So, there it is. Thirty-one days of small stones. I have no idea if I adhered to the letter of what these small stones should have been, but I'd like to believe I came close to capturing the spirit.
In this January, when I ventured alone across 2,000 miles of this country the necessity to pay attention, to see, to hear, to reflect — in all its meanings — inherent in the small stone challenge served as a way to focus me.
The word "alone" in the above sentence conjures up images of a lone man, supported only by his wits, braving the unknowns of the journey. A pretty image but, were it to apply to me, I'd be traveling yet, lost to all, wandering like a comet seen in passing every so many years.
I ventured out alone 'tis true, but supported by much technology — a GPS system so the car could yell at me when I deviated from the defined path, satellite radio so I could listen to Gregorian Chant on a Sunday morning as I left Flagstaff, AZ or country music to travel by as I skirted Amarillo, TX, a cellphone connected to my car's speaker and microphone system to I could remain in contact as and when along the day, along the miles, my other cellphone that's really a camera with a cellular radio attached so I could capture images of the high desert or a Kansas sunset and send them into the ether, my laptop so I could, late of an evening, see the face of my beloved on the screen as we spoke.
Now, how's that for a run-on sentence?
Alone yes, but hyper-connected — which isn't all bad.