If it weren’t for the trees and apartment complexes and fancy restaurants and quaint coffee shops and the cathedral, I would be able to see my office from home. So it only makes sense that instead of paying the $50-1oo/month to park at work, I simply get myself there. Most days by bike, some by a slow stroll under giant boulevard trees.
It is good for the body, certainly. 2 miles in. 2 miles back home again. Every day. Rain or shine. But it is good for the mind too. It separates the two lives– work and home. It’s close enough that the good mood stays intact between the two, but far enough that the bad gets dropped somewhere on the hill. Sometimes I am so busy flurrying between thoughts, that I forget to close one out before I start a new one. But not on my bike rides or walk. There is just enough time to think something all the way through, come to peace with it, and continue on by the time I get to the front steps of the apartment.
After a particularly hectic day today and a late afternoon in the office, I remember thinking I wish we got paid in accordance to our good mood and enthusiasm. And for trying new things. And for not being too embarrassed about being bad at stuff (but maybe just enough to keep us human). I wish we got paid to be good neighbors and for every time we stopped to scratch a passing dog behind his ears. I could be rich if things were this way.
And today I was especially thankful for the bike ride home because it gave me just enough time to remember that I do get paid for these things, just not in a bank account or checkbook or piggy bank. In something far greater than cash assets. Sort of life assets, if you will. And while I cannot afford much, I can afford to stop to talk to my neighbor about his garden, and I can afford to scratch the dog behind his ear at the stoplight where I wait to cross the street. I can afford to get just as excited about old things as new things. I can afford to try and accomplish most anything I want. And I am rich because things are this way.