Several days ago I wrote this: (yes I know I got two post I should write before this one, and at least one after...I'm late)

Estoy en Tapalpa por fin. El clima es fresco, el aire es puro y the new black is green. At least here. Sorry for the change of language in between blinks, I remembered my blog. This may be a long post so take a sit and every five minutes stand up. You pass too many hours sitting, anyway.
To be truth to the spirit of this blog, I should start several days before in my narration. Ever since I was a boy; I loved nature. Many teachers prophesied biology as my mayor (even though I told them how I wanted to be a vet). Yet I love in a different way I suppose. For example, the first time someone told my parents to bring me in to the boy scouts, I redundantly said "NO". In the classic old wimpy way of childs. With time, I have become more water-like, but in the core I certainly still am what I want myself to be. Sometimes I'll be like ice, and people will wonder where's the Memo I know. I love to walk don't matter if it's in the middle of the city, the beach or in green hills. I like flowing, that's why driving in the city is fun, I figure. And all these is just part of how I got nature in my head. It's Tao, if you want. When I walk I am what nature is willing. I think while doing it, and great things happen. I discover the world, by being part of it. However, life is more than letting go, it's about willing. I'm not only water and ice, I shall be steam. The kind that moves engines or that crosses continents in a day. And I shall not be just a cloud, I will rain, no I'll diluviate! For all the time that I swear to love nature, I have been too much in the abstract plane. It's time of storm. That's why I am here in the middle of nowhere.

Time to catch up with my words.

Some weeks ago, I yelled for a certain person who didn't like walking barefoot over grass. So here I am. After setting up my place, I got a vacuum in my plan. "What to do?" "¬_¬ now that I'm here." I like to let things happen, I wasn't worried where to leave Lucy (my car) or where would I spent the night. Part of me still thinks, all will be good when necessary. Which for an atheist is a terrible surprise. I'm cocky or overconfident on my imagination and intelligence, but somehow I recognize that most is just playing with Luck. And I like believing myself a lucky guy, but that should transmutate, it's too passive. Life certainly is good as far as it has gone; but it's incomplete. As this period in my life goes, I more and more open my eyes to how many roads I haven't even know they exist. Rivers have so much to see before going sea.
I'm hopeful, every week I can see some stupid self-imposed limitation shrink of gone, I surprise myself every so often, but ain't enough. Too many "I"s in this life.

Need to grow up. Less I'm immortal, more confidence. Less formalism, more... Whatever!

Doing this trip isn't a vacation, it's a strategic recover center.