Day 685: I Bought A Planet.

Just some quick housekeeping before I rev this B up again.

I’ve been back in Canada now for 8 boring months.

It feels a lot longer, but calendars are a thing here.

I will reiterate my intention to not dwell on Corona Virus, the pandemic or the situation that it is.

It doesn’t apply to me.

If you’re horny for doom news, you can go to reddit or read Cormac McCarthy, respectively.

My opinion(s) about the Corona are sill exactly as they were in Morocco.

See- Day 280: Don’t cry For Me Argentina, I have Corona Virus.

Right, housekeeping satisfied, let’s begin.

Guy’s, guess what!

I’m on a fucking island!

I share the island with hundreds of people, but they fear my winter Jortz style and mostly avoid me.

The island is called Saturna, I won’t sugar coat it, I live in a swanky trailer from the 90’s with no electricity.

Or water.

Yes, my parents are proud of me.

The reason for such a dramatic change of location is I have a lot of experience to unpack and I wanted a set and setting worthy of the task.

Initially, I wanted to rent a cabin on Haida Gwaii, formally known as the Queen Charlotte Islands, a very large and beautiful island just south of Alaska, for 6 months.

But the residents of Haida Gwaii decided to protest all ferry services to their island, rendering a nomad like me, illegal and disgusting.

Fuckers.

I don’t mean the people of Haida Gwaii are fuckers, I mean it more as: who closes the outdoors?

Gabon! That’s who!!

Let it go Bobby.

I wanted to live in a cabin, in a forest, ideally for at least six months.

I don’t know why this detail is so important to me, but it is.

Nostalgia probably made me do it.

The Raccoons.

Gravity Falls.

And the movie Misery, but before Paul Sheldon gets kidnapped and tortured.

I was looking at rental properties on the islands in British Columbia.

Hornby, Galiano, Gabreola, Saltspring, Pender and Mayne.

There are lots more, but those are the most popular.

I decided on an island called Saturna because it’s pretty remote.

I feel wild and free here. Saturna is a place where there’s more nature than people.

I see like, three eagles a day.

Last night a deer scared the shit out of me in a strange meeting on a dark pathway.

I sing songs to otters hoping they will come lick my hand.

And there is a place to go and watch migratory Orcas.

Lots to do here.

Being here the last month has given me a real sense of myself and most importantly I’ve been able to give my African and Indian experiences proper attention.

Attention is a soft word, I have nothing but memories and 100% focus here.

And an insatiable appetite for fettuccini?

Seriously, it’s true.

Never have I craved iron chef inspired dishes like I do now.

I made falafel in my trailer, without running water or electricity, falafel.

I have never made falafel before, or as I’m now calling it, the pinnacle of impossible clean ups.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about falafel.

Falafel.

My mind seems to fixate here, it commands my attention in ways where I can’t escape through distractions.

A thought is supremely powerful when there is nothing to distract from perusing its ends.

And here ladies and gentlemen is a long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away.

Saturna.

I’m looking forward to sharing any bizarre experiences and thoughts I’m having here with you, wherever you might be.

Unless of course, you’re in Haida Gwaii.

Jk.

Day 683: I’m Alive. Sincerely, Johnny Number 5.

Where was I?

Oh Yeah, I died and sudo Jesus was passively trying to exploit my expectations of control.

Yup, totally normal post.

Not at all indicative of a person needing expensive therapy.

Soon after I wrote post Day 418: The Paradox And The Colouring Book. Part 1, I decided to leave India.

Why?

If I stayed longer I would have had more and more trouble with the police.

It was inevitable.

Not to mention I would have learned a wind instrument.

Then purchased thousands of needy house cats.

Thus becoming the Joe Exotic of India.

In retrospect the lockdown in India feels like a dream.

I still mentally explore aspects of what happened in India 8 months later, except I suspiciously think my memory of the lockdown was brought on by an argument with drunk people, eating a entire wheel of brie then falling asleep searching horror movies on Netflix.

But I didn’t imagine it. I endured the weirdness of it.

At the end I smoked a janky Indian joint.

Danced in the beautiful Ganga one last time.

Shaved my moustache and sweet sideburns then, while still very high, booked a flight back to Canada.

The total process from smoking a joint to seat selection was less than three hours.

What eight months of retrospect, humility and a single profound realization revealed to me was that my experience in India was really a macro representation of contrast, compared to my first visit to India.

It took some time before I realized that both experiences were really in contrast to one another.

That my most current experience in India was in balance with what India was for me, a sublimely freeing and open culture.

I realized that together, both versions represent what India is.

Contrasts.

The balance of all things.

I feel absolved by whatever negative emotions I had about India by acknowledging the larger relationship of my experience and the sacred balance of all things.

I’m grateful for having the time to reflect. This realization has brought me peace.

Make no mistake, I am very grateful for that particular chapter to have concluded.

*bobby exhales*

Now!

Here.

We.

Go!

New lands and new adventures!

Let’s adopt a million cats together!

And play flutes and dance naked around fires as coyotes seduce crescent moons!