halting the aversion

The holidaze has come and gone, a blur of mostly family and some friends, a lot of eating, a touch of music with an old compatriot, some reading and sleeping, and a long, luxurious respite from work. I traveled by train and car, but have been off the bike for far too long now. Worked out at the gym, tried my hand at pedal steel guitar, cooked and ate with some of my favorite people. I received an unexpected gift intended to enhance my birding, which I haven’t done in about a month now, besides car birding, and some very meager backyard birding. Christmas Day did unexpectedly bring to the yard jays, cardinals, doves, sparrows, and even a junco or two. We’ve seen glimpses of a hawk (probable Cooper’s) in the trees across the street. Meanwhile, with the close of the old year and the dawn of the new comes the inevitable reflection. I don’t make resolutions, but it’s hard not to stare ahead at a blank slate of 365 days before you and not scratch around in your head for some ideas of what you want to see rise up from that expanse of time. Personally I know I need to stop treading water and start making headway on the changes I yearn to see in my future. No more averting the eyes. My passivity knows no bounds and the time to corral it is way past due. I need to spend the afternoon, as Annie Dillard says, because I can’t take it with me. There is a path that I am supposed to be on and I will claw my way through the brambles to get to it.

darker ends to days

Well, I spent much of the week battling illness. It did enable me to catch up on my reading, while also keeping me away from work, which is always a good thing. I felt incredibly restless at times, in between catnaps and long stretches of reading, causing me to marvel again at how elastic a day can seem when there is no set agenda. Time off to myself leads to reflection, of course. I’ve neglected this blog, my attempts at musical expression, and inevitably a few other things (keeping in touch with people comes to mind). I could make excuses, but they’ve exhausted their validity by now. I have a house now and that is incredibly awesome. However, I’m deeper in the city and I miss my feathered friends at the window feeder. The overwhelming majority of feeder birds in my backyard now are House Sparrows and Mourning Doves, with only occasional chickadees and cardinals. The age-old seesaw continues to teeter and totter: city versus country, socialite versus hermit. My mind expands but I’m still really just going nowhere. In short, not a whole lot has changed. There’s a strange sort of comfort in that. Maybe it’s getting older and becoming more comfortable in my own skin. It’s like I feel less inclined to explain myself; my funny ways are just part of who I am. And I’m okay with that.

>new growth

>I feel some delicate new shoots begin to grow. I must be careful to shelter them from the storms around me. I only hope that I am not too thin a layer of soil for strong roots to take hold.

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