Fast for me, slow for you

Lots going on

The stuff that’s been rattlin’ ’round in my head has been coming at a breakneck pace.

For me, anyway.

For the rest of the folks around me, I’ve been very quiet — especially on FB, Twitter, etc.

Sorting things out as I go… with a number of works in progress.

There’s the Paris – In and Out book, which I haven’t forgotten about.

There’s a handful of essays covering subjects from “Good and Evil”  … to an exploration of “what 5 choices/actions make us stupid or smart” … and a larger Work which underlies it all, concering “Matter, Space, and Time and its role in shaping our Reality (M/S/T/R)”

At this point, my M/S/T/R Work boils down and bubbles up to the following:

  • Matter does not exist as we typically understand it.
  • Space does not exist as we typically understand it.
  • Time exists – but not the way we think it does. The way we usually conceptualize it is sorta-kinda way off.
  • Reality exists (now is not the time to argue with me – you’ll have your chance later) — and there are common-sense tests for it that appear to have arisen out of my cosmology of Matter, Space, and Time.

So, yeah… I’ve been pretty busy. It’s just that nobody else has been able to tell.

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Need more – and better – time…

Life is not easy. Nor is it fair. I think we can all agree on that. Ironically, as time goes on, the ease of life can increase, while fairness seems to decrease. We grow, we learn, we acquire skill… only to run out of time to apply what we know in a meaningful and fulfilling way.

Consider the “usual” course of a modern lifespan. We muddle through childhood with all its injuries and troubles, stumble through the obstacle course of our youth, cast about in a full-tilt boogie during our 20’s to overcome the challenges of our earlier years, and then work like crazy people getting on our feet on the ground in our 30’s. In our 40’s, we’re more solidly on our feet, but things start to go wrong – spouses divorce, longstanding relationships of all kinds fracture, kids run into trouble as teens, parents become ill and/or die, and much that used to see set in stone has a way of morphing into something completely different or dissolving and disappearing completely.

Then come our 50’s, when still more physical changes happen – hormonal shifts that change our bodies’ rhythms and alter our standing in society, the further decline of the generation come before us… and the growing sense that we don’t have forever.

Then our 60’s arrive, when society expects us to start fading away and we start stepping out of the flow of productive lives… going into retirement, to enjoy our “golden years”.

If we’re fortunate, we see our 70’s, which can be characterized by physical and mental decline, the gradual passing-on of our friends and family members, and increasing financial uncertainty.

Those who are lucky – or hardy – enough to reach their 80’s, 90’s, and beyond can expect more of the same.

And in the final years of our advanced lives, there’s always the lingering question of just what our larger community is going to do with us, when all our customary intimate support systems have dissolved and passed away.

That’s the “normal” progression in the modern world. Plenty of people fall outside that paradigm and are resisting the inevitability of decline through a variety of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual approaches. 60 is the new 30, for sure. But what we all have in common – in the paradigm of having limited time on earth – is the experience of investing a whole lot of time, energy, blood, sweat, and tears into figuring out the world… only to realize we don’t have forever to put it to good use.

No sooner do we get to a point in our lives where we experience some level of mastery and a sense of accomplishment, than we become painfully aware that we’re not going to be around forever.

A window of opportunity opens on a bright, shining moment of feeling like we truly get it… and that window promptly begins to close.

Picking and Choosing : Adding Injury to Insult

Even worse than that – because let’s be honest, you could really die at any time, not only because of the ravages of time – if you’re living fully, paying attention, learning your lessons, and staying alert to the potential of life, you get to a point in life where so much more becomes possible than ever before. After years upon years of muddling through, figuring things out, being controlled by folks responsible for your welfare, weathering the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual storms of growing up, you amass enough experience to – at last – make your dreams come true and also do some good in the world.

You understand how things work. Finally. Perhaps even more importantly, you understand what doesn’t work. You have more ability than ever, to figure out exactly your dreams truly are, what needs to be done, what needs to be fixed, what needs to be stopped, what needs to be started. And you have the knowledge and experience and connections to make it all come true. At a certain age, with your hard-won accumulated knowledge, experience, ability, wisdom, drive, insight, and maturity, you have more power than ever to be the person you always wanted to be, do the things you always wanted to do, and effect positive change in the world.

