Still Not

If ever there were a day that I were going to miss, then this would be one. I’ve been in talking with Richard Leider since early morning about the new book, then out for a drink or two with my old friend Chad and now, after midnight (Minneapolis time, so I’m still good for Seattle) settling down in bed.

And yet, for whatever reason—commitment, stubbornness, absurdity—I’m going to carry on the 327 words a day project once more, even if today’s entry won’t be posted until tomorrow or the day after.

I think we made a bit of a breakthrough on the new book this evening; we were re-reading a Rumi poem called “Wean Yourself,” that more or less describes the human development process from an embryo living on blood through and infant drinking milk to an adult eating food and concludes with a line about, in the end, becoming a “hunter of more invisible game.”

So, we think we are changing the title to Hunting the Invisible Game, which strikes us both as what we’re really doing all through, but especially in later life as we plan our day to save and savor the world (which may be close to what the subtitle ultimately is.)

The writing process itself is kind of a hunt for invisible game: the message we’re trying to communicate is out there, evanescent and ephemeral, and yet it can be captured if we proceed with authenticity and wholeheartedness.

Richard and I spent a while during our discussions watching his cat stalk unseen prey through the bushes and brush in his front yard. Isabella (our four-legged feline friend) moved with a focus and precision that seems to me a model for how a life of purpose and commitment could look.

I’m not advocating pouncing upon mice as a goal to which we should aspire; I would, though, endorse living as fully in the moment as Isabella, hunting our own invisible game.