The 30 | Friends
Many of us move through life like rockets on a perpetual return to Earth. We shroud ourselves each morning with individual heat shields to guard against the cataclysmic burn and burden of living in a complex, global society. Our barriers take various forms as we navigate the days, but we set them aside around our friends.
In that spirit -- and with the knowledge that gratitude offers an antidote for plenty of the world's ills -- this month's reading, watching, and listening comes from the people I know.
Photographers, podcasters, and writers around me live their passions for wild animals, drunk animals, and disappearing animals.
My friends tell stories about wars we can't see and war's relationship to athletic greatness. Lots of my friends are athletes themselves, and some have created communities based around free fitness -- and free ice cream. There's also soup and sin tonic in my circles. Join the fun if you're near some of these places.
One of my newest friends is a long-long-distance athlete: he's walking the entire world. Another friend pops in at intervals to document the trek.
People close to me tend to travel far away. Sometimes as guides, sometimes as the guided: "It’s as if he were the wind, or the weather itself.” My friends leave to escape the darkness, but they also charge toward the voids -- to carry the light, to shepherd understanding.
Every one of you, and more not mentioned in this brief missive, thank you for inspiring me.
A coda for this month of reflection is offered by a college track and field teammate of mine, published here for the first time.
I collect my thoughts like leaves,
rake the autumn of my mind
each memory a hue of green, yellow, red
until a cold wind sweeps the barren trees of my dreams