For instance you have be THERE & THERE & THERE & THERE and pronto! Lots places to go in a short window of time. Just do it, and be quick about it. And at the same time it is cold, raw, windy, rainy, ok, it's not a rain of frogs, but you know, it is certainly raining cats & dogs, and you are out in the elements unprotected, exposed, vulnerable, on a bicycle, and on your feet, and you are truly, madly, deeply getting soaked to the freaking bone.
What to do? You just do it. And laugh. Yeah. It is sort of funny. And, well, no one is shooting at you, you will survive this day.
In fact, by late afternoon you are snuggled up on a big comfy couch with a fat little bulldog at your feet, reading Ken Kesey's great novel "Sometimes a Great Notion." (1962). It is truly a mad, burly beast of a novel. You had a bit of trouble at first, getting into the damn thing, but now it's got you hooked, and you are convinced it is some weird-ass masterpiece, even though most folks probably think of Kesey's first novel, not his second as a fabulous, phantasm of an American epic. In Kesey's Universe everything, human, animal, mineral is alive. You are at the 500 page mark and you are really tracking now.
And you took a book-break, put your headphones on and listened to Roxy Music's first album (1972) - an overstuffed masterpiece of many sonic flashes, and Roxy's beautiful baby "Avalon" (1982), pure, gorgeous sonic bubble-bath of sultriness. And you get so much joy and pleasure and inspiration from such great works of art. You know, like, great books and great records totally fill you up. They are important, powerful, necessary fuel. Totally restorative and essential. And you realize that this day kind of encapsulates, everything, the whole thing, the whole weird-ass experience of being alive: the testing, the challenging, the lounging, reading, listening, luxiouriously sinking into other states of consciousness.
Luckily, everything worked out. And, now, this morning, glorious sunshine. A new day. Amazing.
