-July 15th-

I set a goal for myself to walk across this continent. On numerous occasions something has come along that might have rendered this goal impossible. To those moments my spirit has said; not yet. Goals sometimes rest precariously along our path, and seem only to have merit if they carry a risk of failure. I don’t care much for my failings. In fact, fear of failing has stopped cold many a footstep of mine. Here I am regulated to the action of putting one foot in front of the other. That’s the business of doing, and as mere mortal it is grounded. (I sure wish I could fly) Something within pushes this discourse between foot and road. On a good day 8,9, maybe 10 hours can disappear into the simple rhythm of my pace. Time melts away. As many know I tweaked my goal demanding that my action carry me to New York City by September 21st. I may fail. I have walked for 3 weeks in this attempt and milage indicates that while walking more than the daily distance required to meet my goal … I am falling behind. How does that happen? Roads don’t carry us right where we need to go. They move us continually a little out of our way for a need previously unseen. Here again footsteps are a metaphor for the challenges impacting the lives we live. Things carry us away from our goals … Or, as Forest didn’t say … “Shit happens”.

The final word is Grace. Grace is everything. It is all the reason one needs to forget fear and live fully. Whether I succeed or not, Grace has been a critical part of every step. So, if I fail remember this; There have been so many gifts and revelations freely given along this journey that what ever may come … I will graciously accept. Way too much awaits the rest of this journey.

The sole of my last victim

-July 13th-

Walking in Nebraska heat and Humidity puts a heavy tax on my footsteps. A hot sun, high humidity, and no air movement leaves me thoroughly drained at days end. I am usually soaked in sweat by 10 am The southwest deserts and the dry high country of New Mexico and Colorado are but a memory. In Nebraska sweat refuses to give me up. I didn’t realize my body could sweat like it is … what a machine! My drenched body will make chafing, blisters, and heat rash new concerns for my attention.I cant have anything take me off the road. I am on a tight schedule if I have any chance of making it to the Peoples climate march in New York on September 21st.

The distance between this lone marcher and his Climate march compadres continues to grow. I guesstimate we are now 150 miles apart.

The church on Church Rd

Teepee at Platte River State Park

Cheap radio fix for boredom

Meeting another cross-country cart pusher

Visitors from home

Shuffling along behind my rolling wheels I sighted on the horizon another monolith in the Nebraska corn fields. For miles it kept impressively expanding in volume … another big box involved with the immense corn monoculture surrounding me. When I reached a distance where signs were visible I saw it was a Proctor & Gamble facility. The enormous structure produced major brands of pet food. In these fields of corn exist enormous production facilities with names like Monsanto, and Pioneer, huge ethanol plants with their big shiny tanks and grain elevators reaching skyward like temples on the prairie. I was contemplating … where do we fit in? We Humans from the shrinking world of small towns and life on a much smaller “human” scale. There are no big parking lots with employees around these places. I’m daydreaming that someone could be sitting in a chair far from here pushing the necessary buttons to manufacture the next forty tons of a dogs favorite chow.

At that moment I looked behind me to see a well used blue Prius casually roll up to a mail box on the other side of the road. It was a rural mail carrier working his route. This gray haired carrier pulled forward a few yards to the next mail box. ” Hey you walking for a cause or just walking.” “Climate action” I said, adding; “Nice having a Prius for your route?” More small talk ensued as my buggy rolled forward on one side of the highway and his Prius moved ahead to the next mail box. Then an unexpected offer: “Hey, where you staying?” “Aurora” I said. “A motel tonight.”

“You can stay at my house if you like. There’s plenty of room.” “Okay.” I said. Question to the reader … Would you think about offering a roof and a bed to a stranger? Second Question to the reader; Would you accept one from a stranger? We have comfort zones we carry wherever we go … including these empty corn fields of Nebraska. It’s a gift to sense the right time to exercise that bit of faith you carry and rarely use. I couldn’t know what a great experience I had in store.

John was sharing his faith, his families home, and his time with a stranger. I find that act quite encouraging in these times of fear and self concerns. I hope I can find a time and place to share that kind of faith. It proved a valued exchange. Home, beautiful gardens, bookshelves filled with comparative studies in religion, poetry, and the arts … and on the coffee table a copy of Wendell Berry’s work. Where am I? Oh yes… Aurora, Nebraska. It seemed like such a long time since I had felt at home. For a few hours in Aurora I was at home.

As I said, why I was here had something to do with faith. John Is a member of the Bahai community and his beliefs lean heavily on acts of good will to others… just as we Christians. I saw in the hours spent with John that his life in small town Nebraska was the antithesis of the monolith I had studied that afternoon in the fields of corn. Here was someone very “human” who loved his vegetable garden, could let the house projects slide and live a minimalist life with such grace as to make one like me doubt his current walk to its very core.

On climate change John had this thought. “Even if excessive carbon in our atmosphere wasn’t the issue it is to our planets future, I would still want us to change our reckless use of fossil fuels because they are finite. It isn’t acceptable stewardship to deplete a resource for ones immediate appetite.

Thanks John. Hope we pass again someday

Jon’s Neighbor

John