One Dose Too Many…That’s Life

The terrorist murdered two Israelis and injured a dozen more on Dizengoff Street in Tel Aviv today doesn’t tell the full story for me.

It doesn’t tell you that my cousin saw and heard it all or include the story of others that witnessed this or the multiple other attacks that have taken 13 live in a few short weeks.

Doesn’t help me forget a family member who tried to tell me last May that I was wrong for telling him that his passing misinformation and a distortion of reality was dangerous. Not that I would forget that kind of thing because I don’t and won’t.

He demanded an apology that won’t ever come from me, not when he doesn’t recognize whose blood he risks. We rarely see each other, can’t say when it will happen again and so my silence probably won’t be noticed.

But I know and that is enough for now, don’t have time for his delusions and Trump like excuses for living in an echo chamber.

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None of this was on my mind during the follow up with the doc who prescribed a drug that declared war upon me. Probably hadn’t happened yet, haven’t done the math on the time difference because it doesn’t matter when it happened, just that it did.

But the idea that one dose more might have been too many fits the reality that life spins on a dime. I was around for a few terrorist attacks during my time in Israel.

Not afraid to visit or worried about such things because statistically speaking there are other events that are more probable.

Remember I drove through the beginning the LA Riots, been through multiple earthquakes, such as the Northridge, got evacuated from a forest fire and was in a car that was totaled.

Life happens and you do your best to roll with it.

Finding My Rhythm

Surprised when I heard a Taylor Swift song that caught my ear and made me want to listen again. Went looking online and found an old fashioned music video that starts out with a Pablo Neruda quote and smiled.

Didn’t use that for the link but you can find it if you are interested.

Songs that tell stories often grab me because stories are my currency and my passion. Doesn’t hurt that story telling isn’t a skill that is contingent upon physical abilities.

I don’t have to have my 19 or 25 year-old body and metabolism to perform at the highest levels. As long as I retain my mental faculties I can continue to refine and improve my skill for the rest of my life and that is of significant interest to me.

It is not easy to accept that I may never get close to being who I once was physically and though I haven’t given up on it I have accepted aspects of it.

Some blame it upon vanity and though there is an aspect of that it is not the driving force because what pushes me is the memory of how it feels.

The sense of invincibility, endless strength and endurance burn bright and a desire to recapture and keep as much of that as possible.

We do so much more when we feel good. I am grateful to say that I feel good more often than not but aware that can be taken.

So I try to do my part to keep it going and improve.

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Been a hell of a week, I am exceptionally proud of some of the things I accomplished. I am finding my rhythm again and if I can keep it going for a little bit longer I am going to shake things up in precisely the right way.

Won’t say more than that because I haven’t earned the right, but I am working on it and maybe I’ll get there sooner than later.

Got to push hard because the time will come when I can’t do it anymore and I want to know that if it happens tomorrow or 50 years from now I did what I could with what I had.