Once I got moving again, I’ve not done much writing. Some of that is the result of getting into a hectic schedule again. Getting from one place to the next then hiking till I’m exhausted in order to see everything. I can’t say that I’m not enjoying it though, and I haven’t a lot of profound thoughts about my journey.
I have become very comfortable with being alone. On a few occasions I’ve told myself a joke. I hope that’s not a sign of any sort of deeper problem. And there was no one else to tell. I’ve even gotten used to social media aloneness. WiFi and decent cell service have been hard to come by, and so I’ve not shared pictures on Instagram and such in a number of days. (When I get WiFi again, should I go back and catch up on my pictures or just not worry about it?) Fortunately I’ve been able to get enough texts through to let my wife know I’m alive.
I would have thought that I’d be feeling lonely by now and craving conversation with someone. I’ve had some nice conversations here and there but not because I sought them out. They just happened. Maybe my true religious calling is as a hermit, a modern-day, desert father. But I’d want to make sure it was in a cooler type desert, at least at night. I can’t sleep when it’s really hot, and I’m assuming that desert fathers don’t have air conditioning. I know my tent doesn’t.
Another surprise is that I don’t really miss eating they way I do at home. I tend to eat a good breakfast and supper and then nibble and graze the rest of the time, right up until bedtime. But I can’t carry very much food on the motorcycle and there isn’t a pantry with crackers and snacks to munch on all evening long.
That I’ve hardly noticed the lack of snacks makes me wonder about all that eating at home. I’ve not felt hungry without all the snacking, although I have lost a good deal of weight. Some people might be delighted but my wife thinks I’m too thin already.
If, for some reason, I were trying to lose weight, I would be feeling hungry all the time. But here I am losing more weight than I should, and I feel no pangs of hunger at all. What does that say about the things that motivate and drive us?
There’s a line at the end of Voltaire’s Candide (It’s been forever since I read it so I’m not sure I can quote it.) where Candide says, “But we must tend out garden.” It seems I’ve been so busy tending my garden that the things that typically clamor for my attention have a hard time getting through.
This garden tending is a different sort of busyness than usually occupies my life. Modern people tend to live hectic lives and then seek solace in “leisure time.” But what if that’s not how it works. What if we just need to tend out garden?
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