closer to life

skyAnd then sometimes I think about living closer to life. Like growing my own food. Which you would think is funny if you knew me because I have a pretty terrible track record with gardens. I always start out with the best of intentions. Then things just get out of hand. That’s not to say I haven’t managed some tomatoes, cukes, zucchini…. Basil.

So I think about growing my own food and then it just seems ridiculously impossible. Really, though, it’s just a matter of planning and discipline, right?

I even think about growing stuff indoors during these Michigan winters. Remember that character on Northern Exposure who had his greenhouse full of growing food up in Alaska?

Of course, then there’s the cat. If I’m growing anything inside, I have no doubt he’s going to eat it, at least strip the leaves off. Why worry about tomato hornworms when you’ve got a cat?

Again, a matter of planning and discipline – arranging things so the cat can not get access. Is that really so hard?

Which leads me to ponder other things that seem ridiculously impossible. Like making my living in a way that makes me happy, that’s authentic and meaningful, and, well, closer to life. Maybe, just maybe, I need to revisit that through the lens of “planning and discipline.”

I have ideas of things I’d like to do, but I never get very far with those thoughts before the “That’s ridiculous!” voice sounds off in my head. Whose voice is that anyway? Who is it that tells me I can’t? That it’s silly. That what I need is to have a marketable skill.

Ah ha! I recognize that voice. But that was then, and this is now. So I need to find and listen to my own voice, silly. Planning and discipline, eh?

musings on motion

salad
Tonight’s salad, which has little to do with musings about self-powered journeys, but was simply too delightful not to photograph and share.

So sometimes I think about making a self-powered journey with a little distance to it. Like riding my bicycle across Michigan, or maybe heading somewhere south. Or maybe it would be a walking/running journey of some sort. Think of all the things you’d see. And the people you would meet.

What a meditation each day would be.

I would probably start small, say, just take a two or three day trip – out and back. See how it goes, work the bugs out. Try it a few times ‘til I know I’ve got just the equipment I need. And it would definitely be minimal. Still, I’d have to be prepared to camp and all that.

I noticed All Seasons Cyclist rode just under 6,500 miles in 2012. Bravo! That’s pretty cool. That’s all miles in the now.

An acquaintance of mine is preparing to hike the Appalachian Trail. Maybe I could tag along for a bit.

People are out there doing this stuff. (I know because they’re blogging about it.) Many years ago, I made a truly epic journey by boat. I’d do that again, too. I used to think a lot about building a sailing dinghy and taking it along the intracoastal – a slow and careful trip where you would see all the details up close. For that matter, I could spend months just messing around a place like, say, Pamlico Sound with my little imaginary dinghy.

Back to real life, ahem, I went for a three mile run with my buddies just as it was about to start getting dark. Two new people showed up, which was great. It was cold, of course. The roads were icy, so it was slow going – we all went cleatless since not everyone was so equipped.

Back at home, warmed up with homemade split pea soup with carrots and onions and garlic. And had a delightful salad with my fave baby spinach blend, cucumber, tomato, sugar snap peas, and sprouts. Life is good.