This morning I changed my daily habit. I shied away from my keyboard.
Just wasn’t in the mood.
I felt a need to read and think, not write. I found what my mind wanted in the words of two Substack writers who posted about my favorite topic.
Wanderlust in solitude.
These essays shook me to my core.
The first was written by a wonderful writer named Mike Rice. He’s new here, apparently. He only has 18 subscribers at the moment, but he is no beginner. That number will increase exponentially by the time you read this.
Mike wrote a piece about a young man who went to war and returned determined to see the real USA he had defended, the heart of the nation, where two-lane highways cross paths with people he could never have sought out.
“Years counted by rolls of the odometer.
Highways always under construction.
The right road folllowed more often than the wrong turn taken.
Dented, rusted, Kerouac and fumes.
The textures of a life wandered, wondered and lived
But not forgotten. “
No spoiler, but there is a twist in this wonderful story that you won’t see coming. It changed me.
The other one that tugged my heart with its beauty and simplicity was today’s latest episode in the adventures of Sean and Jamie Dietrich as they walk across Spain. Sean is famous for his loving humor and insights. Today, he introduced us to a world most of us will never visit and people we will never meet.
They are blessed for that.
“No A/Cs, but open windows, and the smell of beautiful, non-sterilized, non-artificial air, freely drifting through each room, fluttering the curtains, filling each space with the vivacious and unspoiled breath of nature.
Public smoking, without nasty glares, demonstrative throat clearing, and public shaming from non-smokers nearby.
Too much cholesterol, butter, gluten, excessive sodium, full-fat milk, three alcoholic drinks per day, not including wine with dinner, or beer for lunch, and the second-highest life expectancy in the world.
Daily naps.”
I’ve loved my entire life. I wouldn’t change a thing, not a single moment.
But occasionally, I am struck with regret for the world I’ve never known, the places and people I will never meet.
I’ll be 75 soon, yet I feel like a newborn with little time left.
Mike and Sean tell stories that make me wish I could live another fifty years and then start over.
Thanks for giving us this link.
This is terrific. Thank you.