09.22.23

As though it were a bull inside a ceramics shop there appeared to be no exit or entry. Instead, from across a great plain, a man emerged and said unto us, “Be not of man for man is beset by his fears.” It took us months to determine what exactly it was that this man meant and months further to determine what we meant. We spun around and wondered. We pondered and pointed. We aimed and missed. It was all a game we played until we passed out in front of the television that day across from the golf course. Oh…the memories of that Louisiana homestead.

09.21.23

Marijuana and a bus ride to the city center. A lost dog on a cattle gate somewhere outside of Bozeman. A sideways photo to replace the previous. Have a glass of wine to loosen things up and then never touch it again. I can’t believe in the northern lights because I’ve never seen them, but I can say that it was nice to ride bikes. Leave it at that. Take a break. Get a washing machine. Stack the mattresses. Mow the lawn and take out the trash. The dog will lick your face if you let it. Coffee, water, tea and tacos.

09.20.23

I took a break and I didn’t write yesterday. I’m not certain that it felt good or that I rested from the activity in any way, but I did skip a day regardless. This exercise hasn’t been as rewarding as I recall it being. I haven’t tapped what I used to be able to call upon in regard to creativity and flow. I suppose that’s the whole point of practice and that it will come back at some point. It’s just so strange that it doesn’t roll out of me like it used to. Maybe my mind isn’t as clear? Maybe I’m not as inspired as I once was? Maybe I’m rushing? Maybe I’m forcing it? Maybe it is actually happening and I just don’t realize it? It could be a number of things. The important piece is the consistency. Keep moving.

09.18.23

Seven and six and three. You’ll find yourself all alone eventually so you might as well live as though no one is coming to save you. It’ll save a bunch of headache later. Focus is lost or strained. A twenty dollar bill on the table for snacks during the field trip. Absence. Unexcused. Problematic. Wander. Wander. Wander. I hear the music and my mind wanders. I wonder what it would be like if I threw my phone in the river?

09.17.23

I sold my bike yesterday. It wasn’t any kind of monumental transaction, but it did leave me without a bike in one particular category and it feels weird. I haven’t gone without a bike like this as an adult to date. It definitely feels like there is something missing. I suppose it’ll all be over soon, as I order a replacement for it this morning. One goes out, one comes in. It’s a responsible way to have things. It keeps the clutter down. Before today I had always overlapped the things in the transition. Maybe this means I’m growing?

09.16.23

Words are our way to interpret and communicate our reality. Words are our everything. Without them we have no identity. We have no understanding. We have nothing. Or do we? Are all of these words just a lie we tell ourselves? Where are we, anyway?

09.15.23

I am forty five years old. I have three children. I live full time in Minneapolis. I don’t align with any particular political party. I aim away from violence. I intend for goodwill and widespread peace. I have fears and insecurities that seem to fade with age. I practice self-awareness. I practice letting go. I have grey hair. I try to maintain a moderate level of fitness by running, riding bikes and going to the gym. I try and eat a variety of foods. I start every day with black coffee. I try to drink a large amount of water every day. I am grateful more often than not. I am happy.

09.14.23

Morning light cracks the horizon to the east. A foursome walks down from the north and toward the dawn. Another solo bus stop patron. The bus comes, collects and leaves. It’s unending and it’s life.

09.13.23

I spent the better part of an hour looking out and the giant grass incline that led back to the party. Somehow, I had been separated from the group as I was searching for whatever it was that I was searching for. Ultimately I ended up catching a ride in the back of a clapped-out PT Cruiser, which, to my surprise, had a pretty hard time driving back up the hill. None of it really mattered because the space between narrowed almost instantly and by the time we got back up the festival had broken up and most folks were headed home. This dream space has been an exciting one for the last few days. It’s been real neat and I’ve been looking forward to where I’ll go next.

09.12.23

I drove up to Marlborough Canyon last night and had dinner with a doctor from Mayo Clinic. He was rude in every kind of way and had something to impress upon the rest of us with the way he masquered his cous cous around as something entirely different. All that aside, the bike shop was nice and the folks inside were pleasant. They had a lot of pool tables for such a small space and it didn’t really make sense in the moment…and yet somehow it did. Anyway, I never went into the canyon because the entrance was blocked by cigarettes and a mother pedaling her children around in a front-loading cargo bike.

