The Weather is a Fickle Mistress

The groundhog lied. No spring for you...come back, 1 month.  Those are a couple of the memes making their way around Facebook today regarding the weather in Northern Virginia, Maryland, and the greater DC area.

I like to think of it as the weather being a fickle mistress.  In the space of one four mile walk, the weather went from partly sunny and a breezy but tolerable cool that looked like this:

Severn River Sky

Less than one hour later the storm clouds were rolling in giving a sky that looked like the view above to the south and an ominous front to the north.  This is a pretty good view of both extremes. Look at the mirror and then the sky behind it.

The Weather is a Fickle Mistress

I got rid of my quota of stuff today. I got in the required walking. I mostly avoided the slushy snow. I'm a little bit grouchy, and it's because I'm not getting the backing from folks that I think should offer more support than they seem to be willing to give. Fundamentally, the problem is with my unrealistic expectations. I really should put those to bed.

As always, I'm both curious and eager to see what lessons tomorrow will bring.

Incremental Changes Make Big Differences

The practice of divesting myself of unneeded stuff is having and impact already. Two books today. A week ago, I had no desire to get rid of these books, but today they are gone. Not only are they gone, but I've been left with a handful of memories and a new place to attempt to offload some others.

Given the reluctance with which I gave up David and Goliath, it seemed appropriate to stick with a theme and offload Outliers and Blink. I hope to write half as well as Gladwell right now, and I felt a pang of uncertainty moving on from these books because of their inspirational value. I embraced all three books, and they became a small part of my identity. Giving up a piece of oneself feels awkward.

Separating from them needed the right venue. A quick search, and I identified one.

Little Free Library - East Capitol Street - Washington, DC

I really like the concept of Little Free Library. The first crossed paths with these tiny places to exchange books in Fairhope, AL. The gist of the gig is that you take a book and leave a book. So far drop-offs comprise my interaction, but the idea resonates. The uncertainty of "not knowing" what might present itself for your reading enjoyment puts a bit of pizzaz back in a way of life in this country that takes on an air of mundane predictability with every passing day. These kiosks of surprise represent a connection with fate that I reach out and access at a time of my choosing. Today, this little beacon of chanciness got a couple of books that speak to me and I hope speak to someone else as well.

Minimizing - Day 2

The act of dropping these books took me to a new area for walking. I did not expect that benefit from the early steps toward minimalism. I gained a new four mile loop. It's not more than a long stone's throw from where I walked in the past, but that distance opened up new vistas that I look forward to experiencing. A used bookstore along the route advertises that they buy books. I've got some to sell them, or give them away if they'll take them.

Today reemphasized the big changes that can come from incremental changes. The anticipation of letting two books go filled my day with the good kind of anticipation. The new route a short distance from my old standby reinvigorated my sense of curiosity. The positive benefits of both results energize my hope of more to come as I move away from the things that tie me to an anchor in my past.

I always look forward to what's around the corner, but tonight the imaginations seem a bit more colorful. The hopes just a tad more real. The excitement just a bit more prickly. Till then...

A Newish Direction Down the Trail

Starting down a path toward minimalism is not quite where I imagined I'd wind up as a result of the practice of walking. Everything that Remains continues to challenge me in ways that I knew that it would and ways that I had not imagined. Today was the second day of a renewed attempt at the 30 Day Minimalist Game. The idea of the game is that for 30 days you get rid of items from the house.  Day 1 you get rid of one item, day 2 is two items, day 3 is three items, all the way up to day 30 with thirty items. If I make it the full thirty days, I will have gotten rid of 465 items total. Yesterday, I started with the book at the airport. Today, I identified two other books by me beloved author Malcolm Gladwell.

Like the Dandelion Reaching Skyward from the
Crack in the Asphalt - We Persist

Three down...four hundred and sixty two to go. The last time I attempted this game, I got to about day eight or nine by divesting myself of books. At that point, I knew what I had to do, so I skipped the process and cleared out my bookshelf keeping only the very most "essential" books. Since I lept ahead, I rationalized that I could take a break and resume the process a few days down the road. I never picked up again. The books that I'm letting go now made the cut of "essential" books last time.

There is a lesson or two here for me. First, the process is the process because the daily discipline of deciding to lighten my load is the really valuable part of the game.  By leaping ahead, I burned out too quickly and let myself off the hook too easily. That's alright. Life is about progress, not perfection, and this time I will follow the suggested path as it has been laid out by folks who have ultimately found a measure of success in the practice of minimalism. I'm drawn to the idea of minimalism because I want what I perceive these people have "achieved." I should probably be willing to take their suggestions (without shortcuts) on how to get it.

