The simpler life
Something else that's dawned on me lately. I was much happier when I had much less: less money, less material things in general. There was a time when I and everything I owned occupied one single room.
The place where I was the happiest in my whole life was the first place I lived after moving out of my parents' house. In 1983, at the age of 28, I moved 700 miles away from my L.A.-area birthplace, and rented a room in this recently-restored 115-year-old farm house in Arcata, California. My room was on the bottom floor at left, and my rent was $100 a month. That's my Toyota truck there in front - the only vehicle I ever bought new.
click image to enlarge
Otters are my worship, and my little room was their shrine. Walking in the door and turning to one's left, this is what it looked like:
click image to enlarge
My LPs and bottle collection - the latter being a new hobby I acquired here. It was something interesting that I could collect without spending much money, which was good, because I had no money. My job paid $2.35 an hour; minimum wage at the time, but I worked with some amazingly wonderful people who I truly loved, and that by itself made it the job I remember most fondly.
click image to enlarge
Something I'm sure you've already noticed by its absence: no plush animals - not a single one. It would be another 6 years until I bought my first stuffed bunny.
Here's my desk. No computer. No clutter. My typewriter is just barely visible on the floor to the left of the speaker; that patch of turquoise blue under the white album cover (its dust cover). Within easy reach of my desk are my Sony receiver and Dual turntable. In the enlargement, I can see that the stereo is turned on, and the album that's playing is Def Leppard's "Pyromania." There's my old black & white TV that my grandmother gave me in 1962 (I didn't get a color television until mid-1985, after I bought my first Mac).
click image to enlarge
My books (almost all of which were about otters). Now I have an entire bedroom full of books, but my whole library fit onto just two shelves in one bookcase back then.
click image to enlarge
And in this final picture, you'll see the only "furry" thing I owned - the otter mask hanging over the entry to my closet. I made that so I could participate in the "All Species Parade" at Arcata's North Country Fair the previous September. I still have that mask. I wore it at my first furry con in January 1995.
click image to enlarge
I was such a pure human being then. Pure in mind, pure in spirit, and mostly pure in body. I drank less back then than in any period of my adult life; didn't smoke pot at all because I couldn't afford it. I still smoked cigarettes, though. The thought disgusts me now, but I did manage to quit in 1986, after smoking killed my father.
My "personal hypocrisy index" was also the lowest of my life back then. I lived exactly what I believed in, every minute of every day. I was on what Carlos Castaneda called "a path with heart." I lived in the spiritual and physical presence of my zootheistic Deity. It was literally my Heaven on Earth.
But today, I've veered away from my old path. The material has entirely replaced the spiritual in my life, and corrupted me. I feel lost now. I yearn to return, but I can't find my way home anymore...
The place where I was the happiest in my whole life was the first place I lived after moving out of my parents' house. In 1983, at the age of 28, I moved 700 miles away from my L.A.-area birthplace, and rented a room in this recently-restored 115-year-old farm house in Arcata, California. My room was on the bottom floor at left, and my rent was $100 a month. That's my Toyota truck there in front - the only vehicle I ever bought new.
click image to enlarge
Otters are my worship, and my little room was their shrine. Walking in the door and turning to one's left, this is what it looked like:
click image to enlarge
My LPs and bottle collection - the latter being a new hobby I acquired here. It was something interesting that I could collect without spending much money, which was good, because I had no money. My job paid $2.35 an hour; minimum wage at the time, but I worked with some amazingly wonderful people who I truly loved, and that by itself made it the job I remember most fondly.
click image to enlarge
Something I'm sure you've already noticed by its absence: no plush animals - not a single one. It would be another 6 years until I bought my first stuffed bunny.
Here's my desk. No computer. No clutter. My typewriter is just barely visible on the floor to the left of the speaker; that patch of turquoise blue under the white album cover (its dust cover). Within easy reach of my desk are my Sony receiver and Dual turntable. In the enlargement, I can see that the stereo is turned on, and the album that's playing is Def Leppard's "Pyromania." There's my old black & white TV that my grandmother gave me in 1962 (I didn't get a color television until mid-1985, after I bought my first Mac).
click image to enlarge
My books (almost all of which were about otters). Now I have an entire bedroom full of books, but my whole library fit onto just two shelves in one bookcase back then.
click image to enlarge
And in this final picture, you'll see the only "furry" thing I owned - the otter mask hanging over the entry to my closet. I made that so I could participate in the "All Species Parade" at Arcata's North Country Fair the previous September. I still have that mask. I wore it at my first furry con in January 1995.
click image to enlarge
I was such a pure human being then. Pure in mind, pure in spirit, and mostly pure in body. I drank less back then than in any period of my adult life; didn't smoke pot at all because I couldn't afford it. I still smoked cigarettes, though. The thought disgusts me now, but I did manage to quit in 1986, after smoking killed my father.
My "personal hypocrisy index" was also the lowest of my life back then. I lived exactly what I believed in, every minute of every day. I was on what Carlos Castaneda called "a path with heart." I lived in the spiritual and physical presence of my zootheistic Deity. It was literally my Heaven on Earth.
But today, I've veered away from my old path. The material has entirely replaced the spiritual in my life, and corrupted me. I feel lost now. I yearn to return, but I can't find my way home anymore...