It's been a month since I last wrote. Passover has come and gone. We've moved house. All sorts of muscles now hurt that I haven't felt in a long while. Uriel insists that we can move all sorts of furniture that at least in my case younger, more brutish men should be doing. My back reminds of this, as does my knee.
On the more positive side, I'm on track to complete a million meters this year, with 14,000 left to do in the next few days. I think I'll go for two next year, but might adjust that to bicycling or running depending on how much time I spend on the road.
And I'm already anticipating questions of next year, which I suppose is more a question of conviction than anything else. On the one hand, I don't see that there is any reasonable probability of unseating Trump. On the other, one doesn't know what the next year may hold. Disaster, death, destruction could be visited upon the man. And opportunities can grow from the journey, assuming I step off.
And then there is just taking the damned journey. I just haven't. I've gone many times to the States (or at least two of them), and it's done me good, but most of those times have been mission based. I didn't take the year when I should have and don't act as if I deserve the time now. School is out June 20. I have a court date on the 11th of September. This would give me ten weeks which I think it is selfish to take just for me.
So I'm trying to make deals in my head, having to do with curtains and closets and getting this house set so that I can go.
And I'm not ready for school, and I have taxes and disclosures, and doors and closets and curtains, and a bit of exercise, to take care of still.
And the whole burning pop thing really pissed me off again yesterday. And he was tired, but it would have been nice to have one last adventure with him.
And G-d is just motions, or perhaps a useful fiction. My experience is gone is gone, and that's that. And maybe it's just time for me to step out of my normal course of things and meditate some. And maybe this is just a rich person's problem. Maybe survival is just too easy. Idle hands and all that.
For being so lucky though, I just don't feel so damned lucky.
So ten things I could do:
- Visit Alaska in memory of my Oma,
- Visit Vineland in memory of my paternal line,
- Visit my cousins before more of them die,
- Podcast about the people I meet along the way,
- Introduce the many Americas to Americans,
- Spend a night in a desert,
- Spend a night in a ghost town,
- Add value to a new person every day,
- Take pictures along the way,
- Get on a regular sleep schedule,
- Exercise every day,
- Fast until I feel good about myself.
And let's go with three things to be thankful for:
- That I am smart,
- That I have people who love me, and
- That I don't have to worry about having food on my table.