Second, one of the reasons that the Gladwell books were saved the last time is because I allowed the material possession of the books themselves to become part of my identity. I was not successful then, and over the last two days, I've found it difficult to part with things that I've come to use (in part) to identify myself. It is both uncomfortable to let go of the things and the part of my identity that I perceive they represent, and it's difficult to realize the trap that I've fallen into where I've allowed the things to be substituted for a truer realization of my personality or essence. The ego is an amazing thing because though other aspects of my practice, I can identify the fingerprints of my ego in this level of discomfort.

I don't know what's going to happen this time with the experiment, but I do know I'm better prepared to carry it out than I was several months ago. I'm grateful for my sister's foresight in giving me a book that so clearly pointed in a direction that I believe I need to take. Tomorrow will be, and I have faith it will be good.

Confronting Change

The truth of the matter is that no matter how hard we might try, avoiding change is impossible. The seemingly never ending stream of unique sunrises and sunsets, often of the same general geographic area, that I bombard my audience of almost no readers with every day should act as a testament to the fact that every month we endure, every week we put in the record books, every day that we face, and every moment that we live is a unique creative event.

Sunrise - Daphne, AL

Our brains seem to be wired to gloss over these vast differences and constant churn of ever changing events by finding patterns that give us comfort in the illusion of habit and stability, but the fact of the matter is that sense of stability is a fiction of our own making.

I got a book for Christmas last year titled Everything that Remains by Joshua Fields Millburn (with interruptions by Ryan Nicodemus) that I've been putting off reading since the moment I unwrapped it. The subtitles is "A Memoir by The Minimalists," and I put off reading the book because I was fairly certain that the story that they lay out regarding the value of minimalism would hit too close to home for comfort.

I was not wrong in that assumption.

Even though change is constant, and its definitively observable in the spectacular differences that I seem to be less and less able to dismiss at a whim, deliberate change is more difficult for me. The challenge for me is to heed the call that I've been building toward for more than a year now. My walking has been part of that path toward a less consumer driven existence. I first started the practice because I could not get the thought of how good it would be to slow down a little and live in each moment a little more out of my head.

The walking was a mechanism to address a sense of grown unsettledness in my life. Walking was the mechanism by which I literally took the first steps that have led me to this point.

Clouds - The Manifestation of Change - Mobile, AL

It is a point where my discomfort with maintaining the status quo has been balanced with my discomfort in pursuing a more deliberate path. The scaling back of materialism is something that I know in the very pit of my stomach that I'm going to have to try. At the same time, it was painfully difficult to leave the hardcover of David and Goliath by Malcolm Gladwell laying on a chair in the passenger terminal at BWI Airport after I finished reading it on my flight in to Charlotte, NC today. I wanted to save the book because it had impacted the way I viewed the world, but I know that I was unlikely to ever read it again.

The desire to keep a piece of that experience near me by keeping the book led me to carry it another 800 miles from where I'd finished receiving the benefit of reading the words.

If you want a copy of the book, I left it laying on a chair in the airport where it might change the way someone else views the world. I did what I knew was right but still felt like a difficult thing to complete. It felt good walking away from the book. Much better than walking up to the chair to set it down.

With the release of the book, I took another step on a journey where the path seems to be finding me. It's a different experience, and I look forward to seeing what road rises up to meet me tomorrow.

Wrapping Things Up in the South, Evicted from Alabama

Today marks the last full day I'll spend on the Gulf Coast this trip. It's been a pretty good run, and it's time to wrap it up. I saw the first alligator of the season yesterday, and this evening Rory Conlan spotted the first copperhead of his own spring training season. The cherry blossoms have come and gone, the pollen is waning, and the trees down here are fully leafed. I even managed to catch the sun setting behind the Mobile skyline.

Last Evening in Mobile...Till the Next Go Around

I'm grateful for the sunsets I've seen, the miles I've covered, the opportunity to "work the problems," and the laughter of friends. It is hard to imagine that my regular sojourns down to this part of the world are wrapping up. It's been quite a run for a six month temporary assignment that's managed to stretch to eighteen months running. It just goes to show that you can never tell what will be revealed around the corner tomorrow, but you shouldn't worry about it to very much. It's going to be spectacular.

