The Weightiness of the Long Distance Helper
I was attracted to the lifestyle of animals at an early age. I longed to be something like a fox, needing nothing more for shelter than a safe enough place to sleep, finding food and water where I might, carrying nothing but my fur. As I got older, I admired the frontiersmen on TV who carried nothing but a bedroll, a gun and a knife. I admired Indian braves who rode horses bareback, not needing the heavy, bulky saddles used by the whites. It seemed to me that one of the main things setting humans apart from other animals was that humans were oppressively encumbered. In the story, A Christmas Carol, I knew the truth of the chains Bob Marley lugged around. They were the stuff we burden ourselves with. Still, I lived life more or less conventionally. I owned cars, as well as a house at one point. Renovating and selling that house convinced me to never again undertake home ownership. I divested myself of a lot when I moved into a series of ever smaller apartments. Then came the war in U