Future Events

A few days ago a book I am reading asked me to
list five things I want to accomplish in the next
20 years.
Picking it up off the dresser next to my bed last
night, I flipped through the pages and reviewed
the what I had written.
1) Kayak the Puget Sound for a week
2) Learn to rock climb
3) Win Nationals
4) Spend a summer at the beach
5) Take a train across Canada
Not a very imaginative, nor a very exciting list.
No travel to foreign locals, no wild adventure in
the jungles of Borneo, no get together with my
favorite rock star.
No mention of getting a tattoo.
That's a given.
I want my grandchildren to see I lived a life
where I colored outside the lines at least once
in awhile.
That type of thought is on my mind more
and more lately.
Coloring outside the lines.
A return to adolescence?
A return to the question of my teen aged self,
what's it all about Alfie?
Back then the years stretched out in front of me
like the contents of the Milky Way.
Barely visible on a clear night, you knew all
those countless years where ahead of you but
you couldn't fathom the distance involved.
It was spooky.
Now, the view has changed, I've added a few
stars of my own to the galaxy of human experience,
and the night sky beckons with a different call.
It's still spooky, only in a different way.
What do you want your life to be about now?
Same question but without the endless days
and nights to fill, or waste at my discretion.
Bonnie Raitt's song, "Nick Of Time" comes to
mind.
" I see my folks are getting old and I watch
their bodies change, I know they see they same
in me and it makes us both feel strange.
No matter what you tell yourself, it's what we
all go though.
Those lines are pretty hard to take when they're
staring back at you"
Oh yeah Bonnie. You got that right.
I find it funny that I was originally told about that
song many years ago by a friend I hung out with
at the small local airport where I was a glider pilot
and gave rides to strangers on hot summer afternoons.
He was half way to 60, a pilot himself and thinking
about retiring. He was also thinking about the years
that were no longer endless and facing the fact that
life is short, and his was getting shorter.
Don looked fine to me, his face was getting craggy, but
he was active, rode a motorcycle, flew a variety of planes
and was learning to fly a helicopter.
I didn't get his concern.
I was also twenty years younger than he was.
From where I stand now, looking back, I get it.
The press of what was always there.
For all of us, of every age.
Limited time.
One of Don's favorite sayings was, " this isn't a dress
rehearsal"
This is it.
All you get.
Make it good.

Warm Breeze

Relaxing into the evening felt great as I
drove home from work yesterday.
The bank clock read 77 degrees as I passed
by and the smile that was on my face when
I'd punched out of work 15 minutes early and
walked over to my car was still there.
The warm spell is not here to stay, but
we were digging it while it lasted and it effects
showed in generous moods and open windows.
Jackets were tossed aside and shirtsleeves
rolled up.
It was a sweet preview of things to come.
Since I'd stayed after work and filed for my
required weekly 4 hrs Tuesday, I was off the
hook till Saturday and had a free night to myself.
Nice.
Very nice.
Relaxing, satisfying and pleasing..
I could have taken the Litespeed out, but it
started to drizzle and truth is the hand full of
hours I had before bedtime was better spent
just being, not doing.
Tonight is our short, late practice and I am
looking forward to it.

Spring

Is playing with us.
It's that time of year.
Warm for a few days, cold for a few.
It's all good because soon the trees will start
to bud and the grass will turn bright green and
the temps will stay warm and we will all bust
out of winter and into the vibrancy and
joy of summer!
Skating outdoors, cycling, flowers, fresh air coming
through open windows...
Ahhhh....

Body Art

It's a common sight to see full sleeves of ink
peeking out from the cuffs of a mans shirt,
or from under the shoulder strap of a woman's
summer top.
Tats come in every shape and size. Black and
white, and in each and every color combination.
The bright primary colors of Crayolas, the
elegant tones of a Japanese woodcut.
Blending style or lack of, with an array of meaning,
just like the people who own them, they are
unique.
And own them they do because unlike a bad
hair cut, ink doesn't grow out.
Once you have it, it's yours for life.
So I've been spending much of my time lately
delving into the process of getting inked.
And the deeper I travel inward the further I
move away I from the simplistic choices I
started out with.
"A living canvas", were the words my friend
used when I showed him the back work on
various men and women I'd printed off the
Internet.
Yes, women too.
And a stunning mix of ink and and human
form it was.
Beautiful colors and curves..
Like paintings in the National Art Gallery.
Yet these don't hang on a cold wall, they move
and pulsate with life..live and breathe..people
walking beside us everyday wrapped, silk like,
in shapes and stories.
Covered in work day clothes, we don't know
them to see them.. hidden art, rare art.
I am overwhelmed with the possibilities..

