I camp on the side of this rather steep hill. One of the advantages of that is, that it’s on such a steep incline that it’s difficult to hike on, and there’s virtually no level land that you can comfortably hang out at. So almost nobody ever goes up there. Therefore I have acres and acres of beautiful land that is virtually all my own. I don’t technically own it. But it’s basically my personal property in a way. (PS. Don’t pity me for being “homeless”)
One of the downsides is, you can occasionally lose your footing and go rolling down the hill. I probably told you about the deer who lost its footing, went somersaulting down the hill end-over-end, broke its neck, and was dead before it even came to a stop at the bottom of the hill.
For my sleeping space I take out a shovel and carve out a level area big enough to accommodate my sleeping bag. So I’m snug as a bug in a rug. Living there by myself with my goddamn feral cats on the side of a goddamn hill.
The only problem is. Due to erosion and the laws of gravity and the sands of time. Eventually my leveled sleeping area will eventually return back to its natural hilly state. And I’ll gradually notice that when I roll over in my sleep I start rolling down the hill. Or the cans of cat food that I had placed by my side had ended up at the bottom of the hill.
So eventually I’ll rouse myself from my stupor, grab a shovel, and level the land one more time.
It kind of reminds me of the Neil Young line “rust never sleeps.” It’s relentless, isn’t it? We might temporarily get our lives in order. But the forces of gravity are always pushing us back down the hill.