Ray Smith and I should be Friends

I finished The Dharma Bums today, sipping some tea and enjoying the quiet of my living room. It's an excellent book, and thought provoking too. The narrator, Ray Smith, is a bum who practices Buddhism in the '50s, and is a beat poet to boot. Classic Kerouac style, all flurries of words and sensations and little time to slow down. And yet this was much slower than On the Road, due to its more contemplative nature, and long expanses of solitude in the wilderness.

Reading this makes me want to hike mountains, or at least walk around outside more often. I realize how much I miss the greenery; New Haven was nice, but sometimes it's nice to have a forest in my backyard.

Dharma bums, what a curious turn of phrase. One whose calling is to be a bum and wander and live simply. I'd say I'd want to be that, but honestly I prefer the chaos and clutter of life over totally tuning it out.

I also started La Scomparsa di Patò today, which will be slow going and difficult, but, I hope, worth it.