175. Adventurous

           Some people have called me adventurous; usually in the context of my doing something they would not think about doing. I think of the early adventures in life when you feel the fear and do it anyway as preparation for the patterns that continue in our lives.

          The first adventure I remember would be the big city of Regina. My sister and I, at nine and ten years old, spent time with a maiden aunt touring the parliament and gardens of the legislative grounds of Saskatchewan. Fifty years later Bob and I were touring the parliament and gardens in Australia’s capital.

          Now that triggers an even earlier adventure. I’m remembering attending a Santa Claus Day Parade and the knots of anticipation in my stomach waiting for Santa to come. This mimics how I waited here at Viewpoint; our winter home; with similar anticipation last year for the St. Patrick’s Day Parade to come around the corner.

          Another memory harkens. I’m eleven years old and playing the church organ in front of a congregation when I could not read music. I used one or two fingers to play the song by ear. That’s an adventure. I feel the same nerves today when I take my guitar and my knees shake as I share music at the Viewpoint Sunday gatherings.

          Speaking my writings for the Legion Veterans when I was twelve has similar feelings as standing here and wondering what people are thinking as they hear my thoughts. Why do I care? I do!

          Joining sports teams in high school heading to other towns for competitions is so similar to my heading out every second Wednesday for league tennis competitions at matches across this East Arizona valley. I still agonize over lost points not wanting to let my teammates down. I think I am easier on myself now knowing I’m doing my best.

          My first overnight at neighbours with the upstairs slanted roof right over my head is a memory that surfaced when Bob and I shared a night in an old hotel in small town Saskatchewan where the bathroom was down the hall and we experienced the same type of slanted roof. I did say old hotel. They gave us the keys to the whole hotel; telling us no one would be in the hotel except us once the bar shut down after midnight.

          I see impulsive similarities in myself then and now. There is a reminder of the time seeing the green of Ireland on a TV commercial wanting marathon runners and me signing up to do it. It worked; as in I had a wonderful experience so that is probably why I said sure when my friend suggested we tour Peru’s Machu Pichu. I forgot I was afraid of heights and away I went to scale them.

          My two-week on – two week off again, job share for four years in Saskatchewan that enable me to be here in Viewpoint must have been the ample preparation for this new back and forth adventure as Bob is in Saskatchewan awaiting insurance following his heart event.

          This ends my adventurous writing stint regarding my repetitive patterns of living life. Thank you for listening.

                                                                             January 12, 2019


Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: