Walking. No where to go. And all the time to get there…

It’s now, like mid-afternoon on Saturday.

Wally looks up: “Dad, how about nap time.” He jumps up, tucks in, and drifts off.

I feel his little belly with each inhale and exhale. What a great sleeper. Prior to drifting off, I reflect on the last 48 hours — my 19th year anniversary at this stop, to the day.

My desk has been cleared of the work phone, the headset, the zoom lamp.

I turn on my PC to find Corporate Security has wiped all of my corporate apps and my system access. Just like that, gone!

The hum of 100-200 emails a day, conference calls, zoom calls, phone calls, road trips, presentations, strategy sessions, client meetings, staff meetings, back-and-forth commutes, etc etc etc has gone silent.

19 years. Gemini estimates the production and ingestion of 1 million emails requiring 1/2 Terabyte of storage.

What’s next?”

“I can’t see you sitting still for long.”

I stare at the screen. My fingers tap on the desk, habitually reaching for the keyboard. No task. No task. No Task. No Task.

“How do you feel?”

Right now? Unsteady.

“So what’s the plan.”

(Try to)

“Sit still and let the world do the moving.” (Stegner)


Dear Santa…

Wally said that while he is grateful for the itchy and awful holiday sweater that Mom bought for him for Christmas, he has pleaded with me to write Santa and tell him that we can do better than this given how great he has been all year. We’re working on it.

Weather Forecast: 95% cloud cover. Well…

For other shots from this morning’s walk, click here for Sunrise and here for Autumn colors.

And a special guest (Wally – The Boss) joined me at the end of my walk to carry giant rocks up and down the beach. Thank you Susan for the video.

Truth

My friend Paul had to put down Bear, his beloved 11-year-old black Lab. Bear’s lungs gave out, and Paul did the humane thing, although not without, in his words, crying hard and often. Every dog lover understands, for we know all too well how our dogs love us.

My mini bernedoodle, Sugaree, meets me at the door when she hears me on the front porch steps. She jumps in anticipation—all four legs catching air—until I enter the hallway. It’s a love that doesn’t diminish.

This is my welcome every weeknight when I come home from work. I haven’t split the atom, ended world hunger or even brought her a new chew toy, yet I am honored like Pompey the Great in his third Roman triumph.

This nightly greeting has two effects on me. First, it makes me want to be better, to be worthy of such love. This reflection, in turn, helps me to love God, whose perfect love never ceases to draw me out from my own imperfections, from the man I am to the man I should be.

Second, it reminds me how silly it is to think I can love too many people or anyone too much. If loving is willing the good of the other, then there is no upper limit to it. This insight helps me strive to love my neighbor and to be an instrument of peace. Sugaree is my role model, as Bear was Paul’s.

— Mike Kerrigan, from “Our Dog, Who Art in Heaven” (wsj.com, January 3, 2023)

Walking. In the Fog of War.

6 a.m. And I’m off. It’s now 1,313 consecutive (almost) days on this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a Row.

It’s been a while. Self: A while for what you might ask? 

I’m losing steam. Excelling at Lethargy. Or Lori’s big 6 letter word: Torpor.

Blogging is now less than an intermittent hobby.  

And — I’ve started what, 4, or is it 5 new books? And set them all aside. Can’t seem to engage, can’t seem to get a footing — I put them all down. And even more confounding, I could care less.

I shift to Audible, and I find myself 35 minutes in, with no recollection of anything I’ve just listened to. 

Sawsan throws a jab in a text message, it lands, I don’t even feel it, but it’s good to let her feel like she’s won one — I get lost in her science of poetry and tattoos. It’s like I’m swimming in a fully body Novocain bath.

Early this week, Susan announced that she had two big goals for 2024. She stared at me, expecting a response on my New Year’s Resolutions, and my response? Silence. I got nothing.

I look up at Wally sleeping next to me on couch. I snap the shot, the one above. Peaceful little guy seems to have it figured out while I’m wallowing (wallying?) around.

Continue reading “Walking. In the Fog of War.”