Tuesday, August 09, 2005


Earlier today I was listening to my iPod on shuffle while doing some rote paper-sorting in the conference room at work. 'More Than Fine' by Switchfoot was thrown up. I glanced up from my papers, out the window at the treetops and the bright sunshine, and I suddenly found myself filled a familiar but half-forgotten feeling. It's hard to describe, but the feeling is inextricably linked in my mind with driving through the mountains around Yosemite in California. It's a feeling of warm sunlight, a light breeze, the broad, workaday grandeur of nature, possibilities, privilege, tranquility, solitude and an understanding that life is expansive. It's a diffuse knowledge, as opposed to the tight, focused knowledge of how to assemble packages of documents or navigate through my iPod's menus.

The switch between the two was a little disorienting. Perhaps I need another holiday.


Blogger granola girl said...

I was going to ask where that photo was taken, and tell you that it looked frighteningly similar to where I grew up. Then, I hovered over it and discovered, that the reason it looks similar is because it is from where I spent the first 18 or so years of my life, and I've driven that stretch of road a million and 12 times. Scary.

12:12 PM  
Blogger Blandwagon said...

I turn to local philosopher Steven Irwin to sum up my reaction:


1:00 PM  

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