Somedays you just wake up and it’s a workman/workwoman like day. There will be no flights of fancy. Or deep insights. Despite the sun hitting the fluffy snow mounds like a kiss, it will be a day where one foot is placed in front of the other. By that I mean I’ll be on phone calls. I’ll type some (I wouldn’t call it writing as the level of invention/imagination doesn’t come into play).
But this is the time where I can claim my thoughts. Make the day count as one more where I snagged a fleeting thought, turned it into a moment that didn’t exist before or a new realization for me that this is the way the world works.
And so in this state of non-lyrical nothingness I have this idea of what it is like to live your life as if it could be used later down the line — say when we’re all gathered at the campfire in the great-here-after swapping stories of what we remember, as day by day the images grow dimmer.
This image will be in my pocket, sitting there like a Metro card. An image of bouncing in the waves at the beach. The ocean is neither menacing nor lake-like. Friends, family are around you. And for a second you can maybe pop up and see what’s coming fifty to a hundred yards away. But for the most part your tossing and jumping and diving and just plain surviving moment by moment.
Sometimes there is an outstanding ride to shore. Not that I would ever do that. But some people do. And those are the brave ones. The daredevils. The artists. The CEOs.
They stand at the shoreline, sand piling up in their ass and smile seconds before they head back in to bob and dive like the rest of us.