But there’s not enough time in the day. You can’t do everything. You can think of so many things that could be done, that should be done, that should not go un-done. And you know how to do them. You’ve got the resources and resilience, to make it happen.

There’s just not enough time.

Sure, you could work like a crazy person, 20 hours a day, and sleep when you can. You could say good-bye to your friends and disappear into your World of Work. You could take shortcuts with bribes, manipulation, or other “workarounds”. But even with the most well-oiled machine on the planet, there would still not be enough time to do everything you can think of.

And so you either do many things so-so… or you let a lot of stuff drop, because you haven’t got the time to do it all. You make your choices. You cross things off your list. You prioritize and let go of prized projects that could really make a difference. You learn to live with that loss. And the world never finds out just what all you are capable of doing.

Because you only have so much time, and you can’t do it all.

So, What are Our Options?

How do we carry on in the face of these real and perceived time limitations? We of the modern Western world deal with “not having enough time” every single day of our lives, and we do it with varying levels of satisfaction.

As discussed above, we can give in to the apparent lack of time by picking and choosing what we do, and how and when we do it. We can develop all sorts of time management strategies, study how to Get Things Done, take classes and workshops, purchase paper planners and mobile apps, read the books of trusted experts, and follow time management blogs that give us daily updates on the latest in time management innovations.

If we accept that we have a limited amount of time on earth, these are our typical options. And they can give us some sense of influence and control over the movement of time in our lives.

Additionally, we have a couple of other options which range farther afield from our typical relationship to time:

  • Get Faster at what we do – do more with what limited time we have

  • Create More time – expand our experience of time, so that we literally have more to work with.

The idea of Getting Faster is not a new one. Athletes do it. Folks who earn their living from production of some kind do it. Folks in manufacturing, the trades, web technology production, and any kind of competitive business that relies on getting to market first, know intimately what it’s like to need to go faster – and do it better each time, so that quality isn’t sacrificed along the way. time crunches and deadlines are a way of life, and figuring out how to pack more high-quality productivity into a set timeframe is the brass ring countless folks reach out for on an hourly basis.

The other approach, Creating More time, may seem like a stretch. Isn’t time an objectively measured resource, which moves at its own pace, independent from our wishes and whims? After all, everybody uses clocks, and clocks measure the passing of time, regardless of how quickly or slowly we want it to pass. Doesn’t Father time have a mind of his own?

Maybe. Plenty of thinkers have pondered this in great detail, and they’ve come up with a lot of different explanations for the nature of time. My own experience, perceptions, and reflections tell me that this thing we call “time” is both an objective and a subjective phenomenon. It is both an independent entity in its own right and a part of our lives that changes its nature and qualities based on our own observations and experience of it. And it can change in response to certain types of intention.

Rather than being an immutable external “thing” that both rewards and victimizes us, time is a dynamic expression of our physical reality which changes its very nature based on how we relate to it and interact with its dynamic qualities.

Certainly, we can deal with the problems of “time shortage” by crossing items off our list of wishes and life missions. Yet ultimately, I believe – based on my own personal experience and a ton of a certain type of thinking I’ve been doing for years, now – that we can and do have the ability to not only change our pace to comfortably fit more activity into a limited timeframe, but also actually create more time to work with.

For me, personally, that’s good news.

I know how it works. I just need to be able to explain it on paper in a way that other people can understand and put to some use. I’m in the process of proving it all out, based on the assumption that there’s an excellent chance that I’m wrong… or that I’m missing something. But like any other theory or belief system, this is a work in progress, and it will necessarily change as more information comes to light.

Stay tuned…

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Cleaning house

I’ve been getting love notes from my ISP lately, about how much space I’m taking up on their servers. I have shared hosting, so I need to consider the needs of the many, versus the needs of the one (me).

