Jun. 07, 2002 - 19:44 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Detours ?

Bev always comes up with the neatest things, which often lead to me cyber-meeting some new and very interesting people. She mentioned joining a new 'Burb' called 'Fellow Travelers,' checking on it a bit it seems to be one that I should also join.

John, whose burb it belongs to is seeking friends and like thinkers in forming a 'burb.' His philosophy is, "Life is a journey towards an ideal." Invited are, "Those whose Journals reflect their journey through life.

I am not sure that just a plain diary qualifies, but I like the marvelous concept. Things seem to be giving me a hint to follow along those lines in my way of life, I remember seeing something to the effect that it is not the goal that is important but the trip to that goal and striving to reach it.

My journey through life is quite similar to the path of a puppy on a walk with its master. For every ten feet the master takes, the puppy does at least ten times the distance -- from side to side, as fast and frantically it pursues the unknown. Not age related really, I still am pretty much the fumbling, mumbler. Yet, I feel that my descent into alcoholism was about the only time I turned around and headed in the wrong direction. Sometimes progress for me goes at a crawl, but it goes.

The man who started the burb is fighting his battles trying to go forward too. He mentions in his Journal something about visible and invisible disorders. He struck a spark in my mind. My visible disorder is quite obvious, an arthritic spine that has pretty well made a curlicue of things. A cane and an oxygen bottle. Invisible disorders here, depression which is under control medically but has to be fought by my own mind and spirit. The oxy bottle might hint at one of the disorders but doesn't tell the complete tale. Congestive heart failure and COPD is the total picture of that, neither of which ever gets better but can be fought tooth and nail to delay the inevitable.

Age is an increasing companion on my trail, but has its good and bad sides.

After retirement and the sale of our house letting us move into an apartment which has the amenities without requiring the exhausting and painful labor of keeping up a large house there wasn't much to do other than family visiting and a bit of traveling. My spare time other than daily exercise walks was reading, reading and more reading. Pleasure reading does have its limits.

The gift of Webtv from my wife has been a giant step foward for a pleasant journey for me. It allows me a certain amount of self education via the web and also lets me look over shoulders and read other's journals and enables me to weigh myself truthfully.

Pleasure reading doesn't do much more than give me something to do on the train of life when boredom takes place -- for a time. But the web and its denizens are letting me live again actively. Helping me to sort myself out and sift the chaff from the grains of my life.

It has led me into making me try for self expression and meeting the minds of others. It has also shown me that I can do things like write a diary, my first idea was, "Well, I'll give it a try but doubt that I will have anything to say after a month," over two years now and I am still yakking and having dialog with other journal type people and enjoying it to the utmost.

Sometimes I have to give myself an attitude adjustment and re-set my course through life. What is my compass ? The observation of what other thinking people do, how they think and my desire to learn from those who have more knowledge than I. I have my faith but also think we were given free will and are expected to use it wisely. Not everybody feels that way nor should they be expected to. I've made my share of mistakes, and they are mine, made by me, which I try to rectify and make amends to those who have been hurt.

I guess maybe I live by the precepts of an ancient medical man, "First, do no harm," and try to go on from there to do something.

In my voyage of life exploration I have been shunted onto many side roads and back trails, but who can ever avoid Detours ? . . . . . . . . .

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