more normal than not

I had a really philosophical post planned…about fireflies…and, then, when I went looking for a picture to throw at the top of all the writing, I found this.

My oldest daughter used to listen to this “band”.

I don’t think that it was a band.

I think she told me it was just this guy singing.

It wasn’t a band…it was a dude.

Anyway, the original idea for the post was about how the seasons are changing and the fireflies that lay on the road were just another indication of all the coming cold weather.

When it gets too cool they can’t fly…it’s time to die.

Still…they do shine on…laying on the warmer asphalt….waiting for the end.

That’s the kind of thing that I notice when I’m out by myself….running…walking…at 4:30 in the morning.

That early time is beautiful….the road, wet after the night’s rain….me…alone…no one else moving on what should be a restful weekend.

I hear things that I can’t see out in the woods…crashing through…moving…calling out.

It is a good way to start the day.

It’s a good thing to be reminded of my place in it all…moving through the beginning of the day.

I work today…but that’s OK.

There isn’t enough time in the world to wait for the “right time” to make things better.

I work today….but I can accelerate towards something good…in spite of “I work today”.

Coffee and exercise and stream of consciousness.

Good times.

I can do more than lay down to die….shining on a dark road…waiting to be noticed.

Even in the changing season….I can always do more.

Even more.

If I had a garage….and, if I made a mistake and drove my car into it, left the engine running and closed the garage door, I wouldn’t last very long.

That’s a disturbing truth.

The air wouldn’t be fit to breathe in short order.

What my car produces in return for carrying me from place to place is not compatible with life.

The fire that moves me down the road makes poison.

I drive every day for my job.

I drive a lot of miles.

I think that I figured out a while back that I could have gone around the world over 10 times with the mileage I’d driven over my postal career.

I could have gone somewhere if I’d been pointed in the right direction and didn’t stop for every mailbox.

I could have landed someplace interesting.

Everyone drives.

There are a million cars on the road.

That’s probably an understatement.

A “million”?!

More than that, probably.

If we all drove into the “big garage”….cruised around under the big blue sky…where would the poison all these cars spit out go?

I couldn’t survive in a garage with the engine of my car running.

This is stupid and simple.

It’s no revelation to say that the exhaust would kill me.

How big do I think that sky above me is?

Is there room in the world to disperse all the poison I produce?

How much room do I need for all my dirty stuff?

Will I survive….me?

Here’s a nice cob house built by a professional snowboarder from Canada.

It’s another great video from Exploring Alternatives.

Here’s their description (I’m tired…lazy…after a day of mail delivery) :

This is a full tour of a cozy cob micro cabin built by Marie France Roy, a professional snowboarder from Canada. She wanted to build a home with natural and reclaimed materials so the main floor is built with cob – a mix of sand, clay, and straw – and the upper floor is built with reclaimed cedar siding. She also used secondhand windows and other materials that were used or on their way to the landfill to reduce the impact of her project.

For heat, she uses a sealed woodstove and has backup electric heat if she’s leaving the house for an extended period of time. For water and waste, she’s hooked up to a well and septic.

She is currently using propane for her stove and hot water heater but has bought and activated a system to produce and collect methane using food waste. She hopes to eventually transition to using homemade gas instead of propane.

The tiny cob house is plugged onto the grid but she also has a small solar panel array to feed renewable energy onto the grid.

I pulled off the highway the other night when I saw a guy next to his car….hood up…trying to wave down some assistance.

It’s hard to stop and pull over when you’re going 65…but after I got to the side of the road and backed up to where the guy was, I rolled down my window and asked him if he needed help.

He held up a new wiper blade and asked me if I knew how to install it on his car.

That was weird.

It was a bad place to change wiper blades.

There was a lot of traffic….fast moving traffic…but I figured that I was already stopped so I went back to help him.

It smelled like he’d been smoking a lot of pot.

That might explain his choice of wiper blade changing locations.

He had a Walking Dead belt buckle.

He had a giant watch.

He had a paracord wrapped handle sheath knife on his Walking Dead buckled belt.

I watched that knife out of the corner of my eye while I helped him.

He was so stoned.

It’s good to help people.

I always like it when people help me.

It’s strange to plop down into someone else’s weird non-emergency, though.

Wiper blades? Really?!

I left him on the side of the road after I changed the one side he’d been struggling with.

He dropped a part that he didn’t need down into the bottom of the engine compartment and was on the ground, head pointed towards traffic, obsessed with getting the little plastic piece he’d lost (but didn’t need) out of the unreachable part of his new car when I left to get home to my family.

I told him that it would still be there when he got home…that it might be better to try and fish it out where it was safer…. before I left him….but I don’t think that he listened.

I should have done both sides for him….but he was obsessed with getting the black plastic thing out of the engine compartment….so I left while he was distracted.

Did I mention that he was really stoned?

I wonder if that guy made it home?

At least it wasn’t raining…..