335 down and 31 to go! As we steamroll into December’s frigid field, we have the early opportunity to look in the rear-view mirror of this runaway freight train. We will stop, however briefly, to recharge batteries and top of supplies in a few weeks. Anticipating the annual review known as the resolution for the New Year. That often under-appreciated chore of inspection and analysis. What happened? What went right? What was a disaster? What did we learn? What can/could/should we do to outperform 2019? What are our adjusted goals? How crisp is the focus on our dreams?
I am pleased with the results of this years streak. The streak, you will recall, was begun two years ago when I decided that there was value, discipline, reward, catharsis and learning, what we call coachable moments, in doing a blog post every day. Not just on the days when I have a spare hour, or when an idea pops into my head, of when I would rather sit and type that go out and run, but every day. Every fucking day. I decided - and then committed - to making this happen. And it did. Then last year, after 365 (or very close) posts I decided that, after further review, that I liked the routine. It made it feel like practice, as if I was moving consistently towards something of value. Almost as if it had a meaning all its own and was aware of itself as not being ’for’ something, but able to exist on its own 'as' something. It had developed an identity. 'Something else’ was totally immaterial, this was for this, and this is it. THIS. IS. IT. There is no other, else, larger picture, additional content, footnote, future, goal, dream or hope. This is for this. It is awareness of the present moment and my puny contribution to my sanity, character and growth.
Over the years it has become something that I look forward to like breakfast. It allows me to explore the areas of my ego normally kept under strict supervision. I get to go all-out flow of consciousness or script by standard guidelines, I get to affix a headlamp to my psyche and go for a walk. I get to climb rhetorical mountains and swim in the sea of shark-filled chaos. I get to be judge, jury and executioner. I care not about public opinion as much as I care about getting to the meaning of things, I get to break rules and simultaneously observe the code with reverence and respect. I get to be a vulgar poet and a loud-mouthed bigot (should I choose.) I reserve the honored right to go in the dangerous direction of my bliss. I accept the incredible challenge of writing lyrics, poetry, stanzas of rhyming couplets and absolutely trashy semi-pornographic prose. I get to fantasize and squint at a brighter tomorrow. Sometimes I actually look (not edit) at some of these words that come from a clumsy tap of fingers on tiny faux-ivory keys and am amazed at how they fit together. One day last week I sat back in Dad’s old leather chair, the one I employ as task chair as I write and edit video, and delighted in one sentence, just a single line with a noun, verb and a pronoun and considered how if read like Hemingway. You know, like Tommy Hemingway who lives down the street.
And so as we bravely head over the river and through the trees into another new year - 2020 (yikes) - I have decided to continue the streak. One more year. One post every day. That will total three. It’s like consistency in training. We do something good every day. Run, bike, swim, stretch, lift, recover, hydrate, sleep, manage stress. We up the ante as we adapt to the stress intentionally placed and practiced. We increase the load constantly moving more, faster and with longer durations. We grow. We accept. We assist others with similar designs. We go from individuals in solo activity to a powerful, talented and motivated team. We create.
All because we do something challenging and perhaps seemingly inconsequential every day. Once a day every day.
And this inspires me.
If, as has been suggested, all politics is local, so might this be. Like a stone pitched into the still water of a lake and rippling outwards. Start here. Be the stone.
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