Life Happening without Me
After more than a week now of officially living full-time in our Oliver, I am slowly adjusting to a life of leisure never before experienced. I have always had some project, some property to take care, a house, cabin, a job, kids, something that took my precious time. Now that I am free from almost any assault on my freedom, I find myself struggling and wondering how to cope. Endless bike rides, all-day opportunities to read and write, take afternoon naps, and discover the natural world around me does little to settle my restlessness. I am not complaining. This is what I wanted. The enigma of existence. Wherever I go there I am. And nothing is required of me but to Be Here Now. Yesterday I sat in my lawn chair for a few minutes under the Ollie awning and petted Bob the dog. We had just returned from another bike ride. I realized then that I have been wearing the poor dog out because of my restlessness. I have to learn to just sit still. The state park we are camping in has over three thousand beautiful acres. There are boundless photographs available for my camera if I wish to take them. My partner is still on duty in California and there are times I get lonely for her. She is who I talk to intimately. Other people in the park and campground do not interest me. The only people that can give comfort are young mothers with children. I like them and they seem to like us. Picture Bob the dog and an old scruffy man riding a dope Electra Townie. We wave and sometimes let the kids meet Bob. But eventually we wheel on, attempting to live in the moment. Moving camp every three or four days helps with the encroaching boredom, but my wish is to learn how to stay put in one place. Perhaps spend a couple weeks somewhere. Then I believe I will be making progress with my self-awareness. Until then I struggle on, continually engaged in my addictive planning, and willing I suppose to suffer the consequences of life happening without me.
