Good morning, internet,
I realize that blogging on a regular basis could very well serve to edify me as a person and greatly improve my writing in the process. More and more I find myself realizing that my mother was right when she would tell me "the shortest pencil is longer than the longest memory," and considering that I find particular excellent thoughts that I have slipping away into the aether I think having a catalog of my thoughts may let me pick out little gems that I can occasionally find in them.
I haven't really trumpeted this to the winds, but I have started taking regular walks lately. There is a route in my neighborhood that I like where I can walk up a nice, wide, quiet street to the local park, circumnavigate the park, and then walk back. My amazing physical therapist, who did so much to alleviate the pain and disability from the chronic knee and back issues that I've developed since my traumatic ACL tear in '08, has encouraged me to become an avid walker. I can now only espouse him as a miracle worker. Since I started walking the route I have been waking up earlier without pain, walking more and more, leaving the cane behind, and feeling much better and more energetic. But I wouldn't have been able to do it if he and the team at his office hadn't done so much professional work massaging neglected muscle groups, teaching me the ways to carry my body, and convincing me that I could get better (all even after my insurance ran out and I could not pay them).
As I was making the return trip from the park this last Wednesday I came across a hummingbird, flitting effortlessly from bush, to tree, to flower. I had never seen a hummingbird in person before, and certainly didn't think that I would just find one on a pseudo-suburb street in Southeast Portland. It flew up to me and seemed to look me straight in the eyes, before happily circling my head and flying off.
If I weren't a big, strong, manly man who had to show his game face to the world, I probably would have wept ... you know, more than I did anyway. It struck a chord with me that something so beautiful could exist alongside us and not be afraid; that while many things are wrong in the world and in the way humans live in it, some things can and ARE getting better. I don't want to face the possibility of living in a world where that encounter couldn't have taken place, and I hope that we do everything in our power as a species to make sure that everyone alive now can have similar encounters and everyone who comes after us as well.
I realize that blogging on a regular basis could very well serve to edify me as a person and greatly improve my writing in the process. More and more I find myself realizing that my mother was right when she would tell me "the shortest pencil is longer than the longest memory," and considering that I find particular excellent thoughts that I have slipping away into the aether I think having a catalog of my thoughts may let me pick out little gems that I can occasionally find in them.
I haven't really trumpeted this to the winds, but I have started taking regular walks lately. There is a route in my neighborhood that I like where I can walk up a nice, wide, quiet street to the local park, circumnavigate the park, and then walk back. My amazing physical therapist, who did so much to alleviate the pain and disability from the chronic knee and back issues that I've developed since my traumatic ACL tear in '08, has encouraged me to become an avid walker. I can now only espouse him as a miracle worker. Since I started walking the route I have been waking up earlier without pain, walking more and more, leaving the cane behind, and feeling much better and more energetic. But I wouldn't have been able to do it if he and the team at his office hadn't done so much professional work massaging neglected muscle groups, teaching me the ways to carry my body, and convincing me that I could get better (all even after my insurance ran out and I could not pay them).
As I was making the return trip from the park this last Wednesday I came across a hummingbird, flitting effortlessly from bush, to tree, to flower. I had never seen a hummingbird in person before, and certainly didn't think that I would just find one on a pseudo-suburb street in Southeast Portland. It flew up to me and seemed to look me straight in the eyes, before happily circling my head and flying off.
If I weren't a big, strong, manly man who had to show his game face to the world, I probably would have wept ... you know, more than I did anyway. It struck a chord with me that something so beautiful could exist alongside us and not be afraid; that while many things are wrong in the world and in the way humans live in it, some things can and ARE getting better. I don't want to face the possibility of living in a world where that encounter couldn't have taken place, and I hope that we do everything in our power as a species to make sure that everyone alive now can have similar encounters and everyone who comes after us as well.