09.11.23

Another round of red meat into the cast iron. Reused potatoes and a couple of reels sent to the kid. Plenty of anxiety before the meeting today and for no good reason. I am not intimidated. I am not concerned for your wellbeing outside of your own inability to get out of your way. Write down the words. Walk the walk. Do the things. Take no shit. Fear is the thing that immediately precedes experience. Anxiety and self-doubt are the things that immediately precede confidence. We go forward. Everything becomes easier with repetition. This is nature.

09.10.23

Coffee table wood busted into splinters. Broken shingles and a lawn mower with twisted wheels. It was a choice to walk out and one that shouldn’t be leveraged against expectations. Broken hips and CPR. Fear overrides everything. Fear will always win. Fear will always win. Every time. Fear and insecurity under the umbrella of ego. It’ll make your choices for you. It’ll stifle your growth. It’ll bury your relationships.

What are you so afraid of? Being alone? It’s inevitable. Everyone ends up alone. Everyone. Nobody dies with another. Everyone dies by themselves. Practice letting go. Practice not seeking affirmation. Practice just being and being okay with it.

09.09.23

I see you there in your ivory bathroom dancing on the edge of the tub. I see you there in the weeds of your backyard wandering endless through the ant hills. I see you there in your living room standing over your bike. Get in the van. Go out for sushi. Six and then ten. You’re lost, aren’t you son? Elm Creek on a Saturday and seven stitches in the chin. Cut everything out back into smaller pieces and throw it in the fire. Someday you’ll learn. Someday the pancakes won’t taste right. Someday is Sunday and Sundays are for lunch. Load the pistols. Smoke the cigarettes. Stuff it all inside.

09.08.23

Take a few minutes. Write a few words. Paint a cardboard sign and hang it on a street sign. We’re out of office today and will be tomorrow. We’re getting older and getting bigger. We decay at a certain point and our years get cut short not because we’re dead on the outside, but because we died on the inside all those years ago. Neglect the body. Neglect the mind. It’ll be your own funeral you’re early to. The dogs know it. The birds know it. Let em lick your face and eat from your hand. It’ll be the end of you.

09.07.23

I can remember lying in an empty room with my feet outstretched toward the southernmost wall. All of the furniture had been moved out and the only thing that remained was a blue Hawaiian shirt hanging on a wooden hanger in the closet. This place was transformative in so many ways and stifling in so many others. I entered it broken and left there the same. For years I wallowed in my own existence and strapped my malaise to the back of that horse from the gables. I was young once, too. Young and impressionable. Onward.

09.06.23

We are all walking toward the cliff that is our death. Not one of us knows exactly when it will come. Many of us fear that moment. Those of us that don’t likely won’t reach that moment with a head and heart full of regret. It comes for all is us. It is unavoidable. This is the impermanence of life. This is the impermanence of everything. Nothing lasts forever and therefore nothing shall be held in such a way that it should. Everything comes and everything goes. Let everything go and everything becomes much clearer.

09.05.23

Running. Driving. Riding. Driving. Running. Driving. Laptops. Phones. Internet. Calling. Wondering. Estimating. Inquiring. Listening. Visiting.

09.04.23

Woke up under black hills and clear blue skies. Couch cushions spilled onto the floor and the toe pulled off the air conditioner. It’ll be an easterly voyage today and there’s a realistic possibility the Texas van remains. Pineapples on the door under the Harley symbol and everybody took yesterday off. Go and find god they said and try not to get stung by the bees. Fill in the pool and settle in across from the roast beef factory. One bedroom, two bedroom, three bedroom, four. The plants are dying, but they’re not. It’s almost the west here and I’m almost rested.

09.03.23

Race morning. Into the hills from the gun and then it’s up, up, up. Fifty miles into and through a lollipop. Long time listener, first time caller. Sleep on the couch and pull the cushions midstream. The bike is ready, but the rider is not. One coffee. Charge the phone. Pedal, pedal, pedal.