Privilege

I always noticed him as I walked out of my parents house growing up. Tall, thin and moving slowly his speed never seemed to vary. He wore the same clothing every day….dark gray IMG_6439pants, a lighter gray work shirt with his name embroidered above the pocket, thick soled factory work boots and a straw fedora or “gentlemans” hat on his head. He never failed to smile when he saw me….we shared a bond…….

James Pete

He was the “yardman” for my parents when I was a child. There was one before James, his name was Hobart and while I heard stories of him, he was gone before I was old enough to remember him, but James was the man. He mowed grass, pulled weeds, planted flowers, raked, tilled the beds right alongside my mother. These were the days before weed eaters and gas blowers. The work was by hand and always happened in the heat, humidity and rain of the southern summers, yet he was always there…working through it all.

He was kind and gentle and taught me more about life, people and the way we can be than almost any other adult. Growing up as a black man (he never would have used the term “African American”) in the Heart of Dixie in those days had to be incredibly difficult. I have no idea how much schooling he had, but I doubt very much, although he could read and write. When he was a boy he worked on the watercress farms that dotted the landscape of north Alabama. From aluminum jon boats the boys reached into the murky water gathering the cress from the ponds. His lower arms were covered in scars that he said were from the water moccasins or cotton mouths that often bit him. I remember staring at him open mouthed when he told me this – the dreaded cotton mouth was the most feared snake in the south and we all thought they’d kill you. He said that he’d been biten so often that he had become immune to their venom….to this day I don’t know if it was true or not…..but I believed him. As he came of age he went to work at a local cotton gin where he had the most dangerous job of feeding the cotton into the gin itself. Somewhere around 30 his hand got caught in the gin and crushed…..It never did work right after that.

James lived in Tanner about 20 miles from my home. He farmed, raising vegetables and hogs (he never called them pigs). He was married and had several daughters all of whom I didn’t meet until much later in life. He drove an old Chevrolet Cheyenne pickup truck, his right hand draped across the steering wheel because he couldn’t really “grip” the wheel, often picking me up at school in the afternoons. I told him that I would drive a truck one day….he just laughed and laughed…saying “that’s what all boys say”……I loved to listen to his stories…the lilt of his voice…his glowing skin and smile that crept across his face. Working beside him in the yard, watching him lift his hat and wipe sweat from his brow….and planting taught me patience. Every Christmas we shared gifts. I always gave him something I made, my parents gave him money and he always…always brought fresh sausage to the house for our Christmas breakfast. The flavor of that lingers in my mouth to this day……..

I’m not sure what brought all of these memories to mind over the weekend…perhaps it was IMG_6363what happened in Charleston early in the summer….maybe Ferguson or Baltimore or the dozen other atrocities that have happened….both those we hear about and those that never make the “news”. I’ve been blessed far more than most and have lived a life that has been wonderful and incredible. I’ve faced challenges and fears and difficulties just like everyone else, but I also know that those I’ve faced pale in comparision to those faced by folks like James Pete. The difficulties he faced – for no other reason than skin color – were enormous – very likely beyond my comprehension – and yet – he moved with grace and love through life.

I wonder what he’d say if he saw what was happening in our society today? You see I grew up in a South that was very different than the one we see today. Kathryn Stocketts book The Help was more truth than fiction. As I watch and listen to my children and their friends – many of whom are African American, I am happy to see that times are changing…just not as fast as I’d like. To be honest I’d never really thought about the Confederate battle flag and how hurtful that could be to a portion of our country. I get it now. So many of leaders are right – Black Lives do matter….so do Hispanic, Asian, White, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist and every other life….they all matter. None more than the other – all very equal.  As we move forward as a society and country I hope that we will all come to that realization – ALL LIVES MATTER and everyone deserves to be treated with respect because we are all human beings.

James is gone now. Without a doubt to a much better place. The sun is blazing through the trees and as I stare across this mountain towards the town of Robbinsville, I realize that the IMG_6436lessons and gifts he gave me are too numerable to count. He taught me about strength….the kind that comes from inside. He taught me about joy from seeing the smallest flowers bloom. He taught me how important all life is and he taught me respect, for myself and others….a lesson that the thought of him this weekend reminded me of. He taught me that if I find a glimpse of understanding in someone’s smile, touch, laugh, or connection that I am lucky beyond belief…for to be known and understood, even for a moment, fills my soul in a way that most things can’t reach. While he taught me most of these lessons when I was a boy, they’ve really just taken root. I was privileged and honored to have known him, eaten with him, shared water with him….oh….yes….and James…..I thought you’d like to know…..I drive a truck……my hand often draped across the steering wheel….just like yours.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

Robert Rankin

Innkeeper, Adventurer & Explorer

Alone, I Surrender…..

