Today was an unsettled day for me. It's not surprising given the fact that I've been on the road since last Thursday, and tomorrow will be a solid week of relatively nomadic existence. Nevertheless, it's a bit disconcerting falling back into old habits that I had thought I gotten under wraps.
One of the reasons that I found the pastime of walking so compelling is that I felt it would force me to take life a little slower. The very nature of the activity would make living in the moment or the surrounding one meter of space easier to accomplish. One of the characteristics of my mental activity before commencing the practice of walking was to imagine what was going to happen far too far into the future. In order to deal with that level of delusion and really fantasy, I was hatching schemes upon schemes in a futile attempt to manage the outcomes of whatever damn fool thing my imagination could invent. That got pretty tiring.
Today, I found myself at various times during the day falling back into that habit of getting to far ahead of myself. On my evening walk, which I really didn't want to do in the first place, I discovered that I did not have my identification on me. I felt pretty certain that I'd had it when I struck out on my nocturnal pedestrianism, but halfway through I knew for sure I didn't have it.
For the next three miles I both retraced my steps and let my imagination roam relatively free about what had happened to my ID, what I was going to have to do next to get a new one, what personal financial risks had been incurred. At the same time, I was searching the ground pretty diligently and imagining that I might know where I'd dropped it. Of course that was about two miles from where I thought I'd discovered it missing. This led to a level of impatience and imagination about how I'd feel if I found it in the location or how I'd cope with the mile remaining back to my rooms if I did not find it. All the while, I was trying to keep my eyes and my mind in the present one meter to make sure I didn't miss the ID just in case I'd dropped it someplace else.
Turns out that it was in my work pants.
All of that anxiety meant nothing except it basically consumed three miles and almost 50 minutes of an activity designed to provide a relief from imagined future anxiety. Crazy really.
It wasn't all undisciplined worrying. I did notice that the Eastern Shore Trail sign that had been knocked over by a car several months ago at the intersection near my hotel had been restored to an upright and repaired position.
This was the very first location that I'd encountered a sign (and the concept) of the Eastern Shore Trail which runs down the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. This sign, or at least one like it in this location, is what prompted me to search for documentation on the trail and has led to some truly rewarding time in this little narrow section of Alabama.
One of the reasons that I found the pastime of walking so compelling is that I felt it would force me to take life a little slower. The very nature of the activity would make living in the moment or the surrounding one meter of space easier to accomplish. One of the characteristics of my mental activity before commencing the practice of walking was to imagine what was going to happen far too far into the future. In order to deal with that level of delusion and really fantasy, I was hatching schemes upon schemes in a futile attempt to manage the outcomes of whatever damn fool thing my imagination could invent. That got pretty tiring.
Today, I found myself at various times during the day falling back into that habit of getting to far ahead of myself. On my evening walk, which I really didn't want to do in the first place, I discovered that I did not have my identification on me. I felt pretty certain that I'd had it when I struck out on my nocturnal pedestrianism, but halfway through I knew for sure I didn't have it.
For the next three miles I both retraced my steps and let my imagination roam relatively free about what had happened to my ID, what I was going to have to do next to get a new one, what personal financial risks had been incurred. At the same time, I was searching the ground pretty diligently and imagining that I might know where I'd dropped it. Of course that was about two miles from where I thought I'd discovered it missing. This led to a level of impatience and imagination about how I'd feel if I found it in the location or how I'd cope with the mile remaining back to my rooms if I did not find it. All the while, I was trying to keep my eyes and my mind in the present one meter to make sure I didn't miss the ID just in case I'd dropped it someplace else.
Turns out that it was in my work pants.
All of that anxiety meant nothing except it basically consumed three miles and almost 50 minutes of an activity designed to provide a relief from imagined future anxiety. Crazy really.
It wasn't all undisciplined worrying. I did notice that the Eastern Shore Trail sign that had been knocked over by a car several months ago at the intersection near my hotel had been restored to an upright and repaired position.
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| Restored Eastern Shore Trail Kiosk |
Seeing this sign restored was like getting one of my guideposts or navigation markers back. It was a waypoint that I'd not appreciated enough until it was damaged and then subsequently brought back into my consciousness by its renewal.
I've had an amazing last year, and this trail because of this sign has played a major role in bringing the fulfillment of the year to fruition.
I should probably take my own advice, heed the rhythm of the walk, meet life as it unfolds and not a moment sooner, and stop fretting over just WTF is going on.
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