No Record Kept

Living gratefully today, I appreciate cooler air. There is almost a chill to it this morning, and we haven't had that in a long time.

Many of you already know this, but I like to write things down. I am good at keeping record. Give me a year and a month and I can pull out a journal that will likely have at least a couple entries from that time. I can refresh my memory on what was going on personally and also pick up on some historical facts that made their way on paper. Some will be significant, some quite insignificant. 

I have logged training runs on a calendar in marathon training seasons, noted birthdays and sobriety birthdays for many people. I have written down two gratitudes each morning, rarely missing, for over two decades. Yep, I like to record stuff.

And in the recording, the writing, there is processing and honoring and impact. It can become a slippery slope for me though. I can get a little obsessive about tracking things. One example: I often carry a pedometer in my pocket and check it throughout the day to see how many steps I have taken. 

It's not a bad idea to carry one or to exercise, but this pedometer becomes a symbol of what takes me out of the present moment and up into my head. How can I get more steps? I'll take the long way around. It can become a chore, or a sick little way to feed my ego and my mind that is hell-bent on productivity. The exercise itself is good, but some of the layers around it aren't as healthy. They become exhausting beyond the physical sense. 

So . . . some days there will be no record kept of my steps. Today will be one of those days. Maybe I will enjoy the ones I do take a little more. Maybe I will notice them for what they are . . . each their own step. Not just a means to an end.

No record kept. Sometimes it's a liberating idea.