For As Long As You Can

I was looking at my supply of insights, deciding which one I’d post for tomorrow.  If I don’t do that then writing on the day of delivery takes most of the day and I’ve other things I must accomplish during today’s waking hours.

    We’re getting ready to sell my Harley Davidson. Yes, someone called and we’ve arranged to meet at a local gas station.  I bought BB (Blue Blaze) a sweet Roaster 1200cx going on ten years ago.  I was flush with money at the time as a fellow soldier was in a bind for cash; one of those unintentional trades:  he really didn’t want to part with it, and I really didn’t need it but it seemed like a good idea at the time for us both. 

   I’ve enjoyed having the bike and I drove it well enough, but the time of different had arrived; I have no wish to give my new bride cause to worry.  She doesn’t complain about my riding, but I can hear dread in her voice as she lingers at the door whenever I decide to go for a spin: It began to wrench my heart.  Perhaps this part of the tale set me up to observe an otherwise invisible overarching theme; the sale interconnected to a previous experience I happen to notice just the other day. 

    Kids were in a playground being kids. I noticed how they throw themselves into everything they do.  Boys don’t just ‘go over’ to cluster of other boys playing in the dirt, oh no, they run and slide into the pocket of giggling heads.  I had to laugh, and it struck me that was how we did things when I was a kid too. We laughed a lot; at everything and anything.  Just the other day I saw something funny in a movie and it really made me laugh hard.  So hard that I felt it was foreign to me.  I finally composed myself after the outburst, brushing away the tears and all. But the oddest thing was that I couldn’t laugh enough to get it out.  I mean, for a few moments there I thought I was going to actually vomit.  The sad thing was, I wasn’t surprised at this since I had recognized the effect.  When did I become comfortable with feeling it was ok to accept I couldn’t laugh totally without getting sick? 

   I guess in the same vein of walking with a limp, it just sort of all of a sudden seemed like I always had.  I know whenever my doctor asks me how long have I been feeling a certain way, I get a bit annoyed;  I don’t keep record of those kinds of things, so I’ve no idea.  Maybe I should?

As for laughing out loud and as hard as I could I don’t remember when that eased-back.  I’d venture a guess that when I took on the responsibility of making a living and thinking it was, in fact, important.  There were those decades when I lived a bohemian lifestyle.  Where living room décor was an assortment of bookcases of cinderblocks and raw wood planks; where the kitchen table was a spent industrial wire spindle with a company logo burned into its ends.  I didn’t care about rug burns from my friend’s cigarettes because the rug had already war wounds from the occupants before me.  I had roommates who were not friends; I had them to afford the place. So laying down any kind of rules about cleanliness was akin to telling kids they laugh too loud during recess.  Yeah, things shifted without a lot of fanfare; as did the small crowd of friends I hung around.  It was like a renowned author once commented on people and gravity.  He said we were all on an invisible journey towards those who shared the same frequency of attitude about the world.  Much like the power of magnetism; 

we’d drift towards our individual poles like iron shavings sought out magnets.  Just turns out you realize that one day you’re being careful not to ruin the things you purchased, and you’re less likely to let loose with a belly laugh.  It’s no value system I’m talking about, you just sort of ease into it the way I mentioned the limp.  Only when you see or hear the contrast do you remember being there once, a long time ago. 

  I guess I’m in this mood because soon enough that bike will no longer be sitting in the garage waiting to whisk me away.  Once I don’t see it, I’ll eventually learn not to miss it.  Until of course I see someone on bike breeze by me.  Just like those kids in the playground lost in their enjoyment.  I traded that in for something else, and what that is, right now, I couldn’t tell you.  But I know this much, when I have that sense of limitless thrill, when it arrives again unannounced, I’m going to hold on to it for as long as can.  

And force it to break free from me with a kiss so I get to say good-bye passionately.

Half Way There

Today marks my 183rd posting. 

I started this blog on the 3^rd of June, this year. I had made a personal commitment to do a post every day for a year, even when I knew it’d be difficult to keep up with a daily routine, I still wanted to make it significant in an effort sort of way. Since then over eighty thousand words have been used by me to express thoughts and feelings with being in this world. I was thinking on the personal promise; after which I’ve no clear goal.  So the idea of reaching the half way mark spurred up other occasions from my past; mostly with running distances.  In the Army we were required to take a physical fitness test two times a year. Part of that test included a two mile run.  The track was well marked so we could pace our progress to obtain the very best time that would then be translated into points and those points accumulated in order to assess if we would ‘pass’ the test or be assigned additional instructions (after hour physical training).  When I was younger I would laugh at the necessity of testing so often; I felt it was a waste of everybody’s time.  As I grew older I learned the wisdom in keeping the older sedentary solders oriented to the continued importance of their fitness.  If there wasn’t a test they’d postpone the necessity for exercise for other pressing demands. 

   OK, so that’s swell for a career in the military, but how is that useful now? Because of the practice of reaching the half-way mark.  It serves as a measure of accomplishment; where the hardest part was now behind us, we were on the homeward journey.  Over and over this manner of evaluating progress proved useful when I was struggling with a demanding long investment of effort.  Half way there meant that I could tap my reserves since I was over the major milestone towards my goal.

