In the past two days I have driven over sixteen hours including a trip to JFK airport and another to Pittsburgh. The easy response to such a feat is to express exhaustion, which I have done to sympathy from my wife and friends.

This is not my take-away, however. Driving so much is an incredible opportunity for reflection and to connect with passengers and, when possible, friends and family over the phone. 

As for reflection, it was time for me to consider the amount of projects that I am working on right now. “Working on” might be a stretch, I realized. Just because I have been thinking about doing something, does that mean I can count it as something I’m working on?

I have a divided mind on this. As for counting this as current work, I am writing outlines and sketching and making lists of steps for these things, including my Corn Dog Empire, my writer’s nook, a locust paver driveway extension, an attic truss conversion to build a master bedroom closet, a backyard pond, a grass to woods and mulch beds conversion in the front yard, two music albums, a cartoon strip, and an online poetry class taught only with poems. I spent time thinking about all of these things on my drives.

On the other hand, there is no way I can juggle all of these even if I had no other commitments. And because there are so many, many of these ideas, I sometimes feel frozen with them, each one, at times, filled with such excitement that I cannot think about doing the others. 

A possible way to deal with my conflicted mind, with this stress, is to prioritize. Which I have attempted, with lists of what needs to be done and then what best meets my current interest. So simple, it seems.

The trouble I encounter is the things that are already current commitments: taking care of my mom, housework, yardwork, mentoring the local middle school Future City team, training from my upcoming triathlon (which includes biking, running, swimming and functional resistance training with my personal trainer twice a week), being an attentive and loving husband, father, dog-owner and friend, tending our garden, and soon jamming berries. 

There are also distractions. One such distraction is working on this line tensioner I designed a year ago before I spent a week hiking with my son Oliver on the Appalachian Trail. It looks a bit like a frog and is 3D printed. I have dozens of them around the house right now and I keep thinking of changes I’d like to make. I am currently using them to hold the grow lights above the baby pepper plants I’m growing in the basement. I have two lines attached to a bar on the ceiling and these tensioners allow me to quickly adjust the height of the lights without the need to tie any knots. 

I am also easily pulled into puzzles–sudoku, chess, and many types from my subscription to Games magazine. 

And I love relaxing in the hammock I have at the edge of our woods.

The truly most important project, I know, is taking care of my health, both physically and mentally. Training for a triathlon is not enough, though it does wonders for both. Lying in the hammock is not enough. 

Taking care of my health must be a conscious, reflective act. Health is the foundation for everything else. 

Oliver introduced me to Ross Gay and his writing about inciting joy. That has become a focus for me, both in my writing and my daily practice, to recognize and celebrate the wonders in my life that exist alongside the struggles. 

On my way back from Pittsburgh I called my friends Tim and Cindy. It was the one year anniversary of a trip we took to Trader Joe’s while visiting them in Waynesboro, Virginia and starting my AT hike with Oliver. We bought these dehydrated baby bananas and at first were amazed at how delicious they were. Then, suddenly, they weren’t. And we laughed and laughed. Again during our call we laughed and laughed, so much that my voice became a bit hoarse on the drive.

There are stories and memories enveloping our friendship that burst forth when we see each other and talk. After we talked I sat in precious joy, the gift that their friendship is to me. That all friendships are. Few have lasted as long though, have so instantly flashed back to fullness, even years and miles between connections.

So many might, though, given the pursuit of such joy. Technology affords me the chances. I just need to take them.

In this complicated, stressful world, we all do.