The vagabond blood

Ever since I could remember, I've always had this secretly nurtured fascination towards the life of a vagabond. I think it's the concept of being "free" as the true meaning of the word implies: a wanderer, no residence and no visible means of support. No contracts, no attachments and no debts. No debts? Well, where will the bill collector find you? And phone reception under the bridge is not so good either.

Chat has sort of pinpointed my restlessness problem. (if you consider it a problem) She says the reason I'm always restless is because of the "vagabond blood" in me. But she says that this hut of mine in the mountain is just another one of my "new high"---just a pit stop until the "next restlessness comes along." But I honestly feel this has quieted down my restless spirit, sort of filled the longing void in my inner being which I could not articulate, and sort of makes me feel "completed". For now.

When I am in the mountain, my day is full; food preparation takes forever because I try to go back to the basic (except running water) like building a fire or I'm planting/replanting, making seedling beds and or just busy staring at the trees while drinking coconut water. When I am there, my caretaker and his wife and kids tries to make life easier for me, they try to help every which way they can. When I got there the other day, one of the boys went to the ocean to gather "jelly fish" to make into ceviche. What? Jellyfish ceviche? I tried to protest; citing cruelty to animals and disturbing the ecological balance, but they said it is all they got to eat sometimes. And who am I to say it's wrong to eat the Holy bread when one is hungry. I gave in, but this is where I draw the line. "You can eat them, but I just can't."