Two hundred and ninety six, that’s how many days left till we cast off for Bermuda and beyond. Yes, I’m now counting down the days but not like a prisoner, oh no that would be easy. I’m counting them down like a nervous project manager fretting about whether or not we’ll have enough time to do all things we need to do before we blast off. Time is a ticking bomb, it’s the burning fuse on a stick of dynamite, the setting sun on a too short day and I fear we’ll not have enough of it to do all the things that must be done. At the same time I remember to remind myself that this is our time, our precise time to shine and enjoy, to revel in all the care and imperfection that we’re investing into our journey, into our future. The future, the past and now; they are all related, knowing that enables me to tolerate this bitch of a frozen ass winter that is slowing down the boat projects and keeping me off the water but soon, soon, all too soon things will change like freight train, like a jet plane or a shooting star and we’ll be off…
Friday, January 9, 2009
296 – dan
Two hundred and ninety six, that’s how many days left till we cast off for Bermuda and beyond. Yes, I’m now counting down the days but not like a prisoner, oh no that would be easy. I’m counting them down like a nervous project manager fretting about whether or not we’ll have enough time to do all things we need to do before we blast off. Time is a ticking bomb, it’s the burning fuse on a stick of dynamite, the setting sun on a too short day and I fear we’ll not have enough of it to do all the things that must be done. At the same time I remember to remind myself that this is our time, our precise time to shine and enjoy, to revel in all the care and imperfection that we’re investing into our journey, into our future. The future, the past and now; they are all related, knowing that enables me to tolerate this bitch of a frozen ass winter that is slowing down the boat projects and keeping me off the water but soon, soon, all too soon things will change like freight train, like a jet plane or a shooting star and we’ll be off…
Two hundred and ninety six, that’s how many days left till we cast off for Bermuda and beyond. Yes, I’m now counting down the days but not like a prisoner, oh no that would be easy. I’m counting them down like a nervous project manager fretting about whether or not we’ll have enough time to do all things we need to do before we blast off. Time is a ticking bomb, it’s the burning fuse on a stick of dynamite, the setting sun on a too short day and I fear we’ll not have enough of it to do all the things that must be done. At the same time I remember to remind myself that this is our time, our precise time to shine and enjoy, to revel in all the care and imperfection that we’re investing into our journey, into our future. The future, the past and now; they are all related, knowing that enables me to tolerate this bitch of a frozen ass winter that is slowing down the boat projects and keeping me off the water but soon, soon, all too soon things will change like freight train, like a jet plane or a shooting star and we’ll be off…
