A surprise Indian summer sixty-five degree day here in Vermont.
So I threw my Kayak on the roof of my car, drove to Lake Champlain in my wetsuit and paddled straight out from shore like a bullet, trying not to keel over in 3 foot swells. The bald eagle that built its nest on the 50-foot island that's just off shore followed me, then swerved back home as I passed too far out into the lake.
Sometimes I struggle with the contradictions of my life, between the virtual world we are creating at Ello, and the stark reality of finding myself alone, out in the middle of a lake in waves I'm not sure I can handle, tipping my boat to a 35 degree angle as I struggle to turn into the wind.
Or finding myself driving too fast through the last golden leaves of Autumn while blasting Elvis Costello's Riot Act too loud, which brings up memories of torn jeans and rage and dirty city streets long after midnight, many years ago, 3000 miles away from this blessed spot.
I can't say what's more real, the experience of writing this, or jagged memories from a few decades ago, or the music in my ears, or finding myself half-way under water, too far from shore, still a little angry, and wondering how the hell I got here.