practicing scales

I recently read an interview with David Sedaris in which he mentioned that he would habitually, every day, write about one memorable thing from the day before. He described it as akin to a pianist playing scales. I really liked the thought of that. As an aspiring writer, I've always been told that the most fundamental thing to do is just to write. Write a lot, and frequently. That's difficult to do with small children around, a dearth of ready-to-go subjects, as well as, oh, my own lack of self-discipline.

But Sedaris' idea of this writerly habit is appealing because it's a small but purposeful thing. And even if on some days, I might end up just describing an amazing bowl of ramen I inhaled the day before, it's at least as meaningful as practicing the scales. So let me try to do this.

What was the most memorable thing that happened to me yesterday? Going for a more-than-3K-but-less-than-4K-probably run after almost a full month of hiatus. I almost didn't do it because of a missed connection with an usual running partner, and also I started feeling tired and headache-y from the hours of internet news reading and crying over the deaths of the three Israeli teenagers. Despite the long absence from running, and the definite increased amount of fat jiggling on my arms and legs as I ran, I felt really strong, totally unfazed by the hilly terrain. It cleared my head. The entