Those of you who know me, and can consider yourselves people who know me well, know that I am a mess. Most of the past few years have been spent packing, unpacking, laundering, moving, running, scheming, yog-ing, taking off, flying, landing, and generally making a world of my own on so many terms that I'm not sure which are mine. Sometimes I sleep, too. And sometimes I fit baking or other culinary pursuits into my scatter-brained time table of life.
I have some few things, people, that anchor me to any given spot or any moment in time. I float. But I try and float in a good way, a positive way.
Which is why I crave simplicity; and why it is nice to be reminded of that simplicity even in this ludicrous world in which I exist (I suppose we all exist in this world, but bear with me). I can ride my bike to work. Back and forth I go, usually with my iPod in, usually cruising in a potentially dangerous- because it's terribly spaced-out- manner. I play chicken with cheeky squirrels; I meander and watch the shadows from the forest trees (of course I'm not watching the road); I try to make it on time for my 8:45 start hour.
This morning, in the stillness of early summer, there was a rabbit on the hiking path which bisects one of the roads I take to work. It watched me as I rolled by, and I watched it. I think my music playlist had shuffled me either to Jose Gonzalez's "Heartbeats" or Josh Ritter's "Monster Ballads." Either way, it worked. I was captivated by this silly little creature; this emblem of simplicity just sitting there on the trail, unmoving and unafraid. I rolled by, unwilling to disturb it.
That's when I found the snake in the road. I spooked myself, really. The snake was newly dead but still plump and lifelike enough to jar me from my rabbit idyll. I swerved to avoid- it just stayed where it was. I nearly crashed- it just kind of hung out.
There are great things everywhere; sweet moments that when strung together give me a stronger anchor chain. Even if one consists of a rabbit, another of a dead reptile.
Cheers, friends.
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