May has thirty-one days in it.  That would mean there are eleven days left in it.  I know – math genius.  But psychologically, next weekend is Memorial Day Weekend.  The unofficial start of summer.  Time zips right along, ready or not.

This morning getting out of bed was a little tougher.  A weekend of yard work took its toll on me and I’m taking stock of my soreness.  But I got up and worked out nonetheless.  Not much really, just getting the blood flowing.  Coming back upstairs my routine was well-defined.  Drink a glass of water, make a coffee, read some Stoic and a few pages of whatever book I’m reading at the time, and let Bodhi out.  Except there’s no more Bodhi.  But the muscle memory remains.

It’s not grief; not really.  Its habit developed over thirteen years with him.  When he stopped walking well I went through the same thing at 9:30-10 PM when I would think “time for our walk”.  Time took its toll on Bodhi, as it takes its toll on all of us.  The Stoics would tell you we all must die and life is only now.  And so it is.  Life requires a tack once in awhile.  This is a good time to tack.

So there are eleven days left in May.  Time has proven once again that it won’t wait for me.  Best to get moving. Determine the set of the sail and get going already. Life is a series of pivot points, isn’t it? The heading is generally the same, allowing for some unfavorable winds along the way. Which brings me to this quote I read in the Farnom Street newsletter:

ā€œWe are, finally, all wanderers in search of knowledge. Most of us hold the dream of becoming something better than we are, something larger, richer, in some way more important to the world and ourselves. Too often, the way taken is the wrong way, with too much emphasis on what we want to have, rather than what we wish to become.ā€ ā€” Louis L’Amour

That about sums it up.