Review

I'm tried.
I'm doing too much.
I'm not very happy.
Time to get off the bus.
Time to walk, not run.
Time to slow things down..

Running Late

I'm late.
For being on time.
A creature of ingrained habits, I'm running behind schedule
this year.
The air currants are whispering "spring!", and the scent has
just now reached my nostrils.
And it's trouble in paradise.
My passion for skating has died out, just as the flowers along
side my house have awakened from their winter rest and are
beginning to poke their heads out of the defrosting ground.
Hand in hand, one follows the other every year.
My entire being rebels against going inside a stuffy, smelly
rink during daylight hours when I could be outside starting
to work in my flowers beds or be on my bike cruising
country roads.
What's totally acceptable in the dark winter months, doesn't
wash in spring.
Unlike previous years, where I dumped indoor practice for
outdoor, I have made commitments to teammates for
Nationals in 4 months, and don't have the luxury of heeding
the call of the wild.
Yikes..
The moment I walked in the door of the rink last night for
practice I was battling, "should I stay or should I go?".
Hanging on I made it through dryland, warm up in the
opposite direction and the first minute or two a regular
paceline routine of five laps each.
The first leader seemed to be going around and around
and around forever, and I wondered if he was counting.
( aren't you done yet?, let's move on guy..)
But the straw that tipped me out the door was the skater
behind me constantly using my back to "firmly" control
his speed even at the slow pace we were going. I wanted
to turn around and slug him.
Or bite his head off and spit it out..
Not a good sign.
Not good at all.
I was cranky, and spoiling for a fight...
Do I have an excuse?
Well, I've been worn out since Roanoke, plus I started
working longer hours on the job, and I picked up lifting
twice a week, and I feel a pressure to preform that
I never have before.
Wah, wah, wah...
With faster skaters pointing out areas where I can improve,
in the state of mind I've been in I want to share my thoughts
on their skating right back at them.
And it's not all pretty..
Like..
So, why, when we're not "supposed" to be taking strokes on
the long side, you do it all the time?
Is that how you keep your speed up?
Maybe if you did it like you were supposed to, like the coach
has told us to do it, over and over, you wouldn't have been
out ahead of me during that last drill, the one you later had
a helpful pointer to share with me about my skating and how
I could improve.
"Kiss my grits!"
See where this is going?
I've become a crank, a judgemental crank.
Trying to keep up with people 20yrs my junior, and other
ones that are bigger, or all the ones who are simply better.
And once you get faster, everyone expects you to go even
faster.
If you pass one person they want you to pass everybody.
And if you don't do either of the above, well, your not
trying hard enough.
OK.
I need to re-group, re-access, reform...

Tribal Affairs

We all belong to a tribe or two.
Or three.
Our work tribe, our social tribe, our family tribe.
A culture tribe, a sport tribe.
Some have known, and some, unspoken, rules.
For instance.
You don't go to work in your pajamas.
You don't cut in line.
You don't pick your nose in public.
Ladies first. (well that's dying off..)
Play far.
Other rules are more subtle.
At my stage in life, I'm used to moving out
of one tribe and into the next smoothly, but
lately I've been thrown off a lot.
Lately, I'm reminded of of my first year in High
School when I didn't know the ins and outs, or
how to get to my classes.
Forget having a clue about the social scene..
I looked up to the Jr's and Sr's for clues.
They seemed so with it.
They seemed to have the bead on cool.
I wanted what they had.
In retrospect, it's not what I wanted at all.
It's like that now.
People got stuff I don't.
I look on and my mind says,
"I want some too"
It's not what my heart says..
It knows that the beat I dance to moves me,
but not the masses..