house with four walls, to living in a car with six windows. From a place where I had any luxury I needed–heat, internet, memory foam bedding, a couch and T.V., people walking around, filling those spaces–to this point, of balancing the car battery and fuel bill for heat and power, paying close attention to data usage for mobile hot spots, eating out of the Rubbermaid pantry that sits in my back seat, and pit-stopping every day or two for a new bag of ice to keep my passenger-side fridge operational. Continue reading Free-duh-m

Unknown

Short Story Written By Christian J. Ashliman

The dense, thick smell of Christmas pines wafted like a swirling blanket over the crowds, filling the air with a cheerful spring of holiday season. Bells could be heard ringing, jingling in delight as the little ones ran up and down the overly populated sidewalks, with a light pitter patter scattered against the heavy thumping of moving foot traffic. In the distance, caroling was picking up, growing in number and volume as the gleeful singers gained more traction. Dusk must have been on the western horizon, felt by the warmth of sunlight cracking through the cold clouds, bathing his face in a tingling radiance. Continue reading Unknown