The journey following my dream unveiled unorthodox random encounters. Situations once almost consciously purposefully avoided. Encounters that would have been so hard to fabricate and accept at the moment without this cumbersome road to the dream of fulfillment. I remember walking from my camp stealth camp site near a friend’s place to go to a coffee shop in the pringle community. I recall camping, because of concern of getting them in trouble if I stayed for longer than 14 days. I was going to go to Emerald pools in the Opal Wilderness, but being ill prepared due to front loading and gear disparity I settled for a campsite nearby. Finding peace at this site recalling myself as the free one. The one who was fortunate. Opposite of what some might think. My philosophy was self fulfilling as I camped and built confidence and recognition that this travel journalism is pulling me in like a black hole. My mind experiencing local maximum creativity, thought processes and thoughts that covered so much vast landscape. A mind that could see past the horizon when viewing from a boat in the middle of the ocean. My mind experienced a much larger landscape than what one might see high up looking across the ocean. It was not peace from glazing to the horizon working the sextant getting the fix on sunset or rise and attempting a celestial fix on the moon or seeing a plethora of shooting stars. This experience of sailing around the world many years ago valed in comparison to what my thoughts now extended to. It felt incredible. The mind was reaching so far out way past a comfort zone I once was restrained by. I felt somewhat obligated to be this international travel journalist and instead of thinking of myself as lonely and isolated in the woods instead I flipped the perspective to say to myself the world is missing me. They were not complete. I was the missing link recalling happy thoughts. The world is lonely without me. I do have plans for unity formulating many years ago and will get into later as the road forms in front of the eye seeing the path. One day after isolation for a few days I walked to the pringle community to a coffee shop to charge my electronics and enjoy a setting to further organize my thoughts and documents. The days building up to it were full of taking notes and organizing mind mapping structures in my notes. As I found my way to the Pringle community a library in the shape of a large mailbox leaned out onto the road. Taking a glance at what was there I hoped for two herb books. I collected them and completed my walk to the coffee shop. Charging my electronics, reading the books and brainstorming slash organizing thoughts all occurred as I realized I look nothing like this group of community people on their habitual trip to the coffee shop and me for a one time visit. I couldn’t afford a pastry and coffee, but the gentlemen at the registered sidestepped the cost ensuring I ate and enjoyed a wonderful couple glasses of coffee. The herb book I read first described a forgotten world with natural medicines and remedies, which hit home like green bean casserole in the midwest MN. The other book was how to use herbs for beauty, which wasnt really as enticing until I read about herbs that help healing and prevent athlete’s foot. The thought of self medicated foraging to avoid damaging my feet while on expeditions was very important to me. I’ve had my feet destroyed while hiking the Appalachian trail in 2009. I was on my second or third day, according to memory, hiking the Great White Mtns in New Hampshire, the 13 states I was traveling through as I started my hike in the south in GA. I had very little trail left when compared to the approximate 2000 miles I had already hiked well into my 6 months hiking the AT. Before dispatching in the Whites I recall wearing some Merrell boots found in a hiker box. The sole was almost completely split from the boot cover. The boots were in rough shape, but I laced them anyway hoping they could get me through NH and more importantly the Great White Mtns. My feet were pretty messed up three days into hiking this trail over the rigdeline of the Whites traversing one presidential mountain at a time. A critical choice I had was to get off the ridge line and take a side trail back to town. Barely feeling able to move I stumbled and moaned as I made my way back to town to see how I can improve my footwear. Heading back into town I stopped at a hostel run by a man who had a propane stove blow up in his face, who experienced blindness as a result for multiple years. At his hostel I recall finding a big bottle of shoeglue, which was used to glue my Merrell boots back to its original form or at least fixed back to a place where they were usable. This was my worst experience on my 7 month hike finishing the Appalachian Trail. Recall that painful experience you could imagine how excited I was to learn about natural remedies that can heal my feet. This discovery along with the real page turner herb books I gleamed with happiness as I felt even more reassured and connected