Sunshine

As I headed for my spinning class this morning, I was greeted by the NPR hourly news telling me unemployment numbers were going to be worse than expected. The squawk box continued to pontificate on bad winter weather in the densely populated Northeast and some other nonsensical rhetoric intended to instill a false sense of hope in my already downtrodden psyche. Stop it already! When are the talking heads going to quit blowing sunshine up our assholes and tell us the truth? Never. The media outlets have become an extension of the bloated institution elected by 40% of the population who cared enough about the democratic process or donated enough money to have a stake in it. Leaders are only as good as the worker bees in the hive. Yes, good workers can make an otherwise average leader look pretty rosy, and occasionally a good leader whips his or her lackeys in to shape. However, our do-nothing group of congressman and senators continue to set new standards in the race to dismantle American pride and hope. If you’re reading this and your congressman or senator is asking you to rehire them in the fall, I urge you to look at the track record the present legislature has and ask yourself, “Do these people deserve to be rehired, or should they join the nearly 17% of us who are unemployed or under-employed?” After a savage beating on the stationary bike at the hands of our cycle dominatrix, I tied on my running shoes and capped off an hour of stationary bike hell with a brisk 3 mile run back to the house. You can take my job, you can give my money to more bankers, but you’re not going to get the pink and orange orb filtering through the trees this morning. The sun will rise, the moon will set, and I will be outside to enjoy them. Next week I will be out there every morning and evening. Yes, my knees will hurt, my feet will look like a trip through the burn unit and smell like a gym locker, but when I roll out of the sack on to the wet leaves the troubles of the world will be a mere afterthought. My only concerns will be picking ‘em up and setting ‘em down. As the miles tick off, I will listen to birds returning from their southern vacation. I will wade rain swollen draws. I will curse the climbs. I will hope for more sun as the sky opens upon me. I will smile and I will frown. However, Ma Nature and I will dance. At the end of the night she will drop me off without so much as a goodbye or a kiss. I will curl up on the forest floor and hope I see her again. A 21st Century Hobo needs a bindle with some space if he’s going off grid. Today will find me shoving nearly 40 pounds of food and gear in to my pack. Hope that it all fits; the food that is. As spring envelops us, I hope everyone listens to the train whistle’s call and throws a biscuit or two in the bindle and gets out there. Get outside.