Where there is spice in life, there is usually a forest to harvest the spice. Where there is forest, there are usually tire tracks. I’m not opposed to this and consider the human race as good as any other species, but by golly god, what do I have to do to find a little privacy.
In Vermont you can hike up the side of a mountain to a protected, eco-island; sit on the rocks, and with a good pair of binoculars, pick out a gas station down in the valley. My idea of a wilderness experience, in contrast, is being in a place so remote that if you yell all day the only things you’ll disrupt are the javalinas who smell like skunk but have decent manners.
This is why I’d like to take up meditation.
