back along the Mystic River

Two words come to me when I think about the ongoing weekday posts here in the Blog — weary and spacious.

There are days I feel I’ve said enough here. More than a year and a half, posting every weekday, often with the sense of no readership. Doing it because I said I’d do it. Nothing so compelling as a ‘vow’. Just a ‘decision’. Makes me feel a little weary. It’s enough. Then there are those days when I have a clear, pristine feeling, like an empty room is waiting for me to step into it, to fill it. With something, even three words will be okay if that’s what’s there to say, say, on a Wednesday. Way beyond an ‘opportunity’, nothing like an ‘obligation’, a “That’s what you said.” It’s more like a treasure hunt, maybe riding along the spring time Mystic River Parkway in a red ’65 Pontiac Lemans back in Medford, MA with my friend Steve, who likes to ask, “Now what?” So spacious.

That may be it. It’s a Thursday – or a Monday – and the Blog’s waiting. Waiting for Now what? And there’s brain cells spilling out all over the place.