August 18, 2015

I must admit that writing for me isn’t an “all the time” thing. I write when I’m inspired and this has been a tough summer for that. Inspiration hasn’t come easily….perhaps because I was too involved with all of the things happening around me. Lessons were thrown my way far too often for comfort this summer. Difficult ones to learn and constant, but I’m listening……and learning…..

I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet these few months.

 “if you wish to be a warrior prepare to get broken, if you wish to be an                                   explorer prepare to get lost and if you wish to be a lover prepare to be both”                                                                                                                               – Daniel Saint 

I’m alone here on the mountain and yet not. Sometimes it is overwhelming and sometimes not. Challenges that once were shared are now seen only by the face I see in the mirror. I don’t always like it, but this is time I need. To pause…..to reflect….to learn and to grow. Grow…yes, grow. As I watch others around me I am amazed at how we’ve become so judgemental….the “they should be this” or “they should do that” or even the “if I were them” seems to have become a cacophony resounding through our society. Our abilities to criticize overwhelms all of us and few are taking the the time to pause – to take a long hard look in our mirror at ourselves. It’s  those moments- the moments of “self” where we are able to really grow and learn….this is the side of the spectrum where I lean. Often inwardly focused on myself, my failures, shortcomings and lack of ability……not to blame, but to improve. My “self critique” is highly critical and often more tough than warranted. This inward focus can be very helpful, but often in those moments…….

we tend to forget how good we really are….

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“Who looks outside dreams;                                                               Who looks inside awakes.”                                                                                                   – Carl Jung

There’s a light breeze blowing across the mountain tonight. The prayer flags are flying, snapping back and forth in the wind, . Cicadas are calling each other, the sing song of their buzz is almost intoxicatingly loud….it is August after all…..Alone yes….Lonely…sometimes, but this is time for me. To heal. To become better and more focused. To see all of the gifts that surround me.

It’s in these moments where I discover. When I surrender. Surrender for me isn’t the allowing things to happen to me, but allowing things to happen for me. It is the constant unfolding of grace. It’s my active participation in the art of allowing. The silence of prayer, the motion of a meaningful smile or a new conversation that takes me to a place or person I never thought of visiting. It is the truth of where I am – outside of the expectations I create.

The simple idea that everything I once thought of as being bad that has happened has led me to a wonderful place. It is me honoring the present moment. That it is, or was, never as bad as I thought, or think. It is also the observation of the destruction between the end and beginnings that bring life, emotion, friends, family and love full circle.

I’m okay – even when I stand in the darkest place. The realization that I am who I am. Not bad or good, but Human. One who makes mistakes, tries to correct his path, one who believes in his journey, filled with good and grace. Certainly better than I thought I was or think I am. Fear is the anticipation of the uncertain end, of failure. It is an emotion that can hide the wonderful experiences of wind and rain…of snow and sand…of waves and the breeze that brushes across my face here on the mountain….it is life itself…this is exactly what I’m supposed to feel.

Head in the direction that makes you feel….well…..like you feel. To hell with people that tell you how to feel. When you are happy, be happy and angry, be angry. Don’t apologize unless you want to, unless the apology is real, flows from deep within and is who you are. Don’t pay attention or give heed to others – live your life the way you want. Surrender. Let it go. It’s going to be okay. I promise.

I simply want and need to stay out of my own way.

The summer is slipping by. It’s August ….fall will be here on the mountain before we know it. Snowbird Mountain Lodge is prepped…ready for it. School in Robbinsville started back yesterday and football season starts soon. Elizabeth is now enjoying her sophomore year. She made me smile as I took her to school. She was thankful that she was no longer a freshman – now a member of the “upper” classmen and in being so reminded me………

of all of the things I am Grateful for. I am so very thankful and my blessings continue to be counted. I am once again at peace…perhaps because I surrendered.

The sun is coming up now. Time to get Elizabeth up and headed in the right direction. Coffee. Then, I think I’ll head into the woods…to listen to the trees and wind…perhaps to even feel the rain. You’ll be there with me. In every leaf, every drop of tumbling water in the creek, in every footstep you’ll be with me…and I welcome your presence, your voice, your laughter…even if it’s only in my mind. Thank you for sharing the journey with me.