After some initial irritation at being pinged every month or so about how much space I’m taking up (I did sign up for unlimited usage, after all), I took a look at what’s actually on my disk.

Seems I have a sizable proliferation of a whole bunch of crap for years gone by, which I never bothered to clean up. I was busy doing BIG THINGS, after all, and I figured that someday, oneday, I might actually need that stuff.

Turns out, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need it. I haven’t needed it in years — some of it in decades. It’s time I cleaned up my act.

I’ve been spending this lovely afternoon in front of an open window, looking out onto my deerfly-infested back yard, wiping out old sites and WordPress instances that I thought would be a good idea, once upon a time, but never panned out. Some of the ideas were better than others. Some of them were dogs from the start. But ultimately, you can’t let the chance of eventually being wrong, keep you from attempting to be right.

And looking at all of my ideas along the way, it’s plain to me that my life priorities have shifted… away from technical implementations and roll-outs, for the sheer joy of doing it, to conceptualizing at a more abstract level those things which offer not only sheer joy, but also some pragmatic, utilitarian promise.

Doing stuff for its own sake is wonderful and fun.

Doing stuff because it holds water, it squares with reason, and it follows logically from one supposition to the next… and it continues to hold water even after being tossed around and roughed up a bit… now, that’s even more wonderful and fun.

One thing that strikes me, as I click on a subdirectory where I have installed a WordPress instance together with a handful of “helpful” plugins, is how much absolute glut there is in the system. These templated systems with their complement of useful tools and features are seriously bloated. Each function seems to have its own individual file, which may make it easier for the system as a whole to interact with, make it more modular and customizable, etc. But that comes at a price — bloat and glut and other consonant-laden words which convey a combination of dismay and disdain in a single syllable.

But holy crap — two words, I know — tinymce has a ton of moving pieces, which may prove useful to everyone and anyone who puts it to use. But geez. It makes getting rid of the thing quite involved via Filezilla.

I know, I know — I should just login via secure shell and do rm -r on the thing. I have done it for some disposable directories. But a part of me enjoys seeing all the different files and directories going bye-bye before my very eyes. Kind of like de-fragging a hard drive in 1999.

Well, in any case, tinymce is now gone, along with about 20 different directories packed full of all sorts of relics from my days of enthusiastic compulsive (?) starting-up of whatever came to mind. I’ve kept what I need.

For now, anyway.


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Cue the Heroic Dissonance

Thank you

It’s Memorial Day, and like many Americans, I’m taking some time to remember our fallen… our military heroes of all kinds. The newspapers have been displaying pictures of the Viet Nam Memorial and Arlington National Cemetery for days, now, reminding us all about those who have paid with their lives.

I think of my father-in-law, who carried German shrapnel in his legs till the end of his life. I think of his brother-in-law, who was in the Pacific Theater, and never liked to talk about it. I think of my great aunt, who didn’t serve in World War II, but traveled to France to help the country rebuild when the post-war dust was starting to settle. I think of the many, many Americans near and far who have sacrificed to some degree or another. And I think of what their sacrifice means to us all. I think about rewards and penalties, costs and blessings. I wonder what makes a hero.

In particular, I have been thinking of George Washington Bert, a distant cousin of my grandfather, who lost his life on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, 70 years ago this coming June 6. For his service, he was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star. A short description of his life in our family geneology reads:

George lifted his agricultural deferment in 1943 and enlisted in the US Army. After serving in Africa and Sicily, he was stationed in England until the invasion of the Continent. He was killed in action on D-Day, June 6, 1944, in the vincity of Colleville-sur-Mer in Normandy. According to the citation for his Bronze Star, “Realizing that he was facing certain death, Pfc. Bert remained on exposed beach and, by directing effective automatic rifle fire upon enemy gun emplacements, enabled his section to maneuver into strategic positions. In the performance of his heroic, self-imposed mission, Pfc. Bert was mortally wounded.”

I often imagine what that day might have been like for my distant cousin twice-removed, but I cannot possibly. So, I simply say a silent “Thank you,” and get on with my blessedly mundane life.

