Some have gone to Hell and back to find themselves. I survived the journey and I’m stronger because of it. In this Place and Time I am the best Me I have ever been…

I write in the voice of who I was and not the person I am today. Many of you will feel empathy, sympathy and pain for my words. Try not to. Feel for the victims, their lives and deaths matter.

I am honored to have lived the intense life I have. I have defended those that couldn’t defend themselves. I stood shoulder to shoulder with my Brothers. People have risked their lives for me and I for them. I lived in a violent World where your reputation was everything. Truth mattered.

How many get a chance to live in this World?

My Definition of Peace

Mine is a “Peace of Mind” and not some numb disconnected thing. I did not find this Peace by sitting on a black cushion in some dark room making weird noises. I found it within me. I am a hillbilly Buddha having discovered my own enlightenment. I don’t want to be Tom Cruise or an NBA star. I love being me and being a part of the life I create around me.

I found my Peace in the Deserts and Mountains of Utah and Nevada years ago. Back then I lived wild with only my dogs. I avoided all human contact and rode into the backwater towns for supplies under the cover of darkness. I began to find ways to heal myself.

Everyday I stood in a steep walled canyon screaming “WHY” until I could scream no more and “WHY” didn’t matter.

I wrote everything I could remember that haunted me. The deaths, the bodies, the betrayals. The failures, the near misses, the luck, the survivor guilt. Every night I would burn it all and start over the next morning. I pounded my fists into the red dirt and howled into the night like the wounded Animal I was. I learned how to forget – how to forgive – how to find a place for my Memories. I was troubled by my past and found my own way through it. I learned to look inward to find what caused me to react to the World in the ways that I did.

For me it started with rage. When I had my career I had explosive fits of rage. The rage had a home in me and served me well in the fights but when the career was over I didn’t want to lose control of my mind anymore. I waited and watched. As a new rage would build in me I would do my best to sense every aspect of it. To smell, feel, taste it. To feel it building. Once I was familiar with the beginning of my Rage I waited for it and visualized putting a trash can lid over it. I tried and failed many, many times to stop it.

Then one day I was able to stop my rage. In that moment I was changed forever. For the first time in my life I felt the reins of my mind in my hands. I was in control and things have been better ever since. I have shared this technique with others who have been effected by PTSD and it has been helpful for some of them. I have not experienced an explosive fit of rage since that day. I learned to take control of other parts of my mind that I didn’t like to. Fewer things bothered me.

This is the Peace I speak of. A Peace of knowing oneself. Of being able to look inward and control what causes you pain or pleasure. To not be troubled, to know what makes you tick.

This is the Peace I’ve found

Michael of the Distant Mountains

© 2015, Michael Fulcher. All rights reserved.

3 thoughts on “Peace”

  1. Well written & shared from a Place where..
    “you had to be there”… no doubts.
    Beautiful Photo’s…and strong convictions of what “M”
    ..many of us humans go thru day by day. Not many at The Level you did but No Doubt..
    It’s made you a better human being..
    …. That’s Beautiful….
    and those that could have the opportunity to learn from Your teachings would No Doubt also..
    “see the Light at the end of the tunnel….” heading their way!
    Glad it made it to you….after the long journey.
    Keep sharing..FANTASTIC….under the circumstances..
    thank you!! PEACE….!!!

  2. Beginning a Journey
    Sean Prentiss

    “The way one approaches a wildernesses story is to fashion a quest” – Tim Cahill

    Every journey, whenever and wherever it begins, has a before and an after.
    In the moments before you begin a journey, you are something less: less complete, less aware, less developed, less sure of where you are going or what you will find. But you are also less jaded because you don’t know of all the dead ends ahead, less burnt from the days scorching beneath that black sun, less weary because you have not yet walked the hard rock road through those harsh deserts.
    Afterward, you become something more: more aged from the years searching for whatever your heart needs, whatever made you begin this fool’s journey. More weary from the fretting of failure, from the glances at the map to ensure you are on a right path. But also maybe, if you are lucky, wealthier for the sunrises seen breaking over those serrated mountains and the new friends you’ve met along the way.
    But can a person precisely point, as if on a map, to the origin of a true, transformative journey? Is there a proper beginning?

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