hiking without happy meals; a modern paradigm chronicling the struggles, pitfalls,
& successes of life, running, writing, urban farming,
& home schooling in these crazy modern days.
Life is our classroom.
So where were we? Oh-yeah jumping in the lake. Well, I didn't go to the lake on Sunday. Colby, his Dad, & the Boy went will all the kids & extras too.
I sat home & thought. I went running & thought. I tended to a slightly lethargic puppy (who is down right sick today) & thought. And went running again: thinking.
Life works itself out on the trail. You go out & you come back. There is no need for tears when you can sweat. The questions roll off behind you & the answers fall open at your feet before you.
I came home limping with bleeding & bruised toes. I threw away my new running shoes. I've tried to make them work for me but the don't; they are not my shoes so I need to stop standing in them.
And what I didn't figure out on my own, like all good teaching moments it was a child who showed me the rest of the answer.
How do you get over an obstacle you can't go around?
How do you get out of a hole you can't climb out of?
How do you bridge a divide you can't step?
Yes. YOU JUMP.
It is as easy as falling.
Let go with your feet, pretend for a moment you can fly, & trust you will land safely.
Life is a series of moments. Those moments are miniature novels. Each one complete with a cast of characters, a plot, & a resolution. Each one seemingly unrelated to the next. That is of course unless you are the author. Some moments could use a good editor while others need to be seen in black & white simply as they were created.
I always find what I am looking for but I'm not always looking at it the from the right direction. In theory life is very sweet. And in actuality it is very fragile but it does not belong on a shelf.
Who said I needed a week to work this out? Yeah. Well, you really shouldn't believe everything I write after all I am a blogger hanging on a moment.
My first column in the West View comes out this week. By Friday night the sky above Antelope Island will be filled with kites & when night falls fireworks will explode high over the sandy beaches. August will be gone by then, it is already slipping away.
And if jumping doesn't work I suppose I will just have to learn to roll.
A small thanks to the Boy (who doesn't read my blog) thanks for the great photos. Sorry no one told you I wouldn't be there.
“It is fine to say, ‘time will heal everything, this too shall pass away. People will forget.’ And things like that when you are not involved” Steinbeck, Cannery Row