Meanwhile, it’s also graduation season, with crops of new grads freed up to enter the workforce or commence their higher education. Like many others, I have been watching the YouTube videos of entertaining commencement speeches my friends have “liked” on Facebook, navigating heavier-than-usual traffic in Boston on the weekends, and wondering what sort of world our newly minted degree-holders are entering. Rolling my cart full of haphazardly bagged groceries past the newpaper rack at the grocery store, glancing at the pictures of military tombstones with “Heroes” in the headlines, I wonder if the newly graduated cashiers and baggers behind me have any idea what they’re getting into.

And it occurs to me, they might not — but not for the reasons we typically call out. Modern critics and social architects call attention to the “skills gap”, the lack of workers who can take on the “shovel-ready” jobs, the increasingly eclectic tone of exorbitantly expensive education. Yes, a young former co-worker of mine did take a class in “wine pairing” while in college. Yes, there are a ton of professional positions sitting unfilled, while yet more tons of professionally prepped candidates sit on their parents’ couches Netflixing away. Yes, there is a bias against manual labor that not only hurts our economy, but also narrows the viable options for the able-bodied.

But another sort of gap threatens productivity and earning power. I call it “Heroic Dissonance” — a complete and total disconnect between the expectations of those who work, and those who pay them to get the job done.

Heroic Dissonance is the disconnect between those who believe heroism is about how much you suffer, and those who believe it’s about how well you perform.

It’s the gaping divide between the perspectives of those who expect to be compensated for what they sacrifice for a cause… and the willingness of others to reward them for what they deliver.

It’s the conflict between those who believe their pay grade  should reflect how much they’ve given up, how much hardship they’ve endured… and those who tie earnings purely to results.

This divide is very real, and it has its costs. It kills morale, undermines work product, complicates mangerial dynamics, and it hinders cross-group interactions. It also makes meaningful negotiation all but impossible — the equivalent of a French-only speaker working out contractual details with a Mandarin-only speaker.

Let me give you an example: I once had two friends (who shall remain nameless) who co-produced a number of events. One of the collaborators had health issues which prevented him from doing much physical activity until the actual event took place. He didn’t have a lot of energy to start with, so any effort he put into preparation pretty much sucked the life out of him. His contribution was largely passive, until it was showtime, when he sprang into action … and wore himself out.

The other collaborator did more of the active legwork and promotion. He knew none of the events were going to happen unless he could provide extraordinary value to their clientele — and he went to great lengths to make that happen. People signed up, because of his ongoing work. And they kept coming back to events, thanks to that level of attention.

Heroic Dissonance was an ongoing source of friction between these two folks. Each of them was a hero in his own eyes — but for very different reasons. The total time and effort the active collaborator brought to the events was exponentially larger than the passive collaborator’s contribution. And yet the passive collaborator complained every single time that he was not being paid nearly enough for everything he sacrificed personally for the cause. He had suffered and sacrificed a great deal, so he should be paid half the net earnings, despite doing a fraction of the actual work.

From his point of view, he was right — he suffered more and sacrificed more than his co-producer. But in terms of time invested and actual value created, he was way off base.

I see this same disconnect played out in the “class warfare” dynamics of the day. Those who feel a person should be compensated for what sacrifices they make, and those who feel a person should be rewarded for what value they contribute, can hardly be expected to agree on who should be paid what — and why. Those who feel pay levels should match what they sacrifice to show up at work every day, are never going to see eye to eye with those who feel uncapped pay levels should inspire an individual to drive growth. Those who feel that no one person is 3000 times more important than another, are never going to believe that any executive — no matter how brilliant or powerful — should be paid 3000x the average company salary. And those who believe salary levels should be commensurate with the extent to which they support and grow the business, are never going to buy into earning caps of any kind.

We’re at an impasse. In just about every corner of our society.

And I wonder if any of our grads are being prepared for a world where, yes, your earnings are in fact linked to how much others get from younot how much of yourself you give.

I wonder if they’ve been taught how to convey the value of what they contribute, in ways that their future bosses can appreciate, quantify, and convert into earnings increases.