I continue to celebrate the great Adventure ahead!

Peace, Love & Light

Robert Rankin

Innkeeper, Adventurer & Explorer

Journey….

I wish I could remember what triggered the memory, but it came flooding back with all of the speed of the tide rushing in. Perhaps it was the conversation that I had with an old college buddy. Maybe it was the email exchange with a friend letting them know I understood how they felt and wanted to join them on their journey. It could have been the guest at the Lodge and something they IMG_9573said that passed through my brain, or the way the stars and moon looked from my deck late at night, but I really think it might have been Elizabeth pointing out the way the sky looked at dusk while we were driving home and the reflection of the late afternoon light as it reflected on Lake Santeetlah that launched the arrow that took me back………

It was years ago and yet not so far in the distant past. It is how people and events intertwine, tangle and mingle and that all things happen for reasons…even if we never know why. Or maybe they aren’t our reasons….or we don’t understand them for years and years….perhaps never…….our choice…..our awareness…..

I was in Sante Fe. I’d never been there before. Exploring….seeing parts and places I’d never been. We had actually traveled to a spa there. One recommended by Snowbird’s massage therapist as a place we didn’t want to miss. It was a fantastic place and I relished the down time…and the time away, but I was more drawn to the history, the people, the food, the light, the land…I spent several hours wandering through the old town. Looking at shops, watching people, smelling the air and the scents of food as it drifted through the streets. I was looking at the silver and turquoise for sale by the Navajo at Governors Square when I first saw him. Tanned face. White hair. Scraggly beard. Anywhere from late fifties to late sixties. Walking with a carved stick he was striding toward me with a broad smile and twinkle in his eye. Our eyes meet, we exchanged nods and as we passed I felt it. I can’t rightly name “it”, but it was there. Connection. I continued on past him, but at about 20 feet beyond, I turned my head to glance back. He too had turned. I smiled….and turned back. So did he. I introduced myself to him and told him that I felt as though we’d met before. He answered that perhaps we had….in this or another life. That chance meeting began a friendship that sparked me. Caused me to question myself more, made me more aware of our interactions and continues to affect my journey to this day.

ross

Ross was a magical man. A shaman. A wandering spirit, artist, father, grandfather, sentient being, man of the universe. He introduced me to many things. We shared meals. Laughter. Drinks and thoughts. He taught me about a different…new way to look at the universe and world. That we…as humans…don’t have all of the answers. That everything in the world…and beyond….is connected…..He introduced me to the Shamanic Institute in Santa Fe. A place where Shamans gather from all over the world to learn, discuss, talk and teach. Now Shamans are more than “healers”, they are spiritual guides that have wisdom passed down for generations and generations. They come from every society – every country and in many of them they are revered. In others reviled, but they have a knowledge that we all need…….Now rest assured, I am no Shaman…..

So, where’s this tale going?

Here.

Several years later, in the midst of crisis – one that encompassed all of my being – I reached out to Ross. I’d talked with him often, been back to see him several times, but this…well…this was different. I needed help that was beyond my connections. I called, but he wasn’t there so I left a message. I wasn’t in a hurry…and frankly thought I might not hear back. He was a traveler and might be away for months at a time. The next day I answered a call from a number I’d never seen before. It was Ross. “I thought I would be hearing from you” was all he said. I launched into my story for a good while and when I finished all he said was, “I know”. I breathed deeply for the first time in a long time. We chatted for a few minutes and then he said he’d be in touch. We hung up and while I felt better I was still at a loss. I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do and I wandered aimlessly for the next few days. The church wasn’t helping me, friends were there, but couldn’t. Family was trying, but I wasn’t really “there”. My faith was tested, both religious faith, faith in myself, friends and life…..frankly my faith in everything around me. I was losing hope…maybe I even lost it, unsure of who and what I was, I felt as though my identity was forever gone. Two days passed. One morning I checked my email and there it was. Ross sent me a note with a name and phone number. The note said –

This is who you need

Call

He is waiting.

Brief wasn’t it? I smiled and I think I even laughed. What? Call?? I don’t have any idea who the hell this man is. What can he offer me? Anger, frustration, bitterness all flashed through me…..then…slowly….replaced by comfort and ease. Breath I told myself. Ross knew what I was going through. He’d been there himself although it was 40 years ago. Trust I thought. Something that wasn’t/isn’t always easy for me…even now. I did. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“IGA” said the voice that answered the phone. “IGA”? I said. “Yep, what can I do for ya?”

