And: Here We Go Again

And: Here We Go Again

Any dedicated visitor to this space will know that I am an inconsistent blog-writer. There are many reasons for my recent several-month lapse of posts, most of which can be explained by the World Cup and the wonderful summer that’s descended upon Seattle. The former drove me indoors to bars where I got slobby drinking beer and eating french-fries; but hey, it only happens once every four years, and really—what a World Cup! The latter, this summer that has swathed us soft and comforting as a child’s terry-cloth cape (and, like any child in love with a piece of fantastical clothing that permits magical transformations, I wear it constantly), has forced me outdoors, for who can sit inside before a computer when it’s 85-degrees and sunny out?

There’s also the reality that I’ve been working way too much for other people, and when I’ve had free-time I’ve been too tired/haven’t wanted to write. This attitude will wear itself out, and soon, much like the summer weather we’re experiencing; there are needful obligations tugging my insides every time I slow enough to listen. But for a while, and sometimes, a break is alright

I did recently receive a complaining text from a devoted fan of this space strongly suggesting I get back in the proverbial saddle. I imagine this is the mounting-up portion in response to her request. Little will be said, but I suppose that is simply par for this course. More thoughts will come, later, or they won’t. I suspect the latter is a possibility one doesn’t like to spend too much time considering.

I was awake the other morning for the sunrise, a reality I’ve missed out on for too long a time. The sky was black then lightened. I stood on a hill and watched it happen. It was amazing and unique and made me feel very small and very large, both at the same time, but, interestingly enough, the phenomenon was surely nothing you can’t imagine (or set your alarm clock to observe), and I’ll spend no time describing it. What matters is that I was there when the darkness got converted. It was nice. There’s no value in developing this further—forced analogies feel like hiking in boots that are too tight; they rub and press and leave you not free to enjoy the surroundings. Suffice it to say: this may be when the black parts begin to lighten.

1 Response

  1. Laurie

    The sunrise sounded like it was good for you! Happy to see your words.

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