July 23, 2017: Recent medical circumstances dictated that I, as a person close to me said, “CHILL THE F$*# OUT”, and rest. I’ve spent the last several years full-tilt and pedal to the metal, trying like hell to outrun the dark. So rest, I did. On my hammock, on my porch swing, on my anti-gravity chair. At the spa and at the nail parlor. I ate tomatoes fresh from my garden. I smelled cedar from the giants that stand sentinel over my deck, and sweet lavender as I watered. I played photographer to a reluctant, on-guard spider.
I’m finally getting out of my doctor-imposed purgatory tonight to go to a concert at my local winery. I have to say it will be delightful to get out, but I haven’t hated this hiatus.
This afternoon, I had my anti-gravity chair on full-on recline mode, staring at the blue, blue sky, spotting cloud shapes. I saw a bunny, a turkey, an arrow, and I even identified a sky penis. I listened to nearby summer sounds … playful juncos flitting by, the wind softly rustling through the trees, a fairly bad band (at least at this distance) playing at the brewery down the hill, the staccato tch-tch-tch of an old-fashioned sprinkler, and the distinctive buzz of my beloved fighter pilot hummingbirds. What I realized is that I haven’t actually noticed any of this in a good long while.
I think I may embrace this slower pace. So, if you’re looking for me, you can find me on my deck, lying on my back, looking for naughty shapes in the sky.