I thought for a minute that I had the wrong number, but I swallowed…..hard….and asked for the name that Ross had sent. The man who answered the phone didn’t miss a beat, “he’s not here right now, but give me your number and I’ll get him the message”. I hung up. Shaking my head I wondered what I was managing to get myself into and what craziness was in Ross’s brain! Several hours passed when my phone rang. The voice on the other end might have been a thousand years old. “I‘ve been waiting on your call” he said. I began to tell him my story. Cutting me short……“I know” he said before I’d gotten two sentences out. I was stunned. He said he was waiting for me and gave me directions to where he was. It was Ely Minnesota. I went into shock – ELY MINNESOTA?? How the hell was I supposed to do that? I had a business, work, kids, responsibility…..and…well all the rest. I heard a deep breath on the other end of the line, “come” he said, “I’ll be waiting”.

It took the better part of a month to get it all figured out. To get 7 days free to go, but I did. I met Charlie and he opened my spirit to a universe I’d never seen. He was Chippewa or more correctly – Ojibwa – a medicine man by words, a shaman, a helper, a spirit guide, a Midewiwin to many. He took me into his home, fed me, listened to my stories and then told me what he was going to do. I was open, but felt unsure, scared and not ready for the next step, but, breathing deeply, I trusted. That night while I slept, he prepared the place. In the morning he walked with me out to a small lake and directed me to a smooth rock that overlooked the water. There, he’d drawn a circle with several markers around it. He sat me in the middle, took most of my clothes, gave me instructions, water, a blanket and told me he’d return. I was alone. In place I was totally unfamiliar with. Frightened. I sat and took in my surroundings. All day. It was stunningly beautiful. Lonely. Warm in the sunshine and cold as the dark came. I sat. My legs began to fall asleep, I began to fall asleep, but I didn’t…I think. The slight moon rose. The stars lit the sky. I dreamed. Wide awake. All night and into the next morning….. all through the next day and following night. I had visions and saw things I’m sure weren’t there..or were they? Animals, people, places, ghosts and things from my past crowded my vision. The following morning I greeted the sunrise and there he was….standing before me, he held out his hand and took mine and said “come”….I could barely stand, nearly frozen by the cold of the night and from sitting for so long.  He guided me back to his home. Behind the house, just down a hill was a sweat lodge that he and his friends had built. He opened the door flap and ushered me in. In time he took me back out and repeated the steps…time and time again….I was completely spent. Finally he took me back to his home again and fed me…rice…beans…bread. I collapsed into a bed……sleep…….long……long….sleep.

I awoke to the smell of breakfast. Getting up I wandered into the kitchen to find him over the stove fixing 2 plates of food. One for him, the other mine. We sat in silence and shared coffee and a meal. It was one of the best I’ve ever had. Afterword he nodded at me and said, “tell me”…..and I did…..of the visions, the night, the days, the birds, animals, the sounds, the sights…all of it. He nodded. Then he explained…..he interpreted all that I’d been through….Not just there, but life. Telling me that this life was a journey. On that journey we sometimes got lost, but during the journey of life we always could/should learn and understand ourselves. At times during our lives we need to be alone, to go to sacred places or spaces and pray, meditate, learn and heal. I was on my journey. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a leather cord with what looked like some twisted metal on the end. He handed it to me and said. “Wear this…keep it close to your heart, it will never allow you to forget who and what you are” He gave me the necklace. A simple leather cord with a twisted silver feather on it and words hammered into it.

I left later that day and have never been back. I’ve done other sweats and spent time alone outside. None have ever come close to that experience in the woods in Minnesota. I’ve often thought about and wondered what has become of that man…in that remote spot…..doing what he does…..but I have no worries about him for he guided me in a way that no one else could have. He reminded me of who I am and helped me rediscover myself….the “me” that I’d buried deep all those years before. The necklace remains around my neck to this day…the words are worn now from my fingers rubbing it…….close to my heart…..reminding me….keeping me “aware”. Often when I feel a little “lost” I’ll find that my hands have searched it out and will catch myself absentmindedly rubbing it between my fingers.

