The wide walking and biking trails in our town are littered with crickets in summer. On family bike rides, Sally squeals each time she almost runs over one, which leads to a lot of squealing. Worse than riding over one, though, is having one fly up in a panic and ping your leg or arm or face.
Last Friday there were only a few crickets enjoying the last gasp of hot weather, but somehow each one was directly in the path of my front tire. Each one, at the last possible moment before the rubber rubbed him out forever, flung himself up and out, towards the brush that lines the asphalt, sometimes making it, sometimes splatting just a ways down. Crickets do not look before they leap, at least not when faced with death by squashing.
They land awkwardly, legs and joints akimbo. Sometimes even on a wing or tipped to the side. I didn’t stop to see how the recovery went, but the aimless, frenzied flight, the fearless self-flinging was as exhilarating to watch as that moment on the runway right before your plane takes off and you hold your breath.
Those crickets reminded me of Mr. Bennet, because he has this thing where he’s writing a page a day without any special goal in mind. Which really isn’t a stretch (much less a wild, fantastic leap) for a technical writer with a blog, but it’s what he’s doing at night instead of watching (more) TV with me.
Usually I am enamored of more purpose-driven endeavors, more exotic goals and expected outcomes. Like cooking 524 intricate French recipes with Julie and Julia, spending no money with Bye Bye Buy, forgoing toilet paper with No Impact Man, and fasting with Sister Kent from my parent’s ward who decided as a teenager to not eat until she heard from God (it was three days before He spoke).
The more extreme and impossible-to-sustain in the long run, the more inspired I am. I tell myself that as soon as I find my passion, I’ll sprout this devotion to live it madly for a year. (A year seeming to be the accepted limit for moonstruck deliberation.)
I have been telling myself this for twenty years.
In the waiting time, though, as each solstice and equinox beguiles with hints and promises of new starts, I add one or two small things from my list of envied dreamers of dreams. I start making yogurt and baking bread again (though not from a cookbook); I resolve to buy less, especially as I realize that the waste I now compost is not nearly as large a fraction of what we throw away everyday as I thought it would be. I stop drinking Mountain Dew, so that when Fast Sunday comes along, I can commune without wanting to take a chainsaw to my skull.
Next spring I will plant my beans and peas earlier, and tally my costs like Thoreau. And I will write one page a day, because what else would I do while Mr. Bennet ignores the dishes in the long winter evenings?
Someday I will fling myself into something, and like the crickets, I won’t think first of my landing.
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You know you sound like Thoreau in this post. I loved it!
First of all, thanks for reminding me about the cricket that has sequestered itself under radiators (as if the constant chirping wasn’t reminder enough). Secondly, I find I always set my goals and change my routines whenever the seasons change. Third, I am way to reserved to leap before I look, so I will not be sharing you on your cricket like adventures.
I rarely set goals. I find they add to my anxiety. I seem to always fall short of the unrealistic expectations I set for myself. Probably a sign I should just set goals I can accomplish. Like wake up in the morning and brush your teeth. But the day I do that is probably the day I slip into a coma and don’t wake up. LOL
Loved the post… and I only had to look up maybe one or two words.
The Buddhists, some anyway, say “Leap, and the net will appear.” Sounds risky to me.
It’s so funny how you come out with this stuff when it is only a vague rumbling in the back of my brain. Then when I read you I realize THAT, yes, THAT right there is what I mean! I have always waited for something to be so passionate about that I will overcome all of my imperfections in quest of that one thing I want so bad. But for me, it’s still just a very vague very far off very unreal dream. At least you are making some strides forward. I feel like all I ever do is go backwards.
P.S. Very yummy popcorn balls. I snagged one for myself.