Wanderings through life, landscapes, and occasional loopiness. So pull up a log and have a bit of a sit-down ’round the virtual campfire.

Spring Fever

You have SO got it. Don’t EVEN try to lie. C’mon. You’ve got Colbie Caillat on your iPod and you’re dreaming of West Coast beaches and your beat-up cargo shorts and Birks and you tell yourself that this is the year you fall in love with yourself, the year you move to LA and learn to surf. The year you get out of that rut you’ve been in, pack up your vehicle, and just drive off toward the sunset. Or maybe the sunrise.

And then you look out the window at the gray, shitty weather and the snow floating to the street below and you think: “Jesus God WHEN is this going to end?” And you go to your closet and you put your shorts on ANYWAY and your Birks and your tee and you dance around the house singing along to Colbie because your body, friends, KNOWS it’s spring time. And you cannot deny the natural rhythms of the world. In this hemisphere, north of the equator, it’s spring time and every little cell that fires messages through your infrastructure knows it. They’re ready for a beach party.

As am I. Sign me up. I know every freakin’ song on Colbie’s first album and yeah, I’ve been wearing shorts in the house since February, desperate for the first hints of warmer weather, for the presage of summer. Desperate to get on with it, to shed the baggage that winter seems to hide in your closet.This past winter has worn me down in a lot of ways. It’s left me empty at times, trying to make sense of life and how fragile it is, how things can change in the space of minutes and how everything you thought you might have a handle on you suddenly realize isn’t your damn carry-on anyway so you let it go, leave it on the tarmac as you board a flight that you don’t have a ticket for.

Sometimes you’re left to your own devices in the middle of uncharted territory. This past winter has been a topography I know in some ways, but I don’t recognize in others. It’s the buckled and blasted western vista of myself, terrain at once familiar but also different than the last time I traversed it. Parts of it have a hell of a great view. Other parts…not so much. But that’s okay. It’s spring time, after all.

Time to reassess, rejuvenate, reacquaint. This spring IS the advent of my new year, the recognition that yeah, I’ve got work to do and things to sort through. I have some grief I need to acknowledge and lives I need to celebrate, including mine. This spring, more than many others, I feel the stirrings of new beginnings and the solidity of knowing the road I need to take.

So I’m taking this old baggage out of the car–I don’t need it anymore. And I’m bringing the things that serve me best and reflect the inner reaches of my deep-down. I’ve got my camping gear, too, just in case. And my mountain bike. Oh, and look at this. A surfboard.

I’ve always wanted to learn to surf.

It’s spring time, after all.

Surf's Up

Surf’s up, y’all. Let’s go.

Spring Fever

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