I talked to Ross often over the next several years. He died last year and with his death a part of me left as well. It is a connection I celebrate. You see, without David, Snowbird’s massage therapist I never would’ve gone to Santa Fe. I’d never have walked down the street and met Ross. I’d never gotten the email that sent me to Ely MN and met Charlie. Perhaps I’d never have found myself…….You see, everything happens for a reason…even if we never know it…..even if it takes years to find out why….and yes…even if we never do….it is about the journey.

I don’t often share this story….close friends mostly. Why now……Why here?……..Because it’s time. I may not know the reason, but rest assured that there is one. My journey is one that has been magic. Luck many would say. I’ve been blessed by everyone that I’ve ever come into contact with, friends and enemies. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know it will be….that I’ll discover much..much more as I continue to explore…myself and all of those I meet. I’ve loved sharing this story with you and if you’ve read this far you have my thanks…and my gratitude. You also have my very personal invitation to come join me on this mountain……to share a meal, some coffee or tea…perhaps a beer or some wine………to sit…alone…or with me and share your story with me…or not…as I’ll share mine with you….or not. To connect in a new and different way….to form a bond that will carry us forward to whatever the future holds….

It is really all about our connections…our journey, our relationships and how they form us into who and what we are.

“There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called yesterday and the other is tomorrow, so today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live.”

– The Dalai Lama

It’s late here on the mountain….or early depending on your point of view. I’ve been awake with these memories all night and embracing the magic of those moments. I can see the dawn beginning to break outside. Today is the right day! It looks to be the start of another amazing day. Thank you for letting me share this with you, I look forward to the great adventure ahead!

Robert RankinFullSizeRender (20)

Innkeeper, Adventurer, Explorer

A Night for That…indeed….

I live my life in real time. Here. It can be a never ceasing go-go-go and give-give-give. Sometimes it can get messy, and tangled and so easy to forget myself in the midst of it all, but sometimes, right when I need it the most there is a night when the universe gifts me with the path back home.

This night, tonight is a night for a hard pour of whiskey in the glass, the way the ice cracks and the heart says  “Oh yes, I know exactly how that feels.”

86fa46f7a09c799b86f7ef950a35c9d2It’s for sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire, cupping both hands around the glass and closing your eyes and breathing and raising it to your lips and soaking in the ritual. This small act is a great gift indeed when you allow it. It’s the way the mouth feels as it hits the ice cold lip of the glass, and the perfect burn that remains after the glass is pulled away.

It is sage and cedar candles on the mantle and bedside and the burn down smell of matches and smoke. It is Hinoki oil rubbed deep and liberally on bare skin until the scent of it and you are ground together as one. It’s for music that hurts, the exact right kind of ache that has an edge mingling with its sweetness in a way that could never be untangled. That should never be untangled. Because there are some things for which ache is the beauty. It’s the night you stop avoiding the words that never stop chasing you. Where you sink into the solitude and finally breathe out all that air trapped in lungs, waiting to fully exhale.

It’s knowing that at some point tonight there will be a dance. That you’ll follow the movements of your body on the wall, silhouette painted by the shadows of candlelight. That you’ll move and look with long glances until something rises in you that has not risen in a long, long time. It’s a night for coming home and gathering in and calling in the powers of nature and the howl of the wolf. Looking at the moon and stars with wonder and awe. For laying out the stones and sitting still inside the space that is you and honoring all that is holy and remains when sound ceases and the quiet surrounds you.

tumblr_n68j5kU5ZA1sowezvo1_500It’s the way when you tilt the glass all the way up and the candle light glows through and you know your face is illuminated in the most holy of ways. And the song that holds an inexpressible ache plays with every last bit of memory it holds and you are thankful, especially for that. It’s for wood that looks like bone, for cigar boxes and rusted locks and for running your fingers along all the things you’ve collected. For feeling the memories that live in each one as it travels from fingertips to your center and hearing the whispers of all the stories you have yet to tell. It’s for knowing that some stories must remain untold in order for others to be born.

It’s for remembering and honoring the past.

That moment is also to know the hope and the struggle and the stay still and run away and come here and  push back. And also what it is to say yes, to be present exactly where you are. It’s for the space where missing and the gratitude for solitude meet in the center. Where you know that one brings fullness to the other and you can give thanks for both. It is a night for contemplating.

It’s the way the wax looks as the candle burns down. The mellow that the whiskey spreads like hot wax melting into tight held bones. It’s the expansion into space. It’s the cedar and sage and Hinoki rising and carried inside of those scents.

