It's been nice to feel the dark, cold in my lungs and the pavement blurring beneath my shoes. The whole town was cast blue with a snowy dusk, the clouds hanging low over the Bridger Mountains and I could only hear the sound of my heartbeat and pattern of breathing. I've been running again, as a solution to restlessness.
Once, a friend told me to do little things instead of big things (such as moving furniture around my room instead of buying a one way plane ticket) to cure the need to move. That's stayed with me and though I am developing stronger plans for the spring, this is the longest I haven't gotten on a plane in two years. I have magazine subscriptions and a membership to the climbing gym and I'm actually living in the room I'm paying rent for. It's got ups and downs but if I must live anywhere right now, I think this will do just fine.
Today I went fishing with my friend and her father. They remind me of family, so it was nice to be in their company. We pulled up to the river in a big blue truck, and the water was moving quickly. I think the sole act of simply sitting next to moving water cures something in the soul. I was told that John Muir had his house built with the bedroom corner over the river so he could listen while he fell asleep. I thought of that today as I nested in my jacket into the bank and laid in the sun. I feel like it was time well spent--watching the casting of the line into the water.
At this point in my life I feel as if I can do most anything, or I could go most anywhere I'd like.
I think I'll remember days like today when I'm old and things slow down-the magic moments of golden sun and good company.
