An Idea Some Day

Took Zen for a late afternoon walk around the village. Bumped into a woman standing by the railing on Main Street, looking down at the beck.  She acknowledged me, so I stopped and stood next to her. She told me she was there to scatter her mum's ashes, then proceeded to open a stiff white paper bag and shake it over the railing. I watched her mum's colourless powdered remains float away from us in the wind and fall into the water below. It was all done with such a casual air, like she was emptying garden clippings into a waste bin. Then she turned, gave Zen a big smile, and said, "You're a cute thing. I'm just saying goodbye to my mum." Then she shrugged and was on her way. She probably hadn't expected a smiling baby to be there as she gave her dead mother back to the earth. And so this private goodbye suddenly turned into a cycle of life moment shared with two strangers. Yet it didn't feel like we were intruding; it somehow felt like we provided some ...

 Yesterday (Fri 10) was a great day despite a rough start. Ansel had a morning meltdown that lasted the whole way to nursey. (I had to calm him down in the foyer before he could go in—a first). It was a crisp, bright morning, so I took a walk around the village to clear my head (which worked). Hammered out a six-email sequence for PP by mid-afternoon and found time (and motivation) to lift some weights and go for a run to end the day. I’m not sure if my natural energy level caused me to be so motivated, active, and productive, or if it was the other way around, but I could feel my body was flooded with endorphins… and I had a sense of accomplishment and wellbeing that lasted all day. Reminded me of the high I used to feel after yoga class. Plus it turned out Ansel had soon settled down and had a great day at nursery. And he was so sweet and fun in the evening, getting me to play PJ Masks with him (and being chill about Zen being with his mum). Note to self: things can turn around f...

Friday evening. I picked up both boys from nursery and stepped out of the car on the driveway to see a chain of satellites arcing through the sky, all on the same path directly overhead. A Starlink launch, I assume.  Magical sight.  You could see them appearing into view somewhere off to the east before passing overhead and fading away over to the west—straddling the sky in a straight line like a string of pearls.  I called Charlotte to come out to see them, and the four of us stood there enjoying the spectacle for a few minutes. Even Ansel was amazed, exclaiming, “Oh wow, Daddy; there’s so many of them.”  Beautiful moment.

Here's a lesson from a kid’s book about Einstein and Stephen Hawking (free from McDonald’s, apparently) that I read to Ansel tonight:  Imagination is more important than knowledge.  Love that.  Knowledge is about understanding what has already been. Imagination is about understanding what could be.  Super-powerful idea—and all the more true in the internet age when information is so freely available. Its abundance makes it less valuable. It's how you use it that counts.  And that takes imagination.