I wonder if they’ve been warned that making a point, over and over, about how much you’ve sacrificed, how much you’ve toiled, how much you’ve suffered for the cause, is not going to make you look like a Hero in a business context. It’s going to make you look like a whiner, a poor planner, and a lousy self-manager who’s about as likely to get promoted as that yappy dog that lives next door.

I wonder if anybody’s mentioned to them that in the end, focusing on what you’ve lost for the Cause makes your life all about The Problem, while focusing on what everyone else has gained as a result of your efforts (be they large or small), makes your career all about The Solution. And bosses like Solutions. They like them a lot.

Maybe the message has gotten through. I tend to think there are people who instinctively pick up on these sorts of things — and they’re the folks you find in the corner office in a surprisingly short period of time. But all across society, we probably owe it to ourselves to mention these things to the next crop of wage-earners paying into the Social-Security pot.

My distant relative George Washington Bert was awarded a Bronze Star for the part he played in the success of D-Day. Would he have received the honor, if the offensive had not succeeded? Would he have been honored, if he had stayed on that beach, but been shot down before he had a chance to cover his section and let them get into position? Would he have received the Bronze Star, if he had done all he did, yet survived? What if he’d survived D-Day, but his gun had jammed and he hadn’t been able to do a thing? Would he have been rewarded just for showing up?

It’s impossible to tell. But these are the sorts of questions we all need to ask ourselves, as we pursue our careers and hope to advance in the world. What we are giving is one thing — what others get from us, can be something very, very different. And chances are good that others looking out for their own interests are going to focus on the latter.

If nobody else has mentioned this, then the latest crop of grads can hereby consider themselves warned. We live in a society which respects and celebrates personal sacrifice in pursuit of a shared goal. We declare our fallen “Heroes” and honor them in due course. We need those Heroes. The world would be a dismal, far more dangerous place if we had no Heroes who were willing to sacrifice for others.

But we conduct business in an economic climate which rewards those who create positive change for improvement and growth — with or without personal sacrifice. And in the eyes of an executive needing to stay in the black, someone who performs bottom-line miracles without breaking a sweat is a thousand times more of a Hero than someone who runs themself into the ground day and night to barely break even.

It doesn’t make one any more or less of a hero than the other. We just need to know which sort of heroism matters, and when– and then act accordingly.

To all those who have served, to their families and friends who have shared their sacrifices, thank you.

Today, yes, you are Heroes.

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Stop looking for the “right” career, and start looking for a job.

Just get a job

Words of wisdom from Mike Rowe, of “Dirty Jobs”.

A Fan Asks Mike Rowe For Life Advice… His Response Is Truly Brilliant.

I have to say from personal experience, his advice to a fan about how to find fulfilling work that suits your life  really works.

The fan writes:

I’ve spent this last year trying to figure out the right career for myself and I still can’t figure out what to do. I have always been a hands on kind of guy and a go-getter. I could never be an office worker. I need change, excitement, and adventure in my life, but where the pay is steady. I grew up in construction and my first job was a restoration project. I love everything outdoors. I play music for extra money. I like trying pretty much everything, but get bored very easily. I want a career that will always keep me happy, but can allow me to have a family and get some time to travel.

And Mike Rowe responds in a thorough and well-thought-out manner which includes:

Stop looking for the “right” career, and start looking for a job. Any job. Forget about what you like. Focus on what’s available. Get yourself hired. Show up early. Stay late. Volunteer for the scut work. Become indispensable. You can always quit later, and be no worse off than you are today. But don’t waste another year looking for a career that doesn’t exist. And most of all, stop worrying about your happiness. Happiness does not come from a job. It comes from knowing what you truly value, and behaving in a way that’s consistent with those beliefs.

The idea of just getting hired is key — especially in this job market. We’ve got truckloads of grads coming out of colleges and universities, all looking for something that suits them… and we’ve also got truckloads of recent grads playing X-box or Netflixing on their parents’ couches because they “can’t find anything”. Some of them have been “growing stale” for a number of years, as they don’t find exactly the right opportunity that matches their expectations.

