I’ve been reticent about Tuesday’s election. I took a mindful pause to explore my feelings, to respond and not react. Not easy. Especially when almost everyone I care about is mourning.
My response was an essay I submitted to The Huffington Post. If I don’t hear from them, I’ll submit it to the Elephant Journal. I’m hoping the essay, Mindful Tips to Deal with an Unmindful President is timely enough that I’ll know sooner than later if it has commercial appeal.
In other news, Mortality paid me a visit yesterday.
I took a long, long walk with my friend Mel. We had lunch along the way. Later, I tripped. Uneven sidewalk. Slow motion. Hands out, preventing any serious damage. Physically.
I got up, instinctively looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, brushed myself off. I told Mel I was “okay, mostly embarrassed.”
Without getting too much in the weeds, I have “peroneal tendonosis.” One of the muscles on the outside of my right foot, the peroneal brevis, doesn’t work right. I don’t know why.
It is the muscle that helps to serve as your landing gear when the foot hits the ground as you walk or run. So I’m extremely susceptible to tripping. My doc says surgery is the only remedy. He said, when I’m tired of tripping he’ll perform it.
As far as carpe diem moments go, it could have been much, much worse.
In Starbucks this morning, Margaret, one of the regular baristas, walked up to me and said, “Happy Veteran’s Day.” She handed me a thick plastic cup they sell and said, “A present! Even if you’re not a veteran, I’m sure you know one.”
Then we hugged. She also gave a cup to a regular sitting at the table in front of me. Later, when he prepared to go, I jokingly remarked, “I was feeling special until I saw Margaret gave you a cup as well.”
He smiled, looked at his cup, turned to me and said, “You are special.” And then he left.
I’ve never talked with the man before. We’ve acknowledged each other’s presence with a nod and smile but that’s the extent of our interactions. It was the last thing I anticipated him saying. What a great way to start the day.
I’m in the middle of All The Light We Cannot See. It is the second book in a row I’ve read set in Europe before and during the second world war. I need to get away from this era. Too many parallels with the global political climate today.
I’ve raked in $16 on blogmutt. I have written five pieces. Two sold. Two in limbo and one rejected. It looks like it’ll be a while before I give up on Happy Hours with complimentary food.
Finally, Leonard Cohen shed his mortal coil today. His death is a reminder that I can have opposing emotions simultaneously. While I mourn his departure, I also celebrate his life and his art.
Stay in touch. Stay connected.
P.S. The title of the post is from a Leonard Cohen song. If you’re not familiar with it, use the Google and become so.
P.P.S. This is an acapella version of Hallelujah, written by Leonard Cohen, and brought to my attention by my cousin Joel. It is reminder of what extradoardinary musical instrument the voice is.