Yesterday I rode 47 miles to Port Ludlow and back. Sunlight peeking through a canopy of tall trees created dappled patterns on the quiet roads. Deep in thought, I noticed the forest, not the trees.
Often my rides serve as a crucible for creation. In my reverie on a beautiful day, a faucet opens and ideas become a steady stream of water. Some ideas I will later decide are good and pursue them; other ideas I will reject as ridiculous, or maybe too scary, perhaps only until the next long ride.
I have a job that is in many ways a dream job that I’ve been thinking about leaving. I’m vacillating. While riding yesterday, I thought of all that is good about the job, why I should stay and what I should do differently. I thought about email I would write to the VP, composing, re-writing, editing in my mind. Today I will recreate some version of that email and actually send it.
Often I think about what I want to say to people. Being an introvert, I don’t talk all that much, and most of what I think about saying never gets verbalized. That’s mostly a good thing because I’m an INFJ. The J is for judgemental.
Yesterday, I thought of all kinds of things to write in this blog, mostly stories from the old days that seem worth telling. Titles like Dennis, Martha, Anne Marie, Leaving Philadelphia may eventually appear in this blog.
