Depthofmyyouth

Tag: Western

  • Move Along

    Move Along

    Every so often I’ll get an itch to move along. To uproot myself from where I’m grounded and venture off to some new place. I believe this is a symptom and not the result of wanderlust. More anxiety ridden then thrill seeking. But the destination doesn’t change the feelings or concerns that drove me to want to change in the first place. How can I reconcile this? Do I just keep moving until I finally stop? Or can I learn to put things more into my control?

    It starts with habits, the good kind, but habits are hard to adopt and change. So we start small. Like real small. 2-3 min here and there goes a long way. This is where I’m at now and while I’m grateful I’ve made the progress I have it’s hard to imagine a future that doesn’t mimic my present. But all I can do is keep plucking away being bad at it till I’m not.

    Facing the Pain, Not Outrunning It.

    You can only mask the pain, no matter where you move to its still there in the end. So what can you do? You can sit with it, try to change it, eat it or live with it. As a proponent of change I think this approach is the one I would take. But you can’t just bull rush pain and hope to move that boulder. It takes a precision instrument and time to chip away at. As I’ve never tried being a sculpturer before I’ll let you know how I make out as I go.

    Maybe the urge to move along isn’t about the place I’m leaving, but the parts of myself I haven’t yet figured out how to stay with.

  • Do Good Guys Still Win?

    My grandfather loves old western shows and movies. Over the last few years, I’ve sat with him countless times while they played on his television. I’ve never fully understood the draw — most of them follow the same structure with little variation.

    The good guy is honest, true, and virtuous. The bad guy? Underhanded, sneaky, and greedy. The story usually begins with someone being wronged — a robbery, a betrayal, a town in trouble. Then our hero steps in, unravels the villain’s plot, gets into a bar fight or a shootout, narrowly escapes death, and inevitably saves the day. Corny jokes are exchanged, and before you know it, the next episode starts.

    And yet, I’ve grown to enjoy these old shows.

    Maybe it’s because I once saw the world in the same way — where good always triumphs, where truth wins out, and justice shows up right on time. That belief was probably shaped early on: by family, by faith, by the stories I was told through culture and media. Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe I just associate westerns with my grandpa — the quiet comfort of sitting beside him, sharing something familiar.

    But I think there’s more to it. There’s a certain innocence about these stories that feels rare now. A kind of moral clarity that doesn’t often exist in real life. Maybe that’s what makes them special.

    Maybe the real appeal isn’t the story itself, but the world it offers — one where right and wrong are clear, where justice arrives on time, and the good guys still ride off into the sunset. I’m not sure I believe the good side always wins anymore, but there’s still something comforting about watching them try. And even if I don’t care much for the plot, I’ll keep showing up — for the quiet moments, the familiar music, and the time spent beside someone I love.