Ah yes, it is getting fun now.
The trails are almost completely clear of snow, but the single track isn't quite ready to ride yet. The days are getting so long that I almost wake to light at 4 in the morning and when I go to bed, it looks like five in the afternoon.
It is a glorious time for getting outside and just loving Alaska!
Of course, this also means that it is going to get harder and harder to focus on work. Yes, I said it. Work. During the summers it is really hard to think about anything having to do with work.
With dipnetting, biking, hiking, camping, dipnetting, canoeing, kayaking, and all the other stuff to do, work seems like the least of my worries.
It'll be nice to have a break. Things have been crazy lately. Busy with work. Real busy, so a break will be nice.
Until then I will just have to ponder the nature of reality. The essential question is this: Is reality independent of thought. Meaning do events in my life only happen because I think them into being or does the world exist if we don't? I realize that I am painting with a large brush here, and that humanity is not a necessary component to the existence of the world. But there is the thought that the details of a life and the things that happen in a life, the good and the bad, the explicable and inexplicable can only happen because we have thought them into being.
Or the idea that if one chooses one path over the other in life that everything about that life would be different. Of course, there is the school of thought (Back to the Future) that says that if you change even a single decision, no matter how insignificant, that the course and direction your life takes from that point forward is fundamentally altered from what it was. Though, there is the flip side. The consequence of making one decision or another is that there is no consequence because only one path exists, not choosing option B means that option B never existed anyway, because you've already made your decision even before presented with the option and by knowing the decision you've dreamed your reality into being, first and last and always.
Hmmm... maybe I should read novels by Italian philosophers. (Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco). Moreover, I probably shouldn't foist it on my son as a good read for him.