I suppose we all make plans of some sort. I buy tickets ahead of time for concerts or plays or whatnot. I have a general sketch of where I'll wind up on any given day or how the week will lay out. But the rest of it? A mystery.
Right now I'm on "stay-cation." Want a vacation, but can't really afford the traditional kind. So I accepted the restriction. But I'm in a wonderful old Victorian-era house for a couple of months this summer in a new section of town, so I declared it a vacation about half way throught the stay. A mental state in which I free myself to spend a little doing fun things. Concerts, ball games, fireworks at the riverfront, playing banjo with folks at the farmer's market. I didn't really plan any of it. It just unfolds by staying in the presence of the present presents.
And met some great kids this summer so far. Of late I've found myself in the company of several boys who have dads who have passed. Women watch over them and take care of them, but there's a need I sense here. Too many young boys are fatherless, either through death or abandonment. Too many men are too busy with careers and selfishness to spend a little time with these kids.
As the "stay-cation" days unfold, more opportunities come out.
There's so much all around us that we miss. With a new outlook, the familiar can seem like a vacation in a far off place.
We travel too much. We're in constant motion for no necessary purpose really, other than seeking the thrill of motion. Seminars, conferences, business trips, yak, yak, yak...
It is part of the addiction to oil. Cheap gas=cheap travel. But the long term consequences are washing up on shore.
If I did a traditional vacation, I would probably rent a place in some quaint, historic place with cobblestone streets. I'd go to some concerts, play some music, go to some outdoor Shakespeare, bike around some trails, hang out in some pubs, cook, go to some restaurants, take in a couple of movies.
And I'm doing it.
could have stayed and got aquainted
could have stopped and said hello
instead of rushing off to nowhere
instead of running for the door
now i've stop looking out the window
i've stop waiting by the phone
i've given up on givin'
i'll find a new love to explore.
Right now I'm on "stay-cation." Want a vacation, but can't really afford the traditional kind. So I accepted the restriction. But I'm in a wonderful old Victorian-era house for a couple of months this summer in a new section of town, so I declared it a vacation about half way throught the stay. A mental state in which I free myself to spend a little doing fun things. Concerts, ball games, fireworks at the riverfront, playing banjo with folks at the farmer's market. I didn't really plan any of it. It just unfolds by staying in the presence of the present presents.
And met some great kids this summer so far. Of late I've found myself in the company of several boys who have dads who have passed. Women watch over them and take care of them, but there's a need I sense here. Too many young boys are fatherless, either through death or abandonment. Too many men are too busy with careers and selfishness to spend a little time with these kids.
As the "stay-cation" days unfold, more opportunities come out.
There's so much all around us that we miss. With a new outlook, the familiar can seem like a vacation in a far off place.
We travel too much. We're in constant motion for no necessary purpose really, other than seeking the thrill of motion. Seminars, conferences, business trips, yak, yak, yak...
It is part of the addiction to oil. Cheap gas=cheap travel. But the long term consequences are washing up on shore.
If I did a traditional vacation, I would probably rent a place in some quaint, historic place with cobblestone streets. I'd go to some concerts, play some music, go to some outdoor Shakespeare, bike around some trails, hang out in some pubs, cook, go to some restaurants, take in a couple of movies.
And I'm doing it.
could have stayed and got aquainted
could have stopped and said hello
instead of rushing off to nowhere
instead of running for the door
now i've stop looking out the window
i've stop waiting by the phone
i've given up on givin'
i'll find a new love to explore.
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