How Much Fudge Can One Man Stand?

It is raining this morning on Mackinac Island. It feels like Autumn is here. A good day to take a break from running. Carla and I slept almost 9 1/2 hours. This place is very mellow, quiet, there is something about living with less: no cars, no industry. The only transportation on the island, horses and bikes.

A little history of Mackinac: it was first inhabited by the Huron Indians, it then became a French Missionary Outpost (founded by Father Marquette), later, the British took over as a result of the 8 Years War, finally, the Americans claimed it in a treaty following the war of 1812.

It has evolved from Fish (the Huron Indians) , to Fur (the French Trappers), to Fish and Fur (the British), to finally, Fudge (Americans). This place has more fudge shops than humanity could possibly need or want.

The land and sky and water: beautiful, overwhelming, almost sacred. The Huron knew this was a special place. The fudge shops cannot diminish it.

Carla and I are living 'high on the hog;' eating well, taking walks, meditating, reading. I have plunged into George Orwell's 'Homage to Catalonia.' I am already hooked. I think it is a great book about the Spanish Civil War and much else. Orwell discusses all the 'big ideas' and ideologies, but ultimately it is a record of one man looking at the world from a place of clarity and truth. It is a rare and enlightening perspective, one that seems sorely lacking in today's madness and hurly burly.