Return of the Alligators

Leaving work a little later than I'd hoped today led to a bit of a rush to get down to the sunset spot along my evening walk that I'd chosen to witness the passing of another day. As these things often do, it worked out for the best because a bit of jogging was required to get into place in a timely manner. This put some stress on the foot, and as far as I can tell, that fifth metatarsal help up under the strain. The view that awaited at the bottom of the top of the hill that I climbed to get there was worth it.

Sunset from Under I-10 - Daphne, AL

This was the view I was "rushing" to see, but just a little farther down the trail, I came upon this one.

Sunset on the Bayou - Daphne, AL

The bayou in this case is the languid outlet of D'Olive Creek in Daphne, AL, and this area has consistently yielded spectacular pictures. Even on breezy days, the wetland that D'Olive Creek meanders through on its path into Mobile Bay is sheltered from all but the most blustery of wind. The combination of marshland, the highway, calm water, and an exception view of the sky bring a serenity and warmth to the passing of the day.

I walked on down the trail, and encountered my first alligator of the season. Floating along down the middle of the creek with an air of indifference, it was like I'd come home to find and old friend waiting to catch up on what had happened over the cold season. The 'gator was a sign that the dark ages of winter were quickly receding in the rearview mirror, and the tropical heat of the Alabama summer was just around the corner. 

The 'gator was a good benchmark on the passage of time, and a symbol of optimism for what the universe may deliver tomorrow. As is my habit, I'm looking forward to seeing whatever may be brought my way.

Sunrise to Sunset - Sunday Travel

Getting up this morning at 0430 was a bit of a challenge. The power had gone out sometime during the evening. I can only surmise that the howling wind that had lulled me to sleep had played some role in limiting the flow of electrons. I'd prepared the evening before, so getting out the door came off without too much trouble. A quick hop, skip, and a jump down to the airport, and I found myself on the Airbus 320 that was headed to Charlotte. On the way down the taxiway, the sun peaked up over the horizon.

Sunrise Reflecting in the Terminal Windows - BWI

The early morning flights on Sunday are comfortable. I heard the flight attendant say that we had about on hundred and twenty people on a plane designed to haul one hundred and eighty. I had the entire starboard side of exit row ten to myself.

Sunrise at BWI - Turning for the Takeoff Roll

The engines spun up, the hydraulic pumps whined, and we lept up to thirty thousand feet in the blink of an eye. Five miles above the earth, and the buffeting wind was barely a whispering backdrop. The clouds flashed pink, and I took a quick catnap to catch some of the Z's that I'd left back at home.

Clipping South, Five Miles above the Earth

I put in some time at work when I got to Alabama, but I left early enough to make the trek (via car) down to Fairhope for the evening walk.  This was the starting point for the two day stretch when Rory and I covered a little over fifty four miles, and it was good to be back. It was also good to be back in April when the temperature was in the high sixties. Last July, I assure you, the air was quite a bit hotter, quite a bit wetter, and heavier. It sat on you like a damp, boiling elephant.

The reason for the trek down to Fairhope was hope that I could catch a picture of the sun setting behind a marble dolphin statue in a city park on the shore of Mobile Bay. I wasn't even sure if the statue was oriented in a way that would work for the shot I had in mind, but opportunities like this don't come along very often so I thought I would give chance a try. I was not disappointed.

Dolphins at Sunset - Fairhope, AL

With the cool breeze wafting in from Mobile Bay, I cannot think of a better way to wrap up a Sunday. I first saw this statue over a year ago, and I've been planning to try to get this shot since it first crossed my path. It was the perfect way to end a Sunday, except that it wasn't the end.

On the way out to complete this goal that's been in the works for a year, I passed another statue that I don't remember seeing before. The really interesting thing is that I'm almost certain that it's not a new installation. I've been past this spot probably ten or fifteen times, and I've never noticed the seahorse. I jogged back, and this is what I saw when I got back to the starting point of the walk.

Seahorse at Sunset - Fairhope, AL

The sun had set, but the seahorse stood in sharp contrast to the gathering dusk. What a glorious Sunday, and it left me with the gift of another goal. I have a feeling that I'll be stalking the sunset behind the seahorse sometime going forward. I hope it doesn't take a year this time, but I know that the chase, however long it may be, will be worth it. Sunrise, Sunset, and Sunday. I'm not sure it can get any better than this, though I remain hopeful. Tomorrow is a new day, and I can't wait to see what the universe delivers to experience.