I woke up at 4:30 am, typed up my dreams from the night before, the number 3 repeating through-out my sleep. Three is the number of the trinity, of wholeness, of being a part of the one.
This time, I skipped the bitter coffee in the Keurig and ordered breakfast and coffee from McDonalds. I haven\’t had fast food since Scott and I traveled through Crescent City several months ago.
This morning before my check-out, I am reading Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road, Neal Peart\’s writings and journal of his motorcycle trip through the Americas after losing his wife and daughter tragically within months of each other.
In a previous post, I mentioned this was one of Scott\’s favorite books he wanted me to read that I neglected to pick up before now.
Sipping my coffee, I find Neil Peart traveling through the Napa Valley. During his road trip from Canada to the States, he has been reading Jack London\’s books Sea Wolf and Martin Eden. After staying the night in St. Helena, he decides to ride out to Jack London\’s ranch in the Sonoma Valley.
While describing his walk through Jack London park, tasting the air of melancholy, watching the birds in the oaks through his binoculars, and eating lunch at the remains of the Wolf House, Jack London\’s dream home that mysteriously burned down before completion, he recites a quote of Jack London\’s:
\”I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze
Than it should be stifled by dryrot.
I would rather be a superb meteor,
Every atom of me in magnificent glow,
Than a sleepy and permanent planet
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time\”
I put down the book remembering how I was touched by this same quote after Scott\’s passing. Returning to the Sonoma Valley, fallen with grief, I read this quote on a poster of Jack London pasted on the wall at the post office in Glen Ellen, the home of Jack London\’s Ranch while I mailed off a card to one of my blog readers. I remember it lifting my spirits reading Jack London\’s words. Soon, I would be visiting Jack London\’s Ranch myself taking the walk passed his grave to the Wolf House.