After a burst of posts which for the most part reflected on the exhilaration and anxiety of jump-starting a life lived with passion, it’s about time I actually get back to living one. This post is instead a bookmark of sorts, just in case I go off the grid for an extended period of time. I will repeat (ad nauseum) that it is akin to me talking to myself and therefore at best is a manifestation of as-of-yet-undiagnosed-OCD, or at worse a cry-for-help we should’ve spotted sooner. Absolutely joking about the latter, but as for the former? …hmmmm, I’d prefer to describe it as me being organized (okay, extremely organized).
So the dust has settled, or settled enough to at least see signs, intersections, forks and off-ramps approaching as I meander toward the horizon. The latest roller-coaster of hills (mountains) and valleys (bottomless) now seems to be in the rear-view mirror and while I grumble a “good-riddance”, I thank the universe for letting me through without an incurable bout of motion sickness. Accepting that some bridges had to be burned, some potholes had to be filled, and some hitchhikers had to be dropped off, it’s back to running lean, but not mean.
But back to the “taking a break” part. Ironically, after expressing my intent to go off the grid for a bit, I may actually end up posting even more regularly… it’s just that, well, who knows? Certainly not me. And while I endeavor to get out there and live again sans the need to reminisce and opine, there is still a great joy and need for me to write- as opposed to a need to drink heavily.
Coming up in the immediate future? Besides narrowing down my upcoming grad school focus of study (from “The Meaning of Life”), there are dynamics involving family members (in or out?), a re-lay-shon-ship (yay me…er, yay us), sons’ continued growth and life-changing markers (it never ends!), my health (down 20lbs and off of all meds as of 4/12!), an upcoming get-away to the Domincan Republic, the annual great tan (I grew up when the sun was our friend) and reading tons of books (well at least six heavy ones). Then again I should add to the list a big one; writing. I guess that takes me full circle, bringing me right.back.here.
We’ve come a long way.
Please join me in a staring contest with James Taylor (he always wins)….
Moving in silent desperation, keeping an eye on the Holy Land.
A hypothetical destination, say, who is this walking man?
Well, the leaves have come to turning and the goose has gone to fly,
And bridges are for burning, so don’t you let that yearning pass you by.
Walking man, walking man walks.
Any other man stops and talks but the walking man walks.
Well the frost is on the pumpkin and the hay is in the barn.
Pappy’s come to rambling on, stumbling around drunk down on the farm.
And the walking man walks. Doesn’t know nothing at all.
Any other man stops and talks but the walking man walks on by, walk on by.
Most everybody’s got seed to sow. It ain’t always easy for a weed to grow, oh no.
So he don’t hoe the row for no one, for sure he’s always missing,
and something ain’t never quite right.
Ah, but who would want to listen to you kissing his existence good night?
Walking man walk. Walk on by my door. Well, any other man stops and talks
but not the walking man. He’s the walking man, born to walk, walk on walking man.
Well now, would he have wings to fly? Would he be free?
Golden wings against the sky, walking man, walk on by.
So long, walking man.