365 True Things: 97/Reentry (7/3/15)

As I get mentally ready to return home tomorrow, I've been enjoying this free-and-easy last day in Oslo: a late breakfast out in the sunny little garden—scrambled eggs, juniper-smoked salmon, fresh rye bread, tomatoes and paprika, black currant jam, tomato herring; a trip downtown for one last look in a bookstore (I got a couple of Norwegian grammar books: I am determined to figure out the mechanics of this confounded language) and a kitchen store (searching for a porcelain bread knife that my in-laws have and that I covet); coffee and cakes (strawberry—white chocolate, yum); a video store to buy a children's stop-action DVD with English subtitles for us to watch this evening after dinner if we have the energy (it's based on a story by Kjell Aukrust, who came from the neighboring valley of my sister-in-law, and involves, if I understand correctly, a rocket ship, or at least a hedgehog and a magpie, and maybe cheese . . . yeah, and a race).

David and I then took the T-bane to the eastern suburbs, where we hiked into the forest to find the second stage of a very clever geocache that involves PGP encryption—which, fortunately, David understood, because I would have been lost. We found it! And two others as well! In fact, all together since we've been in Norway, we've found 69 caches. And didn't find one.

Yes, we're crazy.

As we've strolled through the day, I've been conscious of what's coming next: that back-to-reality push. David has to jump straight into teaching—he has a real job; but me, I don't have much I really have to do. Clean up an edit and review a few pieces by my writing group colleagues, yes, but that won't take long. And then: it's back to my own projects, my own interests, my own challenges and goals. Very few "out there" know or much care what I'm working on: I'm not meeting any deadlines, contributing to a bigger machine.

I often get overwhelmed by the choices—because I have a lot of interests—and end up wasting time instead.

So if nothing else on this return trip, I am vowing not to waste time. But to turn to something productive, or at least good for me, if I find myself at a loss (or a crossroads) for something to do. It could be as simple as making a cup of tea and sitting outside watching the birds. It could be hopping on my bike. It could be starting a new book arts project—and not getting put off by the fact that I won't be able to finish it in one sitting.

And I will, every day, do some writing (this blog, for instance; and research and sketches for Amber Moon). Meditating and exercise are also musts.

Beyond those, I have plenty, but plenty, to do. I think the key, in all of this, is to remember how blessed I am that I have so many interests, so many choices, and . . . to just take things slow. This isn't a race.