This weekend, Marlene and I nicknamed our new favorite swimming hole in the Sierra Nevada the “Zen Garden”.

It really is a glassy, zen paradise; float on it for a few moments, and you can’t help but transcend into a type of nirvana. It’s been positively therapeutic for me, surfing its smooth surface these last few trips to the mountains.

The more time I spend in nature (and I spend a lot these days), the more I crave: the harder it is for me to adjust to not being in nature. The more my eyes are open when I return to the city: the more clarity I experience. 

Yesterday, as I lay in silence in the sand with Sam and watched Marlene and our friend Miguel turn in silent, overlapping circles in their tubes – on a surface so still you couldn’t tell where water ended and sky began, no humans in sight – I thought about lots of stuff.

My family. My home. My job. My “next phase of life.”

But mostly, I thought about how good these times are, in nature, without distractions from work. From technology. From social media. From news. From worry. 

And about how I have to make even more time for them. I have to. There’s no other way I can keep going in life if I don’t.

And, as a consequence, how I think the time for this blog might be coming to an end.

When I began writing this record five years ago, I had just left social media. In the wake of my scary exit from my online social community, I had a strong desire to continue to create a “document” of Trent’s and my life together.

And boy, have I done that.

But now, I just – don’t want to document so much any more.

I want to just live. 

I think the era of the blog may be over.

Or, it might be time for something different (because, let’s face it; the historian / archivist in me is always going to be alive, to some degree…)…

I’m not sure what that might be, but I know that I am sitting in front of a screen right now as I type this. I am not floating; I am not zen. And that’s the problem.


Funny, but the better my moments become, the less I want to document them.

And so, some sort of countdown begins…

How much more will I have to say?


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2 thoughts on “Floating

  1. Margaret Wisniewski says:

    I am glad you have found time to just “be” and not “do” so much. Yes, the archivist in you is something you cannot change, and trust me when I say that we ALL enjoy your chronicles. Without your words and pictures we would not have a record of our treasured memories, and we all thank you for that. The problem with that, however, is exactly what you have said. While you are documenting the moment, you are not fully present in the moment. That is why I always forget to take pictures. I am so busy enjoying what I should be taking a picture of, that I forget to take the picture!

    I understand the need for more “being” time to preserve your sanity. I think it is absolutely the right decision. I need to practice more of it myself. That is why I used to spend so much time just staring off the back of the boat, never reading or even listening to music. Didn’t need to. Just wanted to sit and do nothing and take it all in. Lucky you to have such a beautiful place to retreat to and empty your head. You need it, and you certainly deserve it.

    Don’t worry about the rest of us. We will continue to keep in touch and share adventures and memories and photos via other means. But please tell me you can preserve what has already been written in a permanent place. Gramps and I agree that it is a marvelous story that you have written, and a treasure for all of us to remember. Five years! What amazing things have happened! And we don’t want to forget them. It is the story of our lives together.

    If this is your final blog, farewell Temple Times. But it is not farewell to the memories, or to the future possibilities. Just go relax and enjoy what happens. No worries or constraints. And make sure you leave me the address where I can go and read Temple Times when I want to take a walk down memory lane!

    Happy Endings!

    Love you!

  2. Marlene says:

    Craving Zen too. Thank-you for the cleanse.

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