Measurements and Markers: All the Ways We Track Our Lives

I have been thinking about measurements and markers, all the ways we measure success, progress, and our proof of life on the planet.  Here are some of my scattered thoughts:

--Yesterday, I made this Facebook post:  

"Just back from a walk around the neighborhood around my seminary, and I'm amazed at how many people have already discarded the evergreen wreathes that once adorned the doors. I understand why the Christmas trees must go, but the wreathes seem appropriate for at least another winter month or two.

Then again, it's almost 70 degrees here in DC today, and I'm walking in shorts, so maybe winter is over."

--I've been tracking the miles that I walk since I walk with the phone, and Google Maps will do the tracking.  It fascinates me.  Over the holiday, I went on a hike with poet Dave Bonta.  He uses Google Maps too, but mainly to figure out how far he can go with the time and weather that he has on the given day; he tracks out his hike in advance, whereas I head out and later check to see how far I went.  I was intrigued by the difference in our mindsets.

--I am no longer tracking calories or pounds or my heart rate.  I think about all the logs I have kept in the past, all the markers that mattered to me.  I am keeping a list of books I've read and places where I've sent my creative writing.

--I took my spouse to the airport yesterday and returned back to my seminary apartment in the early afternoon.  By bedtime, I had fabric draped over all sorts of surfaces.  I am going to try to make some serious progress on my various quilting projects over the next few weeks and into February before my seminary projects will take over much of my free time.

I love having a project like quilting the big project together and having it draped over me, keeping me warm, along with having a project that consists of small pieces.

--As I moved about my afternoon, I kept an eye/ear on the Speaker of the House elections.  I don't understand why Kevin McCarthy wants this job so desperately.  It's clearly going to be a very toxic work situation.  Yuck.

--But then I also wonder about me--what does it say about me that I have never wanted a job that desperately?  Perhaps that I am happy to say goodbye to all sorts of things--power, prestige, money--if I can avoid a toxic situation.  The jobs that I might want that desperately may not even exist anymore--that factor, too, is one explanation of why I look at Kevin McCarthy and shake my head.