"be still like a delicate symphony eternity could take a moment"
Someone put this string of words together on the refrigerator at work. They've been there for a while, I just never thought much about what it might mean. I think I get it now though, and I find the sentiment comforting. It's so easy to go through life impatient and results focused. Frustration comes when you feel you're not moving fast enough towards your goals, but in reality everything is moving at nature's intended pace. When I become impatent I just need to remember to be still, eternity could take a moment.
Soon I will say goodbye to my little "Emily Dickinson" apartment on the near east-side. This apartment, (which is actually the top floor of a two story house built in the 1930's with most of its orignal fixtures including pedestal sink, tub, brick red plastic tile lining the bathroom walls and silver radiators embellished with beautiful scroll designs) has served me well over the year I've been renting. Having moved here after my divorce, this was my first solo apartment in five years. I brought new books, boys and friends to my white walled cocoon, and now I'm getting ready to re-imagine my life in another space.
I walk up to the house. You stay behind on the sidewalk and watch as I approach the unshuttered window by the front door. It's dark and luckily there are no sensor lights to spotlight the stranger creeping across the lawn. The visible fish tank anchored in the hallway glows blue and gold. Shadows of tiny waves play on the adjacent wall. The fish glide and pause, jet and dive, performing for the window watcher. My back is turned to you. You shift the weight of your stance and yawn, silently observing the light from the window flaring faintly around my shoulders to the crown of my head.
The oppressive summer heat has returned; Which means I'm painting. Which is to say I'm delving deep into the dark crevices of my psyche. I'm no painter. I just like playing with colors. I'm not being humble here, just honest. I like to layer, but only because when I sit down to paint I have no idea what I'm going to come up with, I'm wandering through splotches of color. My greatest fear in painting is to paint something that looks like it should be hung in an office, hotel or sold at a second hand store (and I'm not talking about the bad stuff that's so awesome you have to have it). When I feel myself veering into this cringe worthy territory I do something drastic (like take my hand and swipe it over the wet paint, blurring it out with more color until I have a "new canvas.") I get more frustrated as I go along, and deeper I go into those dark places of fear and loathing. A friend recently told me something I've heard before. "It's not the destination, it's the journey." Most everyone is familiar with those small words of encouragement. It's a fitting reminder for any kind of discouraging situation, and I suppose it's true enough. But it made me think about my own journey, that big great and sometimes terrible life journey, which has been more of a state of senseless wandering and sporadic episodes of fitful progress or digression (the latter seems to be more of a common state for me). What I'm trying to say is that I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time, and when I reach this realization I panic and try to do something, anything to find peace of mind. Usually I'm able to convince myself that I'm "okay" and making the "right" decisions for my life...that my wandering is more of a stream of consciousness kind of approach to life rather than taking aimless strokes on a canvas with an increasingly thick layer of paint. These words of consolation have become less reassuring with age. Which reminds me, I'm running out of paint. Paint isn't cheap, at least not the kind I prefer to work (play) with. I am learning though, that if I let the layers dry between dabs and swipes I use less paint, the colors are more true and it's a little easier to navigate what I'm wandering through.
What I've been up to the past few months... Good turnout and everyone seemed to have a great time! Three things to note: No fowl was harmed in this race, the Yaris and its occupants did not get sent to jail for driving down to picnic point and back, and the lost canoe was found! Is everyone ready for the next race?
"When crossing State Street, it’s generally a good idea to look both ways before stepping off the curb. This precaution holds true not only for buses, taxis and delivery trucks rumbling from Lake Street to the Capitol, but also for all of the bicyclists weaving between vehicles. Including the speed-hungry bike messengers and delivery riders who expertly maneuver around all obstacles. Reverently hailed by those in need of a nimble delivery and oftentimes slightly despised by pedestrians and drivers alike, these bike jockeys throw caution to the wind in the name of speed. What most don’t know about these bikers are the jocular rivalries that exist between them, with the question of who can deliver the most the fastest at their root.
An “alley cat” is an opportunity for the speed- and shortcut-inclined to unite in a relatively friendly, yet rather competitive challenge of speed and strength. Akin to a race-paced scavenger hunt, these events draw many aggressive bikers, though others prefer to leisurely imbibe along the way, picking and choosing which checkpoints to stop at. These races are a way to bring the biking community together in a mock-up of a typical workday.
Madison hosted its largest alley cat yet Saturday, dubbed “Don’t Kill the Messenger,” with participants not only from the city itself, but also from other cities such as Chicago. In fact, the winner, Nico Deportago-Cabrera, is a member of the Chicago Cuttin’ Crew and the winner of the North American Cycle Courier Championship men’s race. For his pains he won a golden Aerospoke wheel. As for local contestants, Madisonian Manny Wagnitz of Scram Couriers earned himself a pair of Velocity Deep-V rims for his third place finish.
The event started at 7:45 p.m. in a misty Burrows Park with the distribution of manifests, checklists of tasks to be completed for points. The lists included various checkpoints, which participants biked to in order to gain points, as well as items that could be collected or completed for more points. About 60 riders braved the chilly, wet weather conditions and their myriad blinking bike lights could be seen racing throughout Madison’s streetscape.
The checkpoints sprawled around the city, from Picnic Point to Warner Park At the infamous Bascom Hill, riders arrived at the Abe Lincoln statue and were given two options: bike downhill, over the pedestrian bridge, around the third level of Humanities and back up, or walk the same route minus the Humanities loop. For an extra point, participants could carry a gallon of water with them on their trip. Due to the slippery weather, many riders chose to walk, though some persevered to conquer Bascom by bike.
At Tenney Park, tennis court lights emanated like beacons for riders who came to try to score on a seasoned bike polo goaltender, in hopes of crossing off not only a stop on their manifests but also gaining a five-minute bonus.
Among other stops, participants could venture out to a windy Picnic Point bonfire, write four lines of love poetry at Espresso Royale’s lower location and “tip” cow-costumed humans. On the way, riders could carry cardboard boxes, pick up flags in a desolate cemetery, search for irreversibly ruined bike parts and tear envelopes off popular establishments for extra points toward their total. Once found, these items had to be carried on their person to the finish line, the Come Back In on Wilson Street. Upon arrival, riders handed in their wilted and water-stained manifests to be tallied.
The mood was jovial as they waited for announcement of the top scorers with beers in hand, exchanging stories and complaints of cramping muscles. As winners were announced, prizes distributed and proper congratulations made, the general disposition of the group didn’t waver much, as another gathering of Madison’s bike community and a few transplants ended."
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