What does this conversation feel like from the other end?
The closest I can get, perhaps, is saying what they want to hear.
I know what they want to hear. I can feel their righteousness behind every word.
Disguised as indifference, their carefully constructed uncompromising promise to follow the direction of the wind hides behind neatly trimmed hedges and a moat as wide as the Mississippi River is long.
Politics of the left leaning mind.
Never once has an arrow damaged their message. How could an arrow cut the wind?
I work hard for my opinion. But blow as I might, the direction of the wind can never be altered by just one man.
At the end of each day, I just hang my hat above a foundation of stone, and weather the shifting winds from all directions.
Politics of the right leaning mind.
I was bound to catch a trail name eventually, a name given to you by another hiker.
Trail names, easier to remember than real names, can be refused or accepted, but usually serve as a social commentary on the moment or the person.
Some are created by accident. A broken spoon might earn you the name Spoon. An old man might call you something funny earning you the name Rockstar or Shadow.
Maybe you're a couple that fits a theme from a movie, or maybe you're just a fast walker that's earned some street cred.
Maybe you're a medic. Maybe you're an actor.
Or maybe you talk politics.
I talk politics.
After biting the apple at KOA, I zero miled the day away, my first in 178 miles. A quick hitch to the grocery store with Squirrel and Listen, and we had enough beer and hot dogs for an impromptu hiker family reunion.
And with nothing but time to kill, I got to talking politics.
So there you have it, my trail name, Politics.
And who better to learn from with these political discussions than people I disagree with, from all over the world?