It lives!

Winter                                                                 Moon of the Long Nights

cub cadetAh. In my world mechanical victories, no matter how small, are worthy of celebration. After a snowfall on Wednesday and Thursday, I decided to crank up the snowblower. It had not been started since the end of winter in 2016. My knee surgery coincided with the first few storms of the season last year. It wouldn’t start. Just cranked and cranked. Sigh.

I put gas stabilizer in it at the same time I changed the oil at the end of the 2016 season, so I thought it might just start. I was wrong. An old O2 cannula from Kate’s machine went into the gas tank, gas came out, flowing slowly into a red plastic gas can. Once I’d drained the old gas, in went the fresh gas. Punch the o.f. friendly electric start button. Voila!

The oil was a bit stiff and it took a few passes for things to get warmed up and used to the idea of having to go to work-hmm, sorta like me-but soon the snow flew out of the chute as the cub cadet and I wandered up and down the driveway. Now the driveway is clear and the solar snow shovel will finish off the rest.

Yeah!

On the Path

Winter                                                                Moon of the Long Nights

86Winter break continues. The identity crisis has passed as I knew it would. The crisis focused on my passive choices, taking the path of least resistance after college and I did do that, giving up my intentionality about career to a socialization experience with clergy-focused fellow students. But. Within that decision to just follow the education I had chosen as a way to get out of a dead end job and an unhappy marriage, I was intentional.

The threads that continued from high school through college, into seminary and afterward during my fifteen years in the church were three: a commitment to political action, a desire for spiritual growth, and a thirst for learning. These same threads continue today though political work has taken a diminished role to the other two. When I met Kate, writing became my chosen focus and added itself to the other three as life long pursuits.

My career, if that’s the right word, has involved expressing in whatever context I’ve found myself, a journey on four ancientrails: act, grow, learn, write. The container has not mattered. And, it still doesn’t. That was the piece I was missing the other day, a brief regression, a going back to pick up something lost. Found.