Day 9. 30 Days of Biking

There is less difference among us than one might suppose.

Let’s take a general inventory. Ten fingers, ten toes. Two eyes, one nose. More than likely, less than eight feet tall.

While your numbers may vary due to your birth or continued existence, there’s plenty of evidence that we’re all the same person repeated nine billion times.

We fit into the world roughly the same way. The tailor has no more work to do. Ready made is our fate. We seek patterns because we come from one.

But we also seek the unique.

We run, but focus adoration on the fastest among us and hang medals around their necks. We climb ladders, but some of us put down useful work to scale mountains. We dwell on the ground, but dream of walking among clouds.

We name those we bring into the world and consider them individuals. Jane is different from Mary, who is different from Jamie, who in turn is different than Garnet, Ruby and Opal. (If you’re named Garnet and you weren’t born in the nineteen century, you really may be unique.)

Some of us worship wealth and many of us confuse it with intelligence, which is extra confusing because wealth is rare and intelligence leads away from the direct pursuit of wealth. (Perhaps you know this because you have one or more student loans.)

You want unique? Thanks to recording devices, you can watch reruns of the Andy Griffith show ANY HOUR YOU WANT. You don’t have to wait for someone to invent a time travel machine so you can go back to 1963 and watch it in black and white on CBS like The Man would have you do. You can watch it in your own unique way: at breakfast while drinking a beer milkshake and dreaming of a bigger ladder.

If I have seen further, it is because I have stood on the second-to-last rung of a 22-foot Little Giant Ladder with a 300-pound duty rating.

Earth is unique within the solar system for many reasons. (The variety of lobster forks comes to mind.)

Earth’s passengers? Not unique. We’re all on the same journey, whether it’s buying bottled water in Flint, Michigan, or balancing a jug of water on our head in Zambia. We’re all getting soaked.

But if we’re lucky, we get to play in the snow in April and call it a good day.

This is a good day.

About 16incheswestofpeoria

Former bicycle mechanic, current peruser of books, feeder of birds.
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