to Earth. Back to Pringle community which is deemed to be part of the city of Salem. I saw hose spinkets leading water and some carpentry work for quick fixes to give the garden integrity. With the notes I made and acquiring the community pringle garden facebook page and email I was on my way. A new feeling came over me, one I did not imagine would vere its head now or anytime in the next couple of decades. It was a sense of admiration for this community and compassion. Originally I practiced vigilant bias against the cities of the US seeing how they are treated and how people take care of them, but this place was an anomaly. I easily let myself feel up with interest, respect and empathy for this community allowing my mind to slightly come off of the numb pain I felt with a calloused heart toward the notorious satan’s army government of this state. The healing in me that occured was very welcomed as I viewed this place as a valuable worthy and fulfilling nitch place of Salem. I still wanted to hate OR because of how the government in Washington Co north part of Oregon tortured, humiliated and shredded me of my dignity dragging my name in the dirt, but at this moment I systematically differentiated that distasteful experience and location with this gem found in Salem. It was a healing event that might never have occurred for many years. I found gratitude for this unorthodox life and changed my mind about the cities in this country. Before then I swore up and down that all I want to do is work with farmers in the country, giving them technology while adhering to the old ways of honor with handshake deals and transparency. Also stating religiously Oregon was not good enough for me just repeated hate playing on replay in my mind up until this moment of peaceful relief. I was now mentally available to work in the cities of this country without scales on my eyes. I felt like I got some of my life back and satan’s army took a loss. They do not define me nor blind me with frustration and distaste like before. They were cancer, but this illness was not through the entire state and I acknowledged that like never before. I could now be more part of the effective part of this state with reservations and reminders that it is not completely a loss cause. It sounds sinister and I knew it was, but I recall being committed to bring attention to satan’s army by continually hating what they did to me, what they did to others. The number of people’s lives affected by this army scales far and wide, but it does not make it terminal. They are the cancer and parts of Oregon were beginning to be immune. I perceived as I grew an interest in being part of the beautiful encounters that occur while living a life as a wanderer, a nomadic warrior. I had more confidence to be a nomadic mechanizer in areas like this opening up the potential for places I can have positive effects. The next random place I went after spending much time in this part of Salem was on Tripp st with my good friend Lidell. One day I walked from his place to get groceries. On the way I met this lady working very busily on hedges covering the perimeter of what is called,”Isaac’s Community Garden”. I started talking to her, namely Leslie. I was clearing the sidewalk as she maneuvered the hedges. Having encountered a community garden in Salem once before I felt more free flowing talking to her as I mentioned thoughts of improving the garden. I mention electrical apparatuses to test and observe the garden, finding she agreed to allow my experiment to proceed. I was filled with joy and excitement. The potential I felt I had to offer to this garden was monumental. I had stars for eyes that were heavy stones once were. We found a line of communication and scheduled a day for me to come by and test out my rapid prototype moisture sensor module. I was given by a patient lady named Joan at Isaac’s gate. Walking into the garden I could barely contain myself as we talked and tested parts of the garden. We had mutual interest in working further together building more complex systems that could and should be impactful for the community, environment and collaboration skills. I showed my gratitude and expressed the tranquility experienced from roaming the garden rows. I could only stay 30 minutes because I was planning on departing on a 160 mile journey from Mills City to Sisters OR. This journey I just returned from not making it as far as planned, but feeling rewarded nevertheless. I wanted to post this experience before my previous departure but seeked permission first. I hope people see my intentions are good and dreams are better. I thank these kind women gregariously for allowing me to experience this event. A seed of friendship has been planted and automating water to grow that friendship is like minded and consensus to form. Thanks for walking the journey with me. I hope to continue forward and use the experience and event to alleviate concern and fear of the unknown as we become important figures in a community and world that just needs some automated water.”