Out on a long walk and suddenly the sun’s going down, so I’m opting for the sidewalk route back rather than through the 200 acre field with Coyote warning signs at each end. I mean, I’m not all that attached to life here on the big blue marble, but shredded by Coyotes is not how I’d like to close the chapter.
Sipping coffee and getting my head straight. I just remembered this past week was supposed to have been spent with good friends at a beautiful house on Chesapeake Bay, but I had to pass because I couldn’t afford the plane ticket. Life passing me by. As usual.
So the story of this day begins with needing to get over the frustration of operating so very far below potential. I’m doing everything I can to get un-stuck, to get out of the ditch and live life, but if that’s not working there’s nothing I can do about it and that failure must be put in the same category as the weather – out of my hands. I’ll shift my focus this morning to what CAN be done, starting with adjusting my attitude, and look for some small way to contribute; maybe encourage someone else, or a goal of complimenting three strangers on a choice they made, (“That color looks great on you!”), which changes my radar from dwelling on problems to seeing others and doing something to lift them up.
I often think about what a rare thing it is to know we’ve done something for the last time: a last kiss, a final round of golf, the last time we see someone. Typically that day is banal, with no indication that a shift in life, large or small, will somehow result in our never returning. I recently had an enjoyable and intimate conversation with a dear lifelong friend, and after hanging up I thought, “And that’s probably it. Unlikely we’ll ever speak again.” – at our age, being on different continents and in different places in life.. the smart money is on that call being our last. More often though there’s nothing to suggest finality – the day is like any other and we’re casual in our assumption there will be another.
Twenty-some years ago I’d recently married and was about to leave my home state of Minnesota, and my hunting partner invited me to a day of Woodcock hunting. We’d hunted them many times over the years, and the day was poignant as I was very aware that this was going to be our last time – married and leaving the state I knew life would fill up with new responsibilities, and soon a baby erased any thoughts of a solo trip home and into the twigs. I still think of that day every September.
A lavish and beautifully designed feature on my horse work.
Here’s the link to the online version: https://issuu.com/wynnwood/docs/augsept17/88
Went to IKEA, and in prep for walking the three mile maze decided to have a very leisurely lunch first. Further slowing myself down I made this careful drawing of the aftermath – hardly a visually appealing subject, but the point was to sit quietly, savor the moment, calm my mind.