The Dharma Bums

“The journey is my home.” – Matsuo Bashō

I have a memory that is now firmly rooted in the realm of mythology. But it’s the origin of so much of what I enjoy about my life today, and a little mythmaking feels okay. It’s a simple story: a brief encounter on a rolling hill north of Mount Shasta in California on a beautiful summer day in 1993 that tilted my life in many new directions.

After two years as a Coast Guard sailor on the Cutter Storis in Kodiak, Alaska, I returned to California and enrolled in an art school in Seattle. With a summer to spare before moving, I said goodbye to my family from a favorite campsite at Sonora Pass for a seven-week thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail into Oregon.

About four weeks later, on the beautiful summer day of my story, I was cresting a grass-covered open bluff when I saw a southbound hiker approaching. In my memory, the man looks a lot like Neil Young with vintage backpacking gear, heading towards me with a big smile and the warmth of a longtime friend.

The hiker immediately launched into an exuberant and laughing introduction, starting with a description of how he and his wife were having some trouble, so he decided to go for a long walk. He then peppered me with questions about resupply options south, particularly fixating on macaroni and cheese. The rest of the conversation flew by as I shared my summer goal of hiking into Oregon. I think he asked me about macaroni and cheese a few more times before we parted ways, heading in opposite directions. We walked 30 feet apart, and I was about to head down the bluff when he called back, “Have you ever read The Dharma Bums?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, you’ve got to read it,” he replied. “Because it’s what we are!”

And then he was gone.

I imagine that encounter like a story from China’s Zen Buddhist past. The old monk demands of me, “Does a dog have Buddha nature?” I’ve often wondered if Zen koans are not partly crafted for just these types of spontaneous encounters between traveling strangers.

Reading The Dharma Bums a year later in Seattle confirmed my PCT hiking experience, both as a travel and wilderness journey. It led me back to the PCT in the years ahead and introduced me to Zen Buddhism, which took me to Japanese and American Zen temples. There, I encountered questions that I’m still puzzled by today, met lifelong friends, enjoyed many more books, and made many other choices, both big and small, that all reverberate from that hilltop meeting.

What is a Dharma Bum? It is a quality that I have not always been able to find throughout my life. It seems to appear when a few ingredients are present: a simplicity of needs and means, a willingness to travel on less-used paths, and solitary moments intermingled with serendipitous encounters with others. These elements have taken different forms throughout history, from religious pilgrimages to merchant marine voyages, hobo rail journeys, wilderness cabin retreats, and van life. For me, it was introduced through long-distance thru-hiking.

Among fellow travelers, I often detect a shared sense of longing, but the origins of this longing can be diverse. It may stem from a spiritual quest, a desire for change or freedom, an adventurous spirit, a hopeful exploration, or simply a curiosity about the world.

What strikes me most about these adventures is the aspect of vulnerability that accompanies them. Whenever I nervously step out my door with my life contained in a backpack, the air and light become electrified, my footsteps feel more meaningful, and I wonder how I could have missed such beautiful landscapes. It can be an astonishing, emotional, and almost hallucinatory experience. My use of the word vulnerable is also because it really is. Rain falls, the trail is lost, backpack necessities get misplaced, and mishaps happen. It’s a delicate place to be, but I know it’s essential to the recipe.

“These beautiful days must enrich all my life. They do not exist as mere pictures– maps hung upon the walls of memory to brighten at times when touched by association or will, only to sink again like a landscape in the dark; but they saturate themselves into every part of the body and live always.” -John Muir

The hilltop meeting remains a constant source of inspiration. “Dharma Bums… It’s what we are!” Over the years, I’ve met teachers, artists, friends, mentors, and poets who suggest that this vision is possible regardless of our circumstances. Can I simply step out my door for a walk and engage with the world as I did during those months on the trail? In Japan, I asked a nun over coffee how to know we’re on the right path. She replied, “Just keep asking the question.”

“The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.” -Dogen

So, I’ll continue to ask myself, what is a Dharma Bum? I will keep an eye out for them in my world, and I hope that life will allow me a few more opportunities to experience such wakefulness.