I have posted just three prior days this month. Two of them were Wednesdays. As an actual Wednesday’s child, perhaps it’s destiny. Guess what day it is today?
I’ve been wanting to write more than I have – I’ve even had more Internet than I might’ve expected. Somehow, however, the inspiration has been limited. I have been tired. I have found my already trying struggles with sleep made all the more wearying by waking up in a different place most every morning (or middle of the night). I am both hopeful that my inspiration is storing up for winter and dining lightly in the meantime and trepid that I have somehow been sapped and zapped entirely. The latter seems utterly unlikely, but the former all too convenient, no?
My green comp book still remains unsullied by language, my mind an uproar of milder things than the trip embarked. Or past things. Or non sequitorial things. I have been having a predominantly fabulous time – don’t get me wrong via my temporary tone. The Canyon is always and forever one of my all-time favorite places on Earth. Infinitely spiritual, challenging, magnificent, overwhelming. I may have actually taken 500 pictures there alone. It makes for a mesmerizing feast of visual overwhelm on my parents’ relatively new giant screen.
My parents are busy and with a latest project, this more of the rabble-rousing variety than the entrepreneurial. It at once makes it harder to fully commune with them and happier to see them involved and engaged in something they find inspiring. I find myself more tired as a result of the relaxation that comes with feeling at home. And tomorrow I depart again.
There is more to say, much more to see, but for now a Wednesday note of my persisting state and forward progress will have to do. I have been a bit melancholic in the last 24 hours, prompted by rehash and review of experiences that have not yet settled into their mostly concluded state. My angst with some of the order of operations at Glide, my anticipation of the upcoming balancing act of trying to work as hard for my own efforts and long-desired outcomes as I could for others. Trying to hold on to every location, every person, every turn of events that in this journey would alone be sufficient for a trip entire. And yet they come, fast and fleeting, back to back to back to back.
Sometimes it is enough to live, knowing the reflection will catch up with the events soon enough. Soon enough.