Challenges

DHS 166



Given the nature of the trip i'm setting out on, it's fitting that i saw two interesting sports related articles in the news this morning.

First: Oh the pure and simple beauty of a well executed play resulting in an out in baseball. Now imagine 3x the beauty (link):



Second: If i wanted a hero, this woman would certainly rank right up there near the top of the list. She is an amazing example for all: Running down a dream: Leg amputee makes U.S. track team

Lastly, some final thoughts from that beautiful anthology A Book Of Luminous Things as i get ready to set out — tomorrow morning.

Vacation

One scene as I bow to pour her coffee: —

Three Indians in the scouring drouth
huddle at the grave scooped in the gravel,
lean to the wind as our train goes by.
Someone is gone.
There is dust on everything in Nevada.

I pour the cream.

William Stafford

And:

In The Middle Of The Road

In the middle of the road there was a stone
there was a stone in the middle of the road
there was a stone
in the middle of the road there was a stone.

Never should I forget this event
in the life of my fatigued retinas.
Never should I forget that in the middle of the road
there was a stone
there was a stone in the middle of the road
in the middle of the road there was s stone.

Carlos Drummond De Andrade

Not a lot of comment is needed; both are already very clear. One points to the sad life we normally live inside our cocoons, only occasionally looking up to notice the world as it passes by our window, then quietly closing that internal window and closing ourselves back inside. Is this really the way to live a life? Is this really the way to experience this one and only life we will live? Is this really the way to be the best person we can be?

The other points to just the opposite. If you put your mind to it, you can train yourself to notice the smallest details; not everything, but a lot more than we normally do. At the end of my ride will i remember the stones in the road that i swerve around instead of riding over? Will i remember the cardinal in the tree watching me ride by? Will i remember the Day Lillies blooming on the side of the road at that intersection? Will i remember the child that waved to me from her front porch when i stopped in front of her house? Will i remember that beautiful sunset after a day of rain in the Appalachias? Will i remember the small details? Can i keep myself awake throughout the day, day after day — open, awake, aware, alive?

Will i?