I often think of us all as having a spool embedded in our backs. We then let out thread as we walk, showing all where we’ve been. The spool and thread are activated on the day in which we first begin to walk. Some days we go far, and some days we don’t. As we go forth, we generate an image of our movement on a map.

Of course, over the years, this line of thinking has gotten more complicated. For moves that are less than one mile, we leave a yellow thread behind. For moves that are greater than one mile

and less than five, we leave a blue thread behind. And for moves that are greater than five miles we leave a red thread behind. Destination is key here. You can be traveling and spend a day in one place, in which you (on that particular day) leave a yellow thread behind. We leave threads behind when going by foot, car, plane, unicycle, etc.

There are many of us, and now trillions upon trillions of miles of threads. Aliens can of course see these threads, and have to be careful not to get tangled up in them. The end will come when the planet starts to look like a tightly wound ball of string. Right now, there are still a few empty places, where the earth floor is showing through. However, they’re going fast.

Lately, I have not been letting out very much thread. My daily map shows that I have been making a lot of trips from the main cabin to the horse barn, with other treks out around the loop, and now, quite often to the college. I did let out quite a bit of thread when I went from here to Portland, and also covered some distance when I was there.

I suspect that I have a limited amount of yellow thread, and an excess of blue thread.

I would like to do another horse trip, and leave some red thread on trails in Colorado, Montana, and Wyoming. I still have not yet let go of this idea. I’m probably being a bit more dependent on fate than I should be. If no one steps forth and offers to do this trip with me, I will consider going on my own.

I would also like to go to Iceland, so that I might become more familiar with the culture that’s produced some very fine horses, four of which now reside on our property.

I try not to be frivolous in my expenditure of my thread, since every human (before birth) is given a set amount of yellow, blue, and red thread. This is why I adhere to my self-motto, which is “move when the moving’s good.” I also adhere to another self-motto, which is “when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” So, for me, life is all about striking a balance between the two.

My work commute is really short, which has allowed me to save some on yellow and red thread. After breakfast, I go upstairs and work. Then I go outside. Now that it’s colder (right now -20) I’m moving less. My cutoff point for using the outhouse is -15. I also spend a bit more time planning my poop pick-up route, since I’m not inclined to want to hang out in the big pen, where it’s a bit more blowsy.

Today both Pete and I will extend our red and blue threads. We’re going over to Soapstone Road where we’ll help our friend Carol move stuff from her trailer to her shed. (Red threads) Then we’ll go to Anchorage where we’ll return a boom box Pete purchased last weekend, and check out Michio’s Hoshino’s photo exhibit (Blue threads).

Sewing Kit
In the absence of a needle, nothing else suffices.
If it’s a small tear, you can live your life accordingly,
because, most likely, no one will notice.
You’ll compensate by putting your hand over the rip,
and moving backwards, slowly.
If it’s a large tear, you won’t be able to live your life accordingly,
because, most likely, everyone will notice.
You won’t be able to compensate. Rather,
you’ll come to an abrupt stop,
look skyward, and levitate.

Next: 54. 1/29/12: Cross Even a Shallow River Deeply