Me And My Mantra All Alone And Feelin' Free

Montana Bunkhouse
June 26

Bev stopped over to see how I was doing and I was glad to see her
again. I felt pretty good. We decided to go to Many Glacier and do
some hiking. I also got my bike back on the same day. The first thing
I did was check to see if the acid was still in my radio. When I told
Bev why getting my bike back had made me so anxious, she said, "Why
don't we put some of that acid to use and go hiking." That sounded
good to me, so by the time we were hiking the trail, we were also
flying pretty high. (That Windowpane acid never ceased to amaze me. It
was always good.) We didn't run into anyone else hiking the trails.
The rain probably kept everybody away. For us, the rain and the beauty
of the place just made the trip all that much more unique. Besides, I
had a roof and dry clothes to go home to, and that's always made being
out in the rain far more enjoyable. I let Bev wear my rain gear, so
she managed to stay relatively dry. All in all, it was a great day.

June 28

Today I rode my bike up to Many Glacier. This time I was strong
enough to climb up to the caves. On the way up, I looked for fossils
but had no luck. My luck wasn't any better when I reached the shallow
graffiti filled caves. I hung out in one of the caves while it rained,
but not for long. I preferred to be rained on as opposed to sitting
around broken bottles and trashy cigarette butts. In the mountains,
it's always raining. You just have to deal with it.

Wherever I go, people ask me if I like traveling alone (a real bring
down to most). If I say, "Yes," they look at me as if I'm nuts or
something. Before I get bummed out (and I can tell when I'm on my
way), I retreat into my mantra, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. No matter where
I am, or what I'm doing, I am no more, or no less, than Nam Myoho
Renge Kyo. With my mantra going, under a blue sky, or gray, I've got
the whole world with me.

June 29

When I told Tom I was going to continue my bicycle trip, he said,
"That's great," and then he asked me to stay and help him finish
painting. The bathhouse was about done, but there were a couple
outbuildings to be painted. When I hesitated, he said, "When you're
finished, take a week off and go camping in the mountains. Take a
vacation. You won't get another chance like this." Tom was right. I
probably would have helped him even without his encouragement, but the
thought of spending a week in the wilderness was, for me, the icing on
the cake. I decided to stay and work as long as I was needed.