Adapting to Disorientation - November 15, 2016
The first row in the Trump Era was an interesting metaphor. Steely grey with gorgeous silky water.. but my oars were gone and the day off kilter from the outset.
My friend and I had a heated political discussion on the dock though we are on the same political side. Flustered, I pushed off without checking the foot adjustments and discovered too late that the placement was way off, and the oars ill fitting.
About halfway through the row, the stroking had become comfortable, I had adapted to the conditions. Then out in the bay I was turning to come back toward the bridge making a big loop and watching my friend going in funny directions, when I realized that I was heading for the wrong bridge and she'd been coming to check on my erratic direction.
So here I am, disoriented, having to adapt, arguing with people because we care so much. Ai yi yi, this human condition.
My friend and I had a heated political discussion on the dock though we are on the same political side. Flustered, I pushed off without checking the foot adjustments and discovered too late that the placement was way off, and the oars ill fitting.
About halfway through the row, the stroking had become comfortable, I had adapted to the conditions. Then out in the bay I was turning to come back toward the bridge making a big loop and watching my friend going in funny directions, when I realized that I was heading for the wrong bridge and she'd been coming to check on my erratic direction.
So here I am, disoriented, having to adapt, arguing with people because we care so much. Ai yi yi, this human condition.
Comments