Thoughts I Have While Driving

• Wuh oh! 20 miles over the posted limit again.
• Where is the next potty?
• What do I want to eat for (lunch, dinner, breakfast)?
• Thank God for green. So many different greens leaves, grass, jello. How do I mix the paints for this green, for that one? One can’t even buy the pigments to mix all the greens I see! Wow!
• Where Is Sammy? Sammy could find a hiding place in an empty bathtub. There are many hiding places in a packed car.
• What is that raffa-snaffa fool trying to do? Get off the road, you raffa-snaffa!
• I LOVE TO DRIVE!!!

The above occupy about 7% of all my driving time. The other 93% is spent examining thoughts, ideas, trying to understand, making things fit; explaining to the dashboard until I have a smidgen of understanding; arguing by analogy until things make sense. Examining the whichness of what and how to un-screw the inscrutable. I do pretty clear thinking while driving, if I fight through my mental muddle to some clarity.

These are the things I look at while driving:

• Steeples. Don’t know why I love them but I do. I love to see the proportion, building style, age, the grace of architecture. Steeples catch my eye all across the landscape. The right steeple and I drive over to see the church.
• The care with which some people plant their yard is heartwarming; a clump of iris surrounding a mail box post; an intricate checkerboard of pink and white alyssum; a small handful of raucous tulips in a straight line along a porch rail; hugely bountiful peonies, wearing that bed-head look. I could go on and on.
• The animal headcount in Little-furry-guys-vs.-I-81. I was influenced by Pogo, can’t get over if not identifying with, at least having sympathy fo,r Rackety-Coon-Chile, ingenuous and totally loveable. Too bad.
• Anything far away. We drove the skyline drive last Saturday. And anything that is partly hidden in mist.
• Anything new, that I haven’t seen before. That’s why I prefer not to drive the interstate, US 11 rather than I-81, and US 1 rather than I-95.
• The regression of seasons as I go farther north. I left my annuals, planted in the fall, already fully blown and somewhat past their time. Bulbs and azaleas are finished in Virginia and just starting in upstate New York. In Canada the people that are not boating plant their annuals this holiday long weekend. The days stay light longer and longer and the mornings get light earlier and earlier the farther north I go.


Nice.

This year’s first walkabout takes me and the dogs to central Virginia for a week at Monroe (http://www.monroeinstitute.org). And then up to Lowville, NY to see Aunty Tam, my mother’s youngest sister, her collection of descendents and their descendents, and then to Sudbury, Ontario, to visit BFF, Andrea. Not sure of the return route.

I subscribe to the theory that all life is a school. That one can (and should) learn from every event. May or may not be true, but it is a fun way to live. And I actually do believe that I am growing as I learn.

Here are some things I learned getting ready for the trip:
• Completing a chunk of prep gives me energy to attack the next chunk.
• I make BIG mistakes when I am tired.
• I don’t need anywhere near all the stuff I have.
• I don’t need all the stuff I’ve packed, but even if I don’t use it, I would feel naked without it (for instance the bag of art supplies).
• I don’t need to travel with my dogs – it might even be easier to travel without them – but (1) I don’t know what else to do with them that they would like half as much as a life made up totally of car rides and new trees to smell, and (2) most of the time I love to have them along.
• I am very strong in terms of endurance – and sometimes even patience – but I am not as strong as I have been.


And on the trip:
• I am afraid of unknown things. For instance today I went well out of my way in order to find a Motel 6. See I know Motel 6 will be clean and will always take my dogs. I have had some really bad experiences on other walkabouts relying on chance to find a dog friendly motel, stopping again and again, getting tireder and tireder, even dinging my bumper because I was too tired to see the pole and finally etc., etc. Sufficient to say I rely on Motel 6.

I got a real gem from packing that fits into my thinking around the Four Yellow Plates Consciousness (which is the current endeavor, read earlier posts). I have always had trouble packing the toiletries kit for any trip. I know I need the basics – toothbrush and paste, deodorant, shower puff, body wash, shampoo, conditioner – but what about the other stuff – facial cleanser, moisturizer, which this, which that?

For many people, this would seem elementary, a no brainer, yes? But I figured it out for me. I KNOW why I don’t know. It’s because I do not have a routine. And I don’t have a routine because I don’t have a clear understanding of the process, or of the desired or possible result. Makes sense, doesn’t it? I can’t narrow down what I will need if I don’t know what I do need.

I can’t tell what I will need of saved information until I know what I will do with saved information. I can’t tell what I will need of broken plates until I know what I will make with broken plates.
• Of clothing, until I know where I will wear it
• Of clothing, until I know who I want to play at being in it
• Of books, until I know what I will want to know
• Of books, until I know what I want to do, or where I want to be transported.

So I need to examine every pile and collection and make sure I know what I want to do with that pile - the results and a plan to get there - then everything else can go. Winnowing down my “gotta” list, my “someday” list, my “oughta” lists until they are less of a burden and I have achieved Four Yellow Plates Consciousness in how I think about myself and what I expect of myself.

I thought the trip would put a temporary halt to my FYP work, but instead it has given me some serious clarity.

On the road going north

I'm at Monroe. The work is intense, the people are a delightful cross section of engaging and bright folks who are very willing to laugh and to love.

This photo I took on the road. A truck of honey bees being carried from Florida to New Jersey for sale there are being kept alive while the truck is not moving by a liberal mist (getting gassed up). In motion, the moving air keeps them cool and alive. The man and woman whose truck it was were way cool amd very nice people. Good luck to them (and to all the honey bees in the world!)