Having entered the job market at a time that was unprecedented in its utter crappiness since the Great Depression (it was 1987, when the bottom fell out of the stock market and large-scale layoffs were rampant in the area where I lived), and having never been unemployed for longer than 2 weeks since early 1988, I can’t say I feel a lot of pity for recent grads — or their parents who allow them to languish.

What I’ve found, after more than 25 years in the workforce, is that just getting a job is a much bigger insurance policy against career stagnation, than refusing to “settle” for something that’s “beneath” me. Why?

Three big reasons:

First, it keeps your resume from developing any holes. Trust me, you don’t want holes in your resume. It tells the world that nobody wants you — and if nobody on the face of the planet has been interested in you for extended periods of time, why should prospective employers have an interest in you? They take their clues about your character and your work ethic and your desirability from your job history. So, if you plainly show that nobody was interested in you before, it makes prospective employers very, very nervous.

Second, it opens you up to potential opportunities to advance inside companies. I’ve taken plenty of jobs that were “below my skill level”  — and you know what? They’ve always parlayed into something bigger and better.

Every. Single. Time.

The temp-to-perm marketing admin position I took with a little B2B publishing company, about a year after I left school turned into a Cardpack Coordinator position that put me in charge of a growing direct marketing channel that expanded exponentially over the time I was there and brought in a whole lot of money. This came after a year of working temp positions that provided me a steady paycheck and distressed my concerned parents to no end, because I was being “shiftless” — or something like that.

The office manager position I took with a little software company turned into a position as the Head of Documentation for a software product that was way ahead of its time and got me hands-on experience with DOS (remember that?), Windows, AND Mac platforms.

Along the way, I’ve had a lot of “scut work” jobs that everybody said were “beneath me”. But you know what? They always  – always – always turned into something else. Something better. Because I figured out how to parlay them into a bigger and better opportunity — either at the company where they were located, or at another company that needed the kinds of skills I’d developed doing “grunt work”.

Third, it keeps you busy, and it keeps you hungry. There’s nothing like having to get out of bed every day to go off to a job you don’t like, to fuel your fire for self-improvement. If you hate your damn’ job, and you know you’re capable of so much more, it gives you plenty of incentive and energy to develop yourself for something better.

I got into web development that way — I was working a “good job” that had a lot of responsibility, power, and influence and looked great on paper, but I was miserable.

So. Utterly. Miserable.

So, what did I do? I found something I liked better, and I studied it like a mad person, each and every day. I had a 30-minute commute to and from my job, and I used that half hour each day to study up and learn the skills I needed in order to make my move. I practiced like a possessed person on the weekends. I was totally focused on Doing Something Else, and that desire for something better drove me, day in and day out.

After a little more than a year’s time, when my ability level was up to snuff, I revamped my resume and posted it online. And not long after, I got a call from a recruiter with a sweet opportunity that got me out of that hell-hole job pronto. It was a breath of fresh air — which I’d been earning with consistent hard work and dedication for quite some time.

I went from dreading going to work, to loving it. And even volunteering to go above and beyond. And the annual earnings goal that I’d set for myself a few years before (I intended to earn x-amount of dollars by the time I was 35), I reached a few years early.

Not only was I doing work I loved, but I was making a better living than I’d honestly thought I could make.

I doubt that would have happened, if I’d taken a job that “suited me fine” instead of that job I grew to hate. Sure, I could have found something half-way decent that I liked a little bit more, but that would never have fueled my fire for self-improvement, and if I’d stayed on an “okay” track, my present situation would be much more… modest, than it is today.

Ultimately, the thing that really matters to how successful you are — more than any qualifications you have or any career designs or ambitions or personal interests — is not where you are. It’s where you will be. What your potential is. And it’s about making sure others know you’ve got potential — so they can support and promote you.

That’s largely determined by what you bring to your work — which contributes to the greater whole. It’s not all about you. What you bring to it gets noticed. And the degree to which you contribute, determines your value, your hireability, and ultimately your long-term prospects.

