Although I have taken a few walks since my last post, I have obviously not been back here to write anything. Reasons? Well, there are the usual: I'm tired, don't have time, uninspired, what to write about, and the idea that I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to actually write.
BUT, last night as I dwindled off to sleep, I succumbed to my wife's habit of ending the day by reading a book. I looked through the stack that she keeps, and saw some old favorites as well as some new library offerings. I thumbed through several different synopsis and pages only to ultimately land on one of my all-time-best-books-of-the-world titles, Travels with Charlie, by Steinbeck. I've read this book several times, but due to my incredibly sieve-like memory, it always seems new to me. Sometimes I only get a few chapters in and then lose interest, other times I am sad to have to finish it.
Last night it was like an ice cold glass of water after a hot day of yard work! Instantly I was thinking and wishing that I was Steinbeck and could tell my small journeys' thoughts as adequately as the legend himself did his longer trek. sadly, I'm no Steinbeck. But obviously it motivated me enough to at least write this small ode of inspiration. Sometimes the right inspiration is what is needed to keep the ball rolling, or set it in a new direction.
Also, to anyone who sees life as a journey, I cannot recommend this book enough. It so eloquently sums up the traveler's urges that plague us seekers of something and somewhere new, as well as drilling to the deep satisfaction we feel when on the move or nestled in a nook along the way.