Tuesday, February 17, 2009

notes on a February evening

Do you remember this Tom Paxton song?

It's a long and a dusty road
It's a hot and a heavy load

And the folks that I meet ain't always kind

So are bad, some are good

Some have done the best they could

Some have tried to ease my troubling mind

And I can't help but wonder where I'm bound

Where I'm bound

And I can't help but wonder where I'm bound

I have wandered thru this land

Just a doing the best I can

Tryin to find what I was meant to do

And the people that I see

Look as worried as can be

And it looks like they are a wondering too
... (etc)

Sometimes these lyrics are, for me, like a vinyl record of the old days: stuck in a crevice, refusing to move past the refrain. You can see their appeal on February days, can't you? There you are, in a state of replay, stuck in the same old habits, with the same old complaints about how you’re not getting to where you want to be.

Perhaps it is just a February thing.

003 copy

I stopped going to the gym today. Just like that. I had been going every day, all year and then today, I said no. I’m sure you would understand: long day, super long. Everything seemed extraordinarily long, like nothing more could be done with it.

On an upbeat note, I had dinner with a friend who is very very happy. To spend a February evening with someone who exudes joy is a rare privilege. I thought afterward – if you have pent up joy, spill it now, because others need it even more than you do. If you don’t have that within you – okay, hang in there. Preferably in the company of others who do.