An artist's journal from the outer edges of our culture.

The most sacred thing we have to share is our story. The most sacred thing we can receive is another person's story.
- Jim Newsom, long-time Heron Dance and Zen Mountain Journal reader.

I’ve spent my adult life, and some of my teen years, wandering around the outer edges of the human enclosure — Indian reserves, paddling the north shore of Lake Superior, hanging out with musicians and artists, novelists, adventurers and people who serve some concept of a greater good. It has been my experience that the most interesting people, the most interesting stories, the most original work originates there.

Outsiders have a minimum vested interest in the dominant values of the culture. We can explore sparsely inhabited territory — explore what it really means to be human. We work where one reality encounters another, where light encounters dark, where scariness and beauty mingle, where demons and gods dance. There, vague sensations are encountered that can often only be sensed on some kind of preverbal basis. We explore our interior world, explore the mystery of existence, of nature. We do what we do based on some combination of imagination, hard work and discipline. We search for truth and find part-truth. Many of us who dwell out there on the edges are indifferent to what others may consider respectable. To do what we do, it helps to not be overly concerned about what others think. Change happens at the edges, at the margin. Artists like things a little unsettled, a little out of whack. That’s where new forms, new ways of thinking, emerge. Artists, whether we paint nature or not, paint that which is wild, free, unrestrained. The dominant culture offers safety and security; the outer edges of the human enclosure offer a deep experience of life.

Over a period of years I made several road trips around North America interviewing people who climbed the world’s mountains, people who sailed alone around the world, people who volunteered in prisons and refugee camps, artists and backwoods wanderers. I asked them about their spiritual life, about learning hard lessons and about trade-offs and compromises. Those roughly a hundred and fifty interviews, and my evolving perspectives on them, continue to shape this work.

In Colorado, I interviewed Jeff Casebolt, then a Colorado Outward Bound instructor, who had traveled the entire west coast of North and South America — kayaking from Alaska to just north of Vancouver and then, from there, cycling to Tierra del Fuego at the tip of South America. Jeff opened the interview by probing my motivations: was this book about thrill-seeking adventure, or about the deeper questions surrounding what it means to live a spiritual life, a life on your own terms? Apparently satisfied, Jeff told me to proceed with my questions. I wrote afterwards:

The intensity of Jeff’s gaze startled me. The first thing I asked him was why he did the trip. "It was both a physical and a spiritual journey. The word ‘spiritual’ has a lot of negative trappings associated with it, but I think all of us are on an inward journey. On the trip, people kept asking me why I was doing it, and the answer always changed. The picture changes. I am realizing, more and more, that it really was something that I was looking for internally. The external was certainly an incredible adventure, but it is more and more clear to me that we are all looking for inner peace.

That two and a half years is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life. It’s like a metaphor. Life is a journey. It’s an external journey and an internal journey. My desire now for a spiritual depth and awareness of a presence in my life is a result of the trip. Having encountered some really amazing people -- encountered highs and lows -- that I could never have accessed within myself. The trip was a glacier that gouged internally. Gouged my soul. The marks are indelibly inscribed in my soul. Meeting people who had nothing, who would take the shirt off their back to help me -- taught me just how greedy we are. How people who have lots of money and lots of resources don't know how to be generous. People who have nothing but who have a real connection with themselves and with their family and with people realize that life is really about people and love. The kind of connection and love that we can create and give each other.

I questioned Jeff’s assertion that we are all looking for inner peace. It has been my impression that very few are actually searching for inner peace, and in fact, if more people were on that search, the world would be a much different place. He answered: "I think a lot of people are not conscious of what they are looking for, they couldn't articulate it, or even think about it. But yes, I think everybody is searching for an inner kind of place that is more peaceful."
‍ ‍- Jeff Casebolt, Colorado Outward Bound Instructor, long distance cyclist, long distance ocean kayaker.

In Zen Mountain Journal I draw from these interviews, from books I’ve read and stories I’ve heard around campfires and reflect on what life is teaching me, or trying to teach me. I write about the joys, meaning and deep experience of life to be found out on the outer edges along with the sacrifices and cost of that life. And I express my thoughts through my art — over 3,000 watercolors and acrylic ink paintings over the last thirty years.

I tell my story and hope that you will record your story. Zen Mountain Journal is my journal. It helps me come to terms with the journey I’m on. Journaling can help us understand the hidden currents that underlie our lives, and the repeating patterns that shape our lives for better or worse. Journaling can help us discover and nurture the tiny seed within ourselves that wants to manifest as our contribution to the lives of others based on our own unique strengths and weaknesses. I encourage you to write down your sacred story as you read mine.

Zen Mountain Journal is the work of a traveler, a searcher and seeker on the trail rather than a master with the answers or a recipe for how to find inner peace. At times I wander off the trail and get completely lost. I am easily distracted by shiny objects.

Interviews, stories, reflections and art — and the questions they leave behind

Zen Mountain Journal is published two or three times a week on Substack. You can sign up here.

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Life is a desperate struggle to be in fact that which we are in design. 
- Ortega y Gasset