Sister, You Need a Plan to Understand that Life Ain't Only Supply and Demand*

*Title credit goes to Amos Lee; Supply and Demand

I let the hot water cascade over my body marveling at just how much dirt one can collect in the course of three days living in the outdoors.  A small smile creeps across my face and then turns into a stifled giggle as I remember the unrestrained joy brought on by "mar sho shos"; even vegan ones.  As I wring out my hair letting the last vestiges of a four day weekend fall away I can't help but be overwhelmed with a longing for more moments so full of life.

As August came to a warm, sunny end writing only seemed like a chore.  Something I had endeavored to do to improve myself had instead become something I hid from, avoided and was nagged about.  It began to feel like so much else had in my life; required but not reveled in.  That was never my intention and so I stopped.

Instead, I took up watching hours of trashy TV, stalking people via Facebook and even dipped my toe into the murky pool that is online dating (so not ready to go there, but that is an entirely different topic). And rapidly I began to hate my insipid self even more than when I had just been frustrated by my inability to make a concrete change in career or location.

On Friday the sun rose and Stells and I began a journey that would take us to the outer reaches of the Puget Sound.  I packed the car and my companion and set off for the airport.  The mere freedom of no responsibilities on such a sunny day was enough to put me in an extraordinarily good mood.  By 1:00 we were on the ferry dock and meeting little Effie for the first time.

Reuniting with folks I hadn't seen in five years was both refreshing and grounding.  It was so nice to gain perspective on what everyone else has achieved in the ensuing years (and what they hadn't) and to truly realize that the only measuring stick that matters is the one I hold up at the end of the day that says did I do my best?  Did I try my hardest to make the world at least a little bit better than I found it upon waking this morning?

Every night as we sat around the campfire the guitars and the ukulele would come out.  The tunes would range from Loretta Lynn's "Fist City" to the Beatles' "I've Just Seen a Face" and for a couple hours it felt like we were back in the living room on Polk Street where there was so much possibility and support in front of us.

On Tuesday morning I settled into my bus seat (my bicycle having been the victim of a flat tire) and shoved my ear buds into my ear--as though I needed another reminder, Amos Lee came over Pandora admonishing me that life ain't all just supply and demand.  Four days in the San Juans had been a nice refresher in that life lesson.  How was I going to make sure and carry that forward?