Be here now
Thigh-deep in the sheeat for a variety of reasons today and I’m strangely…
Upbeat.
I see the world for what it is – amazing.
I smile and chat with bank tellers, who ask how I’m doing, how I’m holding up. I share a funny story with the gal at the Post Office. We laugh that the last three people in line all bought one 39-cent stamp each (and waited in line, when they could have just used the vending machine). I smile, because I am happy. Others smile, too. It’s infectious.
I wrote a good column for Sunday, one that tells of adventure, but makes a point. I gave blood, and the nurse thanked me for all the pints I’ve given up over all these years (I hit some sort of milestone today – and they gave me ice cream).
The sun is shining and the weekend looks bright. Mountain biking, hiking, snowshoeing and gathering with friends are all probable (as is a soak at Stewart Mineral Springs, I mean, hey, hot water and a wood-fired sauna?)
“Deep Survival, Who Lives, Who Dies and Why” continues to absorb my thoughts. I finished the book at lunch. I’ll start it again at dinner.
It’s not a road atlas, but it has opened my mind to what my gut already knew – I am a survivor. That I will be OK on the other end of this. I have brought up many past survival feats, big and small, and am amazed at the clarity and purity of the comfort they bring. As my mind closes for sleep, I sigh the sigh of a man going somewhere wonderful.
I’ve begun to take small steps toward that goal. I organize, I plan.
It doesn’t mean everything will go to plan. It’s a divorce, and I have to trek a prickly path with another person wrought with raw emotions too. And maybe hurting. I don’t know, wouldn’t know. Don’t really care, either (infidelity + fear/anger/hurt = Icy focus).
I’ve also begin to retrace my steps to here. Not to kick myself even further, mind you. But to set up mental bookmarks for the future. I am philosophical on why this failed. I’ve got my ideas, she probably has hers.
You only get hear mine here (benefits of Surface Tension).
I was arrogant. I thought I had enough, what self-determination? Will? Fortitude? Essence?, to believe I could save someone. From whatever baggage they brought with them over the course of their life arc.
It worked for years. And then my mom died – and I lost my way for a time. I lost fortitude, will.
And the system failed.
Call it chaos theory or complexity theory, small slides are characteristic of all systems – whether it be death, business strain, strain of issues involving children – that all lead to that one, big catastrophic collapse.
“Large accidents,” Gonzales writes, “while rare, are normal. Efforts to prevent them will always fail.”
But I have not, will not, succumb to resignation. I accept what has happened, yes, but I look on this world with a model of what I want it to eventually look like – not the one I might wish for (although I do a good Walter Mitty with the daydreams).
Here’s what everyone needs to know: Be here now (pay attention and keep an up-to-date mental model).
I am here, now.
Upbeat.
I see the world for what it is – amazing.
I smile and chat with bank tellers, who ask how I’m doing, how I’m holding up. I share a funny story with the gal at the Post Office. We laugh that the last three people in line all bought one 39-cent stamp each (and waited in line, when they could have just used the vending machine). I smile, because I am happy. Others smile, too. It’s infectious.
I wrote a good column for Sunday, one that tells of adventure, but makes a point. I gave blood, and the nurse thanked me for all the pints I’ve given up over all these years (I hit some sort of milestone today – and they gave me ice cream).
The sun is shining and the weekend looks bright. Mountain biking, hiking, snowshoeing and gathering with friends are all probable (as is a soak at Stewart Mineral Springs, I mean, hey, hot water and a wood-fired sauna?)
“Deep Survival, Who Lives, Who Dies and Why” continues to absorb my thoughts. I finished the book at lunch. I’ll start it again at dinner.
It’s not a road atlas, but it has opened my mind to what my gut already knew – I am a survivor. That I will be OK on the other end of this. I have brought up many past survival feats, big and small, and am amazed at the clarity and purity of the comfort they bring. As my mind closes for sleep, I sigh the sigh of a man going somewhere wonderful.
I’ve begun to take small steps toward that goal. I organize, I plan.
It doesn’t mean everything will go to plan. It’s a divorce, and I have to trek a prickly path with another person wrought with raw emotions too. And maybe hurting. I don’t know, wouldn’t know. Don’t really care, either (infidelity + fear/anger/hurt = Icy focus).
I’ve also begin to retrace my steps to here. Not to kick myself even further, mind you. But to set up mental bookmarks for the future. I am philosophical on why this failed. I’ve got my ideas, she probably has hers.
You only get hear mine here (benefits of Surface Tension).
I was arrogant. I thought I had enough, what self-determination? Will? Fortitude? Essence?, to believe I could save someone. From whatever baggage they brought with them over the course of their life arc.
It worked for years. And then my mom died – and I lost my way for a time. I lost fortitude, will.
And the system failed.
Call it chaos theory or complexity theory, small slides are characteristic of all systems – whether it be death, business strain, strain of issues involving children – that all lead to that one, big catastrophic collapse.
“Large accidents,” Gonzales writes, “while rare, are normal. Efforts to prevent them will always fail.”
But I have not, will not, succumb to resignation. I accept what has happened, yes, but I look on this world with a model of what I want it to eventually look like – not the one I might wish for (although I do a good Walter Mitty with the daydreams).
Here’s what everyone needs to know: Be here now (pay attention and keep an up-to-date mental model).
I am here, now.
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