On Imagination
Making the unseen visible
Hello on this Tuesday.
It felt incomplete to send this yesterday without a take on my time in Vermont and New Hampshire, hence the postponed arrival in your inbox.
I returned to the Boston area late last night, and instead of a quick send, I decided to include all the good stuff.
Here goes.
In short, Vermont is a beaut. I don’t think I could ever get accustomed to the wildlife crossing signs (moose, deer, bear, etc.), but it sure is a great way to know I am on the edge of my comfort zone. Also, the foliage is next level. I may sound like a city mouse, but I do not remember trees turning vibrant shades of red, orange, or gold the way they did this past weekend.
En route to the Ben & Jerry’s factory, we crossed right through the capital city, Montpelier. It was scenic, rustic, and, at times, looked straight out of a storybook with its small-town USA feel. It set the tone of what to expect for the remainder of the time while heading through the White Mountains. We closed the night out with dinner in a rented cabin and a weak attempt at starting a blaze without tinder or firewood.
We took the Mount Washington Cog Rail to its “skyline” view the next day.
While nowhere near the summit, the height we visited still had tundra conditions, complete with snow cover and hazy visibility.
According to the guide, on a clear day from Mount Washington, you could see the neighboring state of Maine and clear across to the Atlantic Ocean further in the distance.
Phil and I agreed we must return to take in the entire scene as if I needed another reason to visit.
I started reading Rich Paul’s “Lucky Me” two days ago and am on page 147.
I was too excited to dive in – I pre-ordered this memoir immediately after reading an article about its highly anticipated distribution.
Any individual who had the NCAA shook has a story I want to read about.
So far, it is excellent. Paul lays out the makings of his upbringing clearly and with such detail, it reads like fiction. However, it is not false. But a true account of a young man’s early life told from a reflective outlook.
From one inner city kid to another, this line from pg. 53 has stayed with me since I read it.
“To envision a better life, your imagination had to be extraordinary. You had to chase something you never saw with your own eyes.”
Between this quote and Paul’s description of a longing he couldn’t exactly name but knew he was searching for, this book is a masterpiece in using one’s intuition, an inner knowing, to create the unseen.
In high school, I could get home once exiting the local train station in several ways.
I had my selection of buses as many passed close by or close enough to my home. And there was always the option to walk.
When taking my favorite route by foot, I’d exit, turn left, and keep walking along the side of the station. My part of Brooklyn was the last stop. There were what felt like dozens of excess tracks for trains to be docked and put out of service or for cars to switch, swap, and prepare for a new run. The areas of the train yard that didn’t back up to neighboring houses had the usual sign of urban living with windblown litter hugging the fence. Empty chip bags and straw wrappers create something of modern art when knotted in kankelon and snagged on a post.
I’d look past the sidewalk debris to the rows and rows of tracks and imagine myself somewhere far off.
I’d be in a meadow in North Carolina one minute, then, with a switch of the tracks, end up near a dam in Colorado. Then, to an overpass in Sao Paulo and a waterfall in New Hampshire.
Each track was a valid and distinct possibility. Each one a wish. And each one came true.
I’m rooting for you this week. May you take what's given and turn it into something great.
Also, I have a newsletter update next week. I look forward to sharing
All my love and admiration,
R.