In the end, what really makes it possible to find the perfect career, is to make yourself the perfect person for the job — no matter what job you’re doing at the time.

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Where there’s art, there’s just a bit more possibility…

Originally posted on Anthony Turi:

From the Archives… This article, the first of my ‘archived’ pieces on this site, was written in January 2007. It was inspired by a visit to the Tate Modern with my niece, nephew and my oldest friend, and my encounter at the Tate with Carsten Holler’s ‘Slides’ installation…

So my niece asked me to take her to the Tate Modern, because she’s working towards her Art G.C.S.E., and she wanted to see some of the paintings that she’s been studying. Her younger brother, naturally, also wanted to come, and I invited Cronain along too, to help out with the historical details and context.

Times have changed. I can remember my niece being a little girl, and taking her to the playground at the local park. The usual images from such a montage are all present: helping her on to climbing frames, pushing her on the swings, watching her – and her brother…

View original 508 more words

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Spring is here – kind of

The path leads to spring… hopefully

Although today at 34 degrees F — roughly 1 degree Celsius — my walk to the woods didn’t feel like it. I had even considered not going for that walk, after looking at the temperature and seeing it was nowhere near yesterday’s. Saturday was fairly warm, and the continuous see-sawing of temps back and forth — between warm and not-warm — gets to be a little demoralizing. The last thing I needed was to walk out today and have my flagging spirits trampled yet again. It’s Sunday, after all, which means that another full week is ahead of me… and the idea of not having the free space to just BE and do things at my own pace, in just a matter of hours… well, that on top of cold weather felt like a little much.

But I went out anyway. Bit the bullet, pulled on the gloves, and walked out the road to the trail head. I wasn’t sure I was going to hike back into the forest, then decided on a whim to walk in to the beaver pond, make the circuit around it, and come back out — all in time to get home to mix up a Sunday brunch of chicken-apple sausages and scrambled eggs for our house guests.

March in New England is an interesting thing this year. It can’t seem to make up its mind, and it showed on the trail. The path was either a frozen solid sheet of ice, or it was a lacey mix of half-melted ice and snow, or it was clear of all cover except for last year’s leaves. I hip-hopped from one patch of leaves to the next, gingerly skirting the icy spots, and crunching through melting snow that sometimes spilled in over the tops of my hiking shoes and melted in little pockets of cold dampness around my ankles.

I hate those little pockets of cold dampness around my ankles.

So, I tried my best to keep to the leafier parts of the trail… and watch my step, because the going was treacherously slippery in places, and even though I do have ICE contact information on my cell phone (which was with me), I’d just as soon not test out that capability with the Bolton EMTs.

Signs of spring were indefinite, I have to say. The teaberry plants are always green, so seeing them sticking up through the snow seemed like a hollow announcement of nothing much. The ground was soft and spongy in places, as the earth readies for mud season, but there was still plenty of ice and snow; for all anyone could tell, it might just as well have been a warm spell in February. I did see a congress of about 10 robins in someone’s yard, but as soon as they all flew away, everything looked the same as it had two months ago. There is definitely less snow on the ground, these days. But they’re calling for more on Tuesday/Wednesday, so it’s cold comfort to gaze longingly at the glistening muck under that noncommittal gray sky.

Spring will get here when it gets here. But the thought occurred to me that I may in fact never be warm again. In my entire life.

My early spring bleakness notwithstanding, it was a good walk. I ate my daily apple while I ambled, and I pitched the core into the woods where some lucky squirrel or deer would find it. All the concentrated focus on the trickier parts of the trail warmed me up, and I emerged from the tree cover reminded — yet again — how much can change about your attitude, if you just make a start at things.

Before I’d left the house, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go out.

As I emerged from the woods, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back.

But our house guests were waiting, and I was getting hungry. There was sausage to cook, mushrooms and onions to sautee… and a mess o’ eggs with another cup of coffee would really hit the spot. And it did.

Spring will get here when it gets here. In the meantime, I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy.

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