It’s a night for calling the ghosts and welcoming them. Sitting back while they dance, all liquid heat and the yearning skin of lovers long separated. It is a night for remembering. The words. The whiskey. The music. The candles. The smell. The loves long gone and the life that is here, right now.

It is a night for coming home.

To myself

Thank you for sharing the journey with me

Robert Rankin

Innkeeper, Adventurer, Explorer

Fill Your Soul

“Jobs fill your pocket. Adventures fill your soul”

                                                                   -Jamie Lyn Beatty

I just returned to the mountain and realized something undeniable. Spirit and adventure run deep in my soul—there can be no doubt. I am an explorer. Come, share the ride with me.

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The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest of wilderness”

                                                                                                        -John Muir

I love to ramble. I lust to wander and love the freedom that comes with the unknown adventure. My senses adore the feelings of the elements as they touch me. I want to travel and will aimlessly seek out adventures in cities, crossroads and in the woods. I often find myself taking dirt roads beside creeks, streams, rivers and woods just to see where they lead. I love the way it feels to be in cities, seeing the grandeur of the buildings, art, restaurants and the masses of people. Then always I return to the peace of my home. To think, reflect, share and be in solitude. Is that a contradiction?

If home is indeed where the heart is then this is where mine belongs. After returning from Atlanta I sat in the foyer, a spot in the house that often is just passed through. Drink in hand 2015-01-14 18-29-24 -0500I spent about 40 minutes gazing at the digital photo frame that sits on a table there. The pictures of adventures scroll by. Elizabeth sat with me and asked about each photo as it passed. We laughed at many. Every single one has a story, each a place or moment frozen in time. Oh yes……..while I’d love to be able to catch the next flight out and surf the world for a great adventure, that’s not where my life is right now. So I take time to find it in all of the simple things. Dinner, laughter, gazing at the stars, long walks and just everyday moments.

I seek treasure, but not the kind you think. I search for clues and answers, scrambling over rocks in the woods and through the minds of those who cross my path. I will not be pinned down or placed in a box. I don’t have a shelf life or expiration date. My imagination is both friend and enemy with whom I often question and argue, but I look at with awe and love to set free. Those pictures of friends, family, life, adventure and exploration set that imagination free. Sharing the sense of wonder with Elizabeth created a list of places to go and people to share it with. All of them are flames that burn bright. Brought out by those photographs….I realized that I forget to let my inner child lead the way. I allow myself to become mired in fog. My head gets filled with a thousand thoughts, I carry baggage and often absorb the mess. It was good to have a reminder.

“My scars tell a story. A reminder of times when life tried to break me, but failed. They are markings of where the structure of my character was welded”

                                                                                                     -Steve Maraboli

I am fascinated by the way we operate in this world. I watch people scurry about and wonder if they are on a grand adventure or just going through the motions…. We all do it, getting caught up in our routines so much that we fail to find the adventure in everyday life. I however, won’t be forgotten. We all should refuse to be forgotten in spite of our fear, tears, scuffed knees, broken hearts and bones that mark our lives. We are like treasures from deep in the mountain, We possess so much, yet we remain hidden gathering value until we sense that the time is right to be discovered. I don’t wish to disturb you or to be disturbed, but I hate to be labelled, discussed and placed on a table or shelf for all to view.

photo (33)I love to dig for the truth in myself and uncover things, trying to unravel an endless rope of hopes and dreams gone awry. I can be wild, my hair long, ride fast and am furious and untamable. I go slow down country roads, lost in the woods because this is where my magic can be found. I am a piece of art appreciated by a few, those who resonate with embers of the flame by the light of the fire. I like bare feet, my heart beating and my hands and mind open. My eyes are full of magic to be shared.

So, if you ever pass by my magical place on this mountain, I ask you to stop for a moment. Share with me as I will with you. Tell me about your journey, the adventure and exploration that you’ve had so far. Talk to me of your days and nights and let’s unleash our fantasies. We are blessed beyond belief and have time to rest. I will not tire, so sit with me, lie down on this meadow on top of this windy mountain and tell me where you began, let’s fill our souls. Purchase this image at http://www.stocksy.com/480968

“It is easy to be a Holy Man on top of a mountain”

                                                                -Somerset Maugham

In Celebration of the Great Adventure Ahead!!!!!!

Robert Rankin

Innkeeper, Adventurer & Explorer