Socks as Serviettes

This picture captures it fairly well I'd say just what we're up to. My feet throb, my calves ache. I'm hot and sticky and wondering just what the heck we're doing here. A friend recently said, "get your message and come home." The only message I could get right now would have to be screamed loud at the same speed I am going. Can one complain while on a holiday? It feels pretty obnoxious to do so, so I won't, but I can complain about the human condition, and more specificly, my human condition, which I might for just a moment(please indulge me). I am somehow driven beyond what is rational and reasonable. On and on I go doing what I don't want to do and not doing what I do want to do. I am habitually so busy my head buzzes, but with all the talk of quiet and contemplation and pilgrimage. I feel sick to reveal flaws that I feel are shameful. But, I am spurred on by another friend's comment after discovering some things about herself in counselling. "It's comforting." It's true. The truth sets us free. It is good to let some things hang out and realize that the world didn't shrink back in horror just because you did. Of course, if you are shrinking in horror I can't see, because I can have this private little cathartic experience in the privacy of my own computer glow. (Therein lies the weird side of blogging, but anyway)

So, there you have it. We are away from home and everyone we love, but I am still here. Me is following me around. So predictable. Wherever you go there you are sort of realizations have been striking me since week two, I just didn't tell you. But it's true. I've been here before, of course. It's all very familiar--all the attendant feelings that come with this state, which are far to weary to mention, but you know.

And right about now is when I start thinking about that phrase, "life is a journey," and just how much I hate it. Matt was the reluctant hearer of my recent diatribe on this lame (and other such empty, overused trite sayings). And now you're next--ha ha! People only say life is a journey when things didn't work out quite as planned or they keep repeating some terrible human foible, and it's all meant as some kind of comfort or explanation or, worse, an excuse. It does not comfort me to think of life as a journey, because I didn't choose the journey (though I don't resent that)and, much much more importantly, if I do choose a journey, I always choose it for the destination. Who says, "I want to go to the grocery store, let us take the longest possible route so to get there to enjoy the journey there"? No one.

So. I say that it is much more accurate to say that life is really all about the destination. Let us arrive! I am running to get somewhere, not because I like itm but if you do like it, that's OK, too. The journey is necessary, but that is not why I am here. I am thinking about the end, about the arrival (and I don't mean kids, mortgage, stuff, lots of stuff, lots of glory). So, try that. You'll like it.

So, what do you have to say about that?

PS. I am really loving my family and friends right now. You make running to the end a heck of a lot easier!