The table sits in front of three huge bay windows.
The windows look out upon Puget Sound.
Sailing on these gray waters are cargo ships.
The cargo ships are towed to port by powerful little tugs.
I refer to the open book as I traverse back and forth between my work station and the kitchen.
On the stove in the kitchen I keep a French Press carafe of coffee.
The coffee seems to help me through the day.
On this day, I read a passage from the open book, bookmarked to page 154 of Richard Bach's autobiographically metaphysical opus, Running from Safety.
"You never asked for change, you never asked for what you loved and you never found it, you never hurled yourself into the world that mattered most to you, never fought dragons that you thought could eat you up, never inched yourself out on cliffsides clinging by the tips of your skill a thousand feet over destruction because your life was there and you had to bring it home from terror! Choice, Dickie! Choose what you love and chase it at top speed and I your future do solemnly promise that you will never die from so what."
I sip the coffee, look out the window at the tugs on the gray water and return to my work, enriched.
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