It's been five years, maybe? Not sure. But, maybe that doesn't matter. What is time when everything is uncertain? It used to be that I had a plan for the future, a design on which skills I could gain, which path I could take, in order to bring myself closer to an ideal circumstance, but the only things that seem certain are difficulty and challenge. I am not looking forward to living life alone on my own terms. Right now, I do not have the financial means to support myself, and it doesn't look like I will for a long time. No retirements for me, no inheritances, no windfalls—just continued poverty as old age creeps around the edges of my life. I worry about homelessness, but I know I also make moral choices to support the people already in my life, and maybe that means they get more money and attention than I do.

I've been a little charmed (perhaps beguiled is the right word) by the overly sunny video blogs about the vanlifers, the people decades younger than me having grand outdoor adventures in vans that cost as much as a house did when my parents bought one. Like some people who imagine what they would do with lotto winnings, I sometimes imagine what it would be like to live long term in a van. Somehow, that seems more obtainable than owning a home, retiring with a significant savings, and providing a meager support for my family and friends. I have no illusions. I know this is all social media where the ugly parts are hidden, the hidden supports are concealed, and the 'facts' are only true in terms of entertainment. Still, it feels emotionally relaxing to consider this as a possibility, even if I acknowledge that, intellectually, it is a fantasy. 

Note for the net: I am still exercising my esperanto language skills with web apps. Youtube doesn't have as much videos as the used to, which is a shame. I have also started to learn clawhammer banjo. I am getting better with my rhythm hand, but I tend to play the same five or six chords in the same tuning. Should I put more effort into it? I hope I become a superlative banjo playing with the grace of God. With the same fervor, I hope that I can increase in personal virtue, wisdom, and knowledge to accept the unseen challenges of the future with the aplomb and dignity I wish. 

In a strange way, I am thinking a lot about the Harold and Maude movie from the early 70s. In a weird way, maybe I want to be a male maude, a vibrant, almost emotionally exuberant person celebrating every inch of life with the wisdom of a lived experience. I'm not a libertine like her character was, and I will not cause conflict and contention if I can help it, but I am thinking about conscious spirituality in the face of a world intent on descending into horrors and cruelty that people can't envision at the moment. 

How did Cassandra, from ancient Greece, and who was cursed to know the troubles of the future but also not to have anyone believe her or listen to her admonitions, not go insane with worry, frustration, and anger at the willful blindness that absolutely surrounded her. The answer seems to be a radical detachment from the outside world, and a powerful connection to the inside font of spirituality that directs her steps.