These are the definitions of two words that I have come to identify closely with in the search for direction, fueled with by sincere passions. No, I don't commit crimes or acts of maliciousness, and as far as I know I'm not disreputable. The sense of shamelessness lies in the freedom of the vagabond. As in;
"one feels know remorse for their freedom" and "doesn't apologize for the inane ability to bask"
I had been in Kerrville,TX with my newspaper colleagues to compete in TIPA 2010. (Texas Intercollegiate Press Association) On the way back we stopped to take photos of natural nothingness.
As I lay on the side of a back-road expressway 12 miles outside of Comfort, TX with my old Fujifilm taking picture of my 11 year old faded blue Converse All-Stars the moment truck me.
"I have no idea where the hell I am,"
I had no bearing on my location that brought comfort, and I certainly had never been in that part of the Lone Star State. I remember thinking about what it would be like to be left alone. What if Heath and Meagan weren't 10 ft. away in the foliage greenery? More abandoningly, what if the truck we were riding in disappeared, and took all my luggage with it?
I would be left with my old shoes, crooked aviator sunglasses, $27, an out of date camera and one bar on my cell phone, and I was OK with that. Reality quickly slapped my inhibitions as I realized we had a couple of hours on the road, and that there were at least a handful of people that would care if wandered away.
I'm aware of responsibility, but for that moment existence meant more than societal comforts could provide. It was serenely simple, and there was no questions about anything. When the diverting indulgence of daily tasks and banters fled, clarity rushed in.
I had no shame. My home was where I made it.
The idea became my loyal follower and now I'm here. With you. On the grid. At home.