wandering
**all the collages in this newsletter are available for purchase here.
I hate running, but I like the rhythm. The constant thrum of it. I like where my head gets when I'm doing it.
I'm not a real runner in the same way that I'm not a real writer. I run on a treadmill. Not on trails, or paths, or roads. I don't write books, or poems, or even essays really. I just make things with words. It's participation more than vocation. A prerequisite, not a gifting. It's just something I do. It's not an end, in and of itself. It's just a means that gets me to something.
Mornings are the worst part of my day. I never really sleep well. I never feel rested or refreshed when I wake. I never start the day with vibrancy. It makes sense to put the gym there. If you can't make it better, then maybe it's better to put all the worst things together in one place. It's best to eat the frog, they say. To close your eyes, bite down hard, and try not to think about the crunching and squashing that happens in the wake. I do it everyday but I still haven't acquired the taste.
I read on the treadmill. It's one of the few benefits of running in place. It helps me forget where I am, who I am, what time it is. It's helps me forget that despite all my effort and sweat equity, I'm not getting anywhere. That despite all my rage I am still just a rat paying a monthly membership to a cage.
Who knew the gym would be such an apt metaphor for how most of us are living these days?
The anthropologist, Jaime de Angulo describes a "curious phenomenon found among the Pit River Indians". He says that "under certain conditions of mental stress an individual finds life in his accustomed surroundings too hard to bear", and "Such a [person] starts to wander".
I suppose that's what I'm doing every morning.
Giving legs to the longing and loneliness. The frustration and exhaustion. The disillusionment and fatigue. With every footfall I'm pounding 99 theses into the doors that hold back the hopefulness and wonder that I've been too hurt and hollow to see.
I'm reading.
I'm running.
I'm wandering.
I'm praying with my feet.
Sometimes what you need most aren't the things you can find, but the things you can get lost in.
P.S. - ICAD - Day 248-250
**I made a video for my paid subscribers showing the process of making the collage above. You can find it here.
**special thanks to my friend Kirk Read (IG here) for sending me some of the collage fragments that I used in making the collage above.
I connect with what you post - from this last one esp- and a big Amen to this: Sometimes what you need most aren't the things you can find, but the things you can get lost in.
I like how you combine collage with words, your reflections, hard and heartbreaking at times but so real.
The idea of ​​the Pit River Indians is encouraging, wandering from time to time is a very good option.