The grass where I live is hard and it is like fake carpet on the soil. It has much give but being hard to touch with the soles of your feet, make it unpleasant to walk on without shoes. I know that grass always looks greener on the other side but in this case, the grass IS softer in the northern part due to the better soil and abundant rain. So the next best thing here would be to get a hammock. I don't have the money now but will post a "wanted" ad on Craigslist. I think the hammock will provide a serene place to look at the grass and appreciate it better by not feeling it. Sometimes it is what we see and not what we experience that makes the view better than it is.
It feels right when I'm up there on that mountain. It's not mine, but I feel like it is. Grandpa's A frame was on the top of the mountain. And he was a gas station attendant while Grandma was an RN. They worked the old-fashioned way, with sweat. I know that if I wanted to live up on that mountain I'm going to have to work that way too. I'm ready. I know I can achieve it if all the conditions are right. Including the most important part of being in God's plan.
And after the six days of sweat, I'll also follow God's plan and rest in a hammock above the grass. Then roll over and finish the nap ON the grass...the green, green, soft grass.
There are so many hammocks to catch you if you fall, so many laws to keep you from experience. All these cities I have been in the last few weeks make me fully understand the cozy, stifling state in which most people pass through life. I don't want to pass through life like a smooth plane ride. All you do is get to breathe and copulate and finally die. I don't want to go with the smooth skin and the calm brow. I hope I end up a blithering idiot cursing the sun - hallucinating, screaming, giving obscene and inane lectures on street corners and public parks. People will walk by and say, "Look at that drooling idiot. What a basket case." I will turn and say to them "It is you who are the basket case. For every moment you hated your job, cursed your wife and sold yourself to a dream that you didn't even conceive. For the times your soul screamed yes and you said no. For all of that. For your self-torture, I see the glowing eyes of the sun! The air talks to me! I am at all times!" And maybe, the passers by will drop a coin into my cup. ~Henry Rollins