Stuff is crazy, man. Life is full to bursting, in the coolest and scariest ways, and by that I mean only the very best, most nourishing and fulfilling ways. Trust and gratitude, gratitude and trust. It’ll all be fine.
Day after day I have ideas of things that need writing. Most days I sketch them in the nearest spiral notebook and sometimes jam out a few sentences on Facebook, but the full depth and breadth and height of life will never be captured this way.
Even when I want to sit and spend the sunrise hours writing, it’s really time to feed the animals, play fetch with Klaus, drink my last cup of quite strong perfect coffee, make the beds (ours is a two-bedroom marriage now, it’s cool like being bi-coastal but together), start some laundry, scoop some manure into the compost, and BAM it’s finally time to lace up and run some miles. Preferably before my stomach starts growling obscenely and I cave and eat breakfast first. Fasted miles are my favorite.
Also, am I losing weight? Getting speedier? Slimming down or not? Do people care, should I blog about that journey? I don’t know.
This morning I ran at the farm. Our sandy hills are doing their very best to dry out from all the glorious early spring rain, but they are still quite slick and mushy. Lost in thought, about halfway through mile three, my toe caught a slick tree root and somehow I fell up in the air instead of straight down to the ground. My mind commanded to my body, “Go limp! Go limp!” and my body obeyed. Not only did I go limp; I managed, at the apex of this weird tumble, to twist myself so that in a slow-motion moment I landed on my cush posterior, facing the sky. I just laid there looking at the pulsing blue, relaxed because I luckily had the presence of mind, mid-twist, to hit pause on my Garmin. Pace records are suddenly very important to me. Apparently as important as not crashing my porcelain teeth on a slab of red rock. Or this steel pipe gate pictured below. Anyway it was a very Matrix-James Bond moment for me, and the only damage was some damp red earth scuffing my clean white compression socks. My posterior is unharmed, as are my porcelain front teeth, etcetera.
Then midday, my friend Amber visited the farm for the first time, and we had the best real conversation. In less than an hour we dove deep and swam easily through topics like sex education for young women, honesty and transparency in the coming of age, marriage and how men apologize differently than women, motherhood, the importance of treasuring the exact chapter you’re in, how beautiful mundanity can be, smoking meats, and much more. I met Amber through beekeeping and learned that she practically lives around the corner from our farm, which happens so rarely I get quite excited when it does. I have the most wonderful feeling that she and I will be spending more happy time together this spring and summer.
My dog is in love with her. Awkwardly, I am afraid.
With what remains of today I plan to finish a small pile of ironing, sew one apron, and get a pork tenderloin started for a late supper. Then the chicken coop gets a serious cleaning and fresh supply of nesting straw and the middle field gets as many scrapes from my manure shovel as time will allow. More friends are visiting this afternoon, and I am pretty happy about that.
The thing is, really, it’s fine. All those thoughts that swirl and pester us, the What-If needles, all the things that keep our hearts frothed up, they are under control. Let’s go ahead and relax. Enjoy the day whether it’s busy or mundane. Love your people. Say your prayers. Trust God with the stuff you cannot (and should not) control.
Blogging again soon, maybe. After Klaus is done snuggling my feet.
It’s better than fine. It’s perfect.