Life As Performance Art 78

Wow, it's the second day of summer and the weather is still kind of springlike, which is rather nice, and they are forecasting a bit of rain over the next few days, and that should help make everything green again. Already in some places the grass is getting yellow and brown and I am sure that a lot of people won't mind maybe three or four days of summer precipitation just to green everything up again. Oh, but they will all get upset and complain like it's the end of the world, because we are such simple and rather stupid creatures, despite our big fat brains. A friend of mine mentioned recently that the problem with all our extra grey matter and neuro synapsis and everything is it just makes us more neurotic. I couldn't agree more. I am feeling fully recovered from my health issues of the other day, and the dizziness is completely gone. I am one hundred percent certain that my body was reacting to all the stress of the last several weeks, and that there is no point in talking to any of the doctors in the clinic about any of this because they still are totally clued out about the mind and body connection when it comes to illness, and I simply avoid them now unless I need a prescription renewal, or should I become gravely ill. I also find their ageism problematic and offensive. It is as though that by being over sixty, I am automatically frail with one foot in the grave, and that no matter how well I seem to be doing, they simply are not going to notice as they go on pathologizing me for being older. And it isn't just the doctors. Yesterday, following a long hike into and through Stanley Park and pausing to do some grocery shopping on the way back I sat in one of two perpendicular black iron chairs on the corner of Comox and Nicola, where I rested a bit and enjoyed looking at the gardens. A fellow not much younger than me came along, using the chair to support his bag of whatever while he pulled a tissue out of his pocket to blow his nose. I mentioned how I like these chairs and he replied that one appreciates being able to sit down when older. I said that actually, I had just hiked seven miles. I didn't say anything about recovering from a brief illness. So, he looked quite embarrassed, said something along the lines of that's really good, then quickly got away from me. A lot of us don't easily forgive ourselves when caught putting our foot in our mouths. A bit later, on the Granville Bridge, I was passed by a couple not much younger than me, American visitors, I think, and she wore a T shirt that said "Not All Who Wander Are Lost". I told her how much I like the message and they both seemed appreciative. As I mentioned to the young barista at the coffee shop where I later stopped to work in my sketchbook, that message has long been the story of my life. The message seemed also to twig with him as he explained it to meaning that we're not simply wandering. We are also exploring. And this is how we discover...everything, Gentle Reader. One foot in front of the other.