Recently I’ve observed another aspect of the race, and that would be the nature of obstacles.  When I was younger it was common to quit at the first sign of resistance against my progress.  I’d change course, or just change goals, but I wasn’t seasoned in the way of effort to notice that failure served a great motivator as well as opportunity.  I’d not waste time reciting all the examples we have of people overcoming adversity to become more than what they were before the affliction.  The one that comes to mind is Christopher Reeve, an actor best known for his role as  Superman.  

His career was glimmering as he was in demand for many films.  One weekend while out horseback riding, a fall changed all that.  He was paralyzed from the neck down.  I was never a great fan of his acting but I became a fan of Christopher Reeve who, from that debilitating accident, became the flesh and blood spokes person for all handicapped people in America.  He became the light of hope, the spirit of positive attitude, the living example of victory over adversity.  

What would have become of Chris if he had given up after the accident?  He had enough money accumulated he could have spent his remaining days staring out at the sunset into the Pacific Ocean without a care in the world…beyond perhaps a hovering pall of feeling useless.  But he didn’t choose that and instead rallied to take on life for the next round; just as so many maimed and horrifically disfigured warriors do from war.  I am humbled by that spirit of living well.  And in reading about the struggle, the dark moments of self pity and surrender to limiting obstacles there remained one quintessential truth in all of these heroic efforts. 

They accepted life on the terms it was presented to them. They took stock and cherished the opportunity to keep on fighting.  In those times of self doubt and seemingly insurmountable odds the story tells out pretty much the same way.  They recognized that in their struggle to prevail…they were only half way there.

Holiday from Ordinary

We have a monthly calendar on the refrigerator door.  It’s made of white board material so we can make changes when a new month arrives. It’s kind of cool to see how busy we have been over the month.  For instance, I see we’re already a week past Thanksgiving.  It doesn’t seem like that it’s been a whole week already, but on the other hand I would venture to guess it had been a long time ago.  Funny how time can take on that quality at the same time; almost like water. 

   One of my wife’s quests of recent is to economize household expenses.  That effort entails reviewing all of our service contracts to see if we can get them at a lower cost, or decide if we are not using them, to cancel them outright. She is exceptionally determined in this pursuit, as I applaud her DNA for that predisposition.  Now sometimes, I’ll admit, I get glassy-eyed when she’s telling me about all the variables she’s juggling in her comparison process.  Guys will know what I’m talking about if they have ever had the distinct pleasure of being dragged out to find living room drapes.  An astute woman will know exactly when she has won her argument by that easy to discern vacant-and-nobody-is-home look on her guys face.  We don’t come right out and say “I don’t care” because first of all, we love what they are doing for us, and honor that sort of dedication.  Secondly, and more to the bedrock truth of it, we don’t want to do relationship damage control if it can be avoided:  Some call that taking the easy way out, others would venture to call it wimping out.  But for those who claim the latter I believe have not been indoctrinated to the joys of living room drape selections; the choices are ponderable and without distinctive qualities to defend. If you do happen to ‘like’ a possible choice; my favorite reply to why I make the choice I do is this:

   “I don’t know, because I think you’ll agree and then we can go home?”

   So this time the topic was cable (slash) Internet provider.  Most folks I know are bundled, so, when you decide to hop from, say, COMCAST to DIRECT TV, you are not just talking about entertainment venues.  You are addressing the differences in phone service, Internet service, and most of all, the delicate configuration of your computer, router, and Wifi to the current settings.  If you change, then all of those painstaking efforts to make-the-stuff-work-the-way-you-want are in jeopardy; I am, therefore, resistant to change.  I am spurred to consideration if there is a fifty per cent savings; then I’d say it hit the threshold of willingness to consider.

   As we weighed the attractive features alongside the value, something Montse said stuck a nerve so profoundly I had to dedicate today’s posting to it.  And that was: “Change gets us out of our comfort.”  Now she may not have used those exact words (she’ll tell me when she reads this what the actual phrase was, but work with me now.). Her observation was so right-on that any rational appeal I was gathering in order to resist facing the possibility of losing my network access, or having to once-again pull out the documentation on the Wifi in order to configure it to a new carrier, were all swept away. 

   Life IS change: I rant on about it to anyone within earshot and who, out of social grace, don’t start running in the other direction when they spot me coming.  I can be worse than a pregnant woman talking about babies when it comes to the topic of change.  Yes it’s our friend, yes it’s the only true law of our physical existence, yes avoiding it is futile. But an aspect I’ve totally let slip by me was that it not only challenges our comfort, it breaks it up faster than a High School teacher disperses a gaggle of gossiping girls in the hallway during class break. 

   Boom, the way it used to be is gone; darn, and to do it on purpose?  Yeah, yeah I invite it for the sheer exhilaration of the unknown in my midst. Will there be chaos and mayhem should we choose another service? 

Bring it on. 

   What about familiarity with surfing the current program provider? 

I’ll learn different. 

   For every worry, there is a positive response; and that is the very essences all of us need to live.  RESPONSE and ADAPT; not reaction to keep things as they are.  What a beautiful opportunity to wake up to the real.

  End of this tale is that we did make the switch and we had a blast examining how to master the changes while learning new ways of adjusting to different methods to get where we wanted.  It was a holiday from ordinary.  Any time you can get the chance to do that, I strongly recommend a healthy dose of it. If only for the thrill that change makes you feel……dare.