So, Sunday is casual day around my blog, but the curious thing is sometimes that can be a bit unnerving. I carry all these little blog ideas around in my head, and most days, when I sit down to write a post, I have, informally, all these pieces in place, little models of what I'll say, maps, charts, a diagram. I may spin off and start talking about anything, but I usually hit one of my arrows, and my arrow says to me "Go left." and I, being very agreeable as a writer, say "Okay, sure, why? Is there a good surprise?" And most of the time there is.
But on casual day I just find the nearest hill and go to the top of it, dragging my rickety go-cart, the one I built out of scrap lumber and old lawnmower wheels. It has a rope steering wheel, more like reins really, and no brakes other than a 2x4 that can be pulled on to drag against the ground. I climb in and start rolling slowly down. At first I barely move, but the hill quickly drops off and soon birds are scattering before me in bewildered surprise. I would like to look at the birds, but that would be crazy because I have to be scanning constantly for trees and rocks to dodge, I have to anticipate, I have to go left, left, LEFT!! and I'm in the air and I'm in a bush and I'm bleeding and the right front wheel is wobbling frighteningly. The steering has stopped working and straight ahead is a telephone pole. I lean, just miss it, careen across an old logging road into more thorny bushes. Then there is sand. I spin, and, like that, sideways, I stop.
I touch my cheek. Yes, it's smeared with blood, but not too much. And suddenly it's so peaceful and quiet everywhere. And I think, maybe there's not much sense to casual day, but, it's pretty invigorating, I mean, when you live through it.
Which I guess I have.