On a sunny February Colorado afternoon while sitting in the back of an old Land Cruiser, I watched my two brothers argue, lovingly. These are not my brothers by birth. My only blood brother died gasping for air in his crib before I had the chance to meet him.
My brothers, Marc and Kurt, and I met in our early twenties while searching for our identities in a maze of false ideology based in consumerism. We met because we rejected this story that our identities were determined by the purchasing power and access to goods and services presented by this win-lose mindset of society. In James Dean fashion, we did not buy this storyline.
We bought old cars and outdoor equipment. We worked seasonal jobs and would plan for climbing, skiing, biking and outdoor trips during periods of unemployment. We had no cell phones, no credit cards, no bills and no money.
We were dirtbags. This was our choice. Sure, we had ambitions but not the typical ambitions of settling down, having a pension for retirement, and saving for a week-long trip to Disneyland (note: we looked like circus performers and could have been mistaken for a traveling circus).
What we did was this: we supported each other in our divine gift to be human. We shared our joy for adventure, we heated water on camp stoves while our fingers froze, we bought old gear and re-engineered it for our purpose as timeless-changeless astronauts.
As I was sitting in the backseat listening to my brothers, I saw the snow covered mountains through a broken windshield. Was our vision of youth broken? Did it benefit us in our current daily lives? That answer is simple.
We are brothers, together. Kurt and Marc have a resourcefulness like no other I know. They imagine and then build this imagination. They have a zest for life. They still don't live a typical life. They inspire me to this day for their continued adventures of the mind in this body-life.
To all the creative misfits out there, you are not alone. I value you. I honor you that you celebrate your vision of truth. Don’t give up.