Not Going Anywhere

It’s not going anywhere. I have used this as an affirmation (incorrectly) on many occasions. In building by choosing an improper - but easily available - piece of wood, fastening device or protective cover. I have used the compromise when cramming so much junk or debris into the bed of my truck that it would make George Sanford blush. Security as well. That chain and tiny lock on your expensive racing bike as it proudly rests in the arms of your hitch-mount rack as you slip into the 7-11 for coffee? Not going anywhere. Right. 

Today the sun came up early. By 0530 my skylights were full of golden reminders that the daylight hours we have today, for work, for play and for learning, are burning. I struggle again with my daily breath count ritual, a condensed morning exercise I incorporate to compensate for my temporary lack of discipline with yoga, stretching and meditation. I lay comfortable and relaxed and simply count breaths from one to ten. Should take about a minute. Many days it takes me ten times that to effectively still my mind and focus on just the in and exhales. If you are not familiar with this abbreviated form of meditation, please try it. I have found over the years that it is a powerful ally in starting the day without the excess baggage and emotional turmoil of accumulated stress. It gives me great confidence and calm to reach the bottom of the stairs and look at that person in the bathroom mirror as someone who can start the day with a clean slate. 

There are myriad chores, each with their individual strategies and tactical challenges facing me today. Which is, of course, the same as yesterday. And the day before yesterday. Every day leads up to this day providing us with a daily opportunity to learn from the past, stay in the present and build for the future. Just getting out of bed at sunrise and facing these miraculous options can sometimes be a reward unto itself. We need priorities. There should be a primary objective. The mission must be relentlessly re-focused and re-energized. As I asked the class this week: WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?

To learn, to experience and to grow. We must have unwavering faith, trust and hope that someday, some way, all the seemingly trivial things we have collected, all the lessons we have learned and all the circumstances and situations we have managed to successfully negotiate will be revealed to us as prerequisites for the BIG DEAL. Every step we have ever taken has put us on this path, today, to do, learn, experience and face our destiny. 

It could be a big bang, fireworks and a brass band, or something as simple as the passing of a hummingbird. The connecting correlation being that in order to get the message the universe is sending, we must be awake and aware. Some people need the cherry bomb and John Philip Souza, others just the gentle ripple of wind. 

I am trying my best to do the work with a high degree of stealth. My neighbor works late into the night and is still sleeping. I need to get the recycling bins out to the road end, re-tighten the four bolts on the new hitch-rack and re-insert the spare tire underneath Whitey. The party rental company will be here to drop off tables and chairs. They have ordered that the tree-lined drive be thinned so branches do not scratch their delivery truck. I get that job as well. If I can get those done and mow a clients lawn I might be able to paddle across the sound in a two-person kayak and have lunch at the Marina on the other side with my gal-pal. 

I am on my back in the rocky gravel driveway underneath Whitey (my 2010 Ford Transit Connect) torquing the four bolts that attach the mount to the undercarriage and frame. It was a serious pain-in-the-ass yesterday aligning the cast-iron mount and I inadvertently cross-threaded one of the bolts. Fuck. I could go to Home Depot and buy an expensive thread chaser for this one-time 18mm use, or, considering that three bolts are surely sufficient to carry the maximum load of sixty pounds (three bikes), I compromise and say way too loud:

It’s not going anywhere.