WTF is Going On?

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.

Restored Eastern Shore Trail Kiosk

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.

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.

Every Moment is a Unique Act of Creation

I suspect I've touched on this topic in the past, but frankly, I'm just too lazy to go back through the history to try to figure out just how thoroughly it has already been covered.  It actually feels pretty good to have a situation that I'd have to use the search function to find out just how much I've written, but that's a different story for a different day.

The demonstrable fact that every moment (day, year, nanosecond, month, whatever measure of time you decide to use here) is a unique act of creation is important enough to discuss again.  I'll attempt to demonstrate the point with some pictures that are "the same" as the ones I shared with you, dear reader, yesterday.

Capitol Hill Sunrise

I took this picture at about the same time of day of the same building as the one I took and shared yesterday, but even a cursory glance will tell you that these are entirely separate and distinct events.  The perspective is from the opposite corner of the building.  Google Photos has executed the magic of Google processing in a completely different way.  I was in a different space, in different weather, and I had a completely different reaction both taking the photo and seeing the results google delivered.  To be honest, I have more of an affinity for yesterday's photo, but this one is intriguing as well.

Anacostia River Sunset

This picture, taken of the Anacostia River at around sunset yielded similarly completely different results from the one yesterday as well.

One of the things about life that I've discovered while slowing down a little and walking is that, in the past, I would pass what on the surface appeared to be "the same" scene without ever truly appreciating just how different the manifestations of life were moment to moment.  As I became more conscious of the truly spectacular and unique creative processes at work to produce the blink of an eye or a second in time, I began to exercise my desire to observe. 

This level of observation also gave way to the realization that the conventional wisdom on the topic of time that says the past is over and done, the future is a fantasy, grab hold and live in the moment is a much more fulfilling discipline of life to pursue.  Given the habits I've learned, it is a difficult task to remain present.  I find myself mulling over the past, or needlessly worrying about what might or might not happen next week.  If I'm honest with myself, I don't think I've predicted what is going to unfold in the future one single solitary time in my entire life.  I've gotten close on a number of occasions, but even when I did, things would probably have been more enriching if I had allowed myself to be surprised by the reality instead of the less than colorful guess that kind of, not really, mostly came to pass.

In order to to get completely philosophical here, and in order not to be accused of boring you with the same pictures day in and day out, I'll leave you with one final shot that I came across this morning.  Again, on the surface without pondering the meaning too much, this is a photo of some badly done graffiti on the southwest bridge abutment of I-395 where it crosses 4th Street, SE in DC.  Though poorly rendered the words that are written represent what I believe are a heartfelt, funny, and warm expression of love.

Badly rendered graffiti with a heartwarming message of fondness

Molly is an extremely lucky person.  She is loved by someone enough for that feeling of closeness to be rendered in red spray paint, at great risk to the renderer of spending some time in the DC pokey, on a bridge.  The admirer loves deeply, for while I understand a feeling of fondness that outstrips fondness for puppies, sunshine, beer, and even HBO, the placement on a pedestal above the experience that is Eastern Market is truly a wonderful expression of closeness.

Every place and every moment that you find yourself is exactly the place you were meant to be in that instant.