The world is feeling a little smaller right now. I’m currently sequestered on Revilla Island with two weeks off. I’m about to trek out into the interior and explore some of the trails at my disposal.
I had the option to fly out for two weeks but, in an abundance of caution, I opted to stay put.
At this time when all we know is that very little is certain, it’s better to ere on the side of caution rather than risk
What’s the capital in Alaska?
A!
Just a silly joke.
Here’s another:
A couple of hikers were prepping for their trek through Denali. At the outfitters, they were given bells and colored ribbons. Inquiring as to their purpose, they were told, “the bells are good at keeping black bears away. Do you know how to identify the bears from their droppings?”
Another hiker leaned over and whispered, “Black bear manure has berries in it. Kodiaks’ will have bells and colored ribbons.”
There’s magic in the coming spring. We can sense the Earth preparing for the warming weather; the ground softening, the ice thawing, and the foliage preparing to bloom.
There are experiences that a human can lose touch with. Not many tend to a garden anymore or spend enough time in nature. It’s all work, fifty weeks a year, with hopefully two for vacation. Sometimes better, sometimes worse, but the average is about right there.
But right now, when life the Nation is facing a bit of a crisis, and nothing seems to make sense, it’s good to remember to make time. Make time for the experiences that we might miss if we just plow through the day.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” That’s what I’ve been told many times.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
The sentiment keeps ringing in my ears, calling to my deeper instincts. It’s three parts:
It’s my belief that we’re all looking for something. The ones who can put a name to it are more likely to find it. Yet, sometimes, a name isn’t to be had. If only a name was known, then the quest would be easy.
It’s not always easy. And it’s not always fruitful. But it’s always important.
It’s been a crazy two weeks, hasn’t it? The health concerns, markets, price of oil, And the weekend isn’t providing much in the way of relief. Now the Fed is dropping interest rates to zero for the first time since 2008 (though that cut lasted until 2015).
The cheaper borrowing may provide an incentive for businesses to borrow or start new programs or build or expand. However, workers feeling the financial crunch that business closures will cause won’t find much hope in a lower Fed rate.
Fear is fear. That which we don’t understand keeps us fettered. While the world waits for answers and relief, each of us throwing our own matchsticks into the night, we expect that the morning will come soon. We hope for it, and we wait for it.
Tuned into this podcast completely by accident: The Wild with Chris Morgan. Pretty fabulous. I listened to two episodes, the first on our connection with animals and the second on what trees are telling us.
I recommend giving it a listen, and I’ll start a deep dive as I hike some of the Ketchikan trails in my off time. Today I walked Rainbird Trail. I’m waiting for the snow to thaw before I hike up Deer Mountain.
Sometimes it won’t go the way you intend it. Sometimes you’ll make a mistake (or three). You’ll miss a deadline, you’re overestimate or under-deliver. There are a thousand-and-one ways to screw up. And at some point you’ll make that misstep.
But, it’s okay. It happens. More often than not it’s a revoverable misstep, and if it isn’t – it’s not the end of the world. No one has screwed up so badly that the world ceased to exist, because we are still here.
So let it go. Move on. It’s okay. There’s always tomorrow.
In the early stages of a panic fear takes over. A fear from not knowing much, of anything, for sure. The more information we have regarding a thing, the less fearful we become.
It comes from being huddled together in the dark, not seeing what happens just beyond the tree line. Once fire illuminated the shadows we were able to conquer those fears.
But as we are the ancestors of those early fire-starters, so too are our fears ancestors of those early shadows. It is important to light the night, and shine upon the unknown, to diminish our fears.
You want to know something? I don’t know what I’m doing.
Just about every day I ask myself twenty, thirty, fifty times, “What do I want to do? Where do I want to go?”
Sometimes that means what will I write. Other times, it’s where I want to live. Or work. Or play. And I can never answer in the long term.
There are times I feel guilty writing this blog because someone could read it. And, feeling the effects of impostor syndrome, I feel that the reader could have spent time reading something more valuable.
Yes, I try to provide value here. Tips I’ve found helpful, or stories I wanted to share. Places and things that were meaningful to me, or insights I’ve come across. But at the end of the day, it’s just me and my computer. or my notebook, and I don’t have a clue.
Thing is, no one does. Some people make more money or lead what we would call interesting lives. But they are just as lost as the rest of us, searching for answers in their own way.
I write here to practice writing. I write here to be present with something. I write here because it forces me to pay attention to the world so that I have something to write about.
But the hardest things to write are those things hit close to home. Admitting that I don’t know what I’m doing. Saying to myself, and whoever’s reading this, that it’s okay. It’s okay to not know. We’re not meant to know all the answers. It’s the journey that’s important, not the destination.
Michael's Musings 