about Peter Schubert
Born of life’s urgent purpose, disruptor to Bunny and Jerry’s ‘50s golden Californian beach party adolescence. In the crib I learn solitude hard and decohere many times before I am me. The scaring sublimates under charm and wonders of sunset ocean sparkles at Malibu.
My grandfather teaches me to nurture soil and make fire. My grandmother teaches me to read and gives me books to feed my mind and a telescope to see the planets and messier objects. I learn to emulate human at a high degree of proficiency. I break up with my first girlfriend in kindergarten.
The nuclear family moves to Oregon (a land of beautiful skies I notice with wonder), continuing a century of ancestral exile, and what tiny delicate tribal roots there are are lost.
I date Homer Simpson’s daughter. Milk cows. Begin to journal and consult the iChing.
In college for a few hours, and drop out to save the whales. I encounter an angel who gifts me three words of instruction that are a mystery to me to this day. The word psychopomp climbs onto my shoulder and rides there still. Mistaken for Christ, i play the part with novice mercy. In the New Mexico desert, after riding a freight train across the Mohave to a corner in Winslow Arizona, I learn the rules of heaven.
While planting 50,000 trees, I learn book keeping, and the outlier analytic aptitude it reveals becomes a craft, my trade through nearly the complete arc of the personal computing age and into the beginning of the my third Saturn cycle. I flirt with a muggle life for 30 years, but am not any good at it. Husbandry mastered. My daughter is lost to me, and found, a best miracle. My collection of ex wives is complete.
Grokking the first half of ‘How to Change Your Mind’ as the secularized dharma it contains, I initiate into the realms of neurogenic acceleration, healing lore. The ForestWay blossoms as something beautiful happening, the act of Ending surprisingly familiar, super powered. A mused discovery: I am devoted to the embodiment of playful compassionate presence in service to the legacy of the beloved.
Gonna explore here a while. Anthropocene apprentice, vanaprastha forager. Story with me Pilgrim, tell me your truth and love.
……………………………………….
{credit to Stephen Jenkinson, from whom i steal this memoir vignette voice… scroll to About the Author… https://orphanwisdom.com/about/}
My grandfather teaches me to nurture soil and make fire. My grandmother teaches me to read and gives me books to feed my mind and a telescope to see the planets and messier objects. I learn to emulate human at a high degree of proficiency. I break up with my first girlfriend in kindergarten.
The nuclear family moves to Oregon (a land of beautiful skies I notice with wonder), continuing a century of ancestral exile, and what tiny delicate tribal roots there are are lost.
I date Homer Simpson’s daughter. Milk cows. Begin to journal and consult the iChing.
In college for a few hours, and drop out to save the whales. I encounter an angel who gifts me three words of instruction that are a mystery to me to this day. The word psychopomp climbs onto my shoulder and rides there still. Mistaken for Christ, i play the part with novice mercy. In the New Mexico desert, after riding a freight train across the Mohave to a corner in Winslow Arizona, I learn the rules of heaven.
While planting 50,000 trees, I learn book keeping, and the outlier analytic aptitude it reveals becomes a craft, my trade through nearly the complete arc of the personal computing age and into the beginning of the my third Saturn cycle. I flirt with a muggle life for 30 years, but am not any good at it. Husbandry mastered. My daughter is lost to me, and found, a best miracle. My collection of ex wives is complete.
Grokking the first half of ‘How to Change Your Mind’ as the secularized dharma it contains, I initiate into the realms of neurogenic acceleration, healing lore. The ForestWay blossoms as something beautiful happening, the act of Ending surprisingly familiar, super powered. A mused discovery: I am devoted to the embodiment of playful compassionate presence in service to the legacy of the beloved.
Gonna explore here a while. Anthropocene apprentice, vanaprastha forager. Story with me Pilgrim, tell me your truth and love.
……………………………………….
{credit to Stephen Jenkinson, from whom i steal this memoir vignette voice… scroll to About the Author… https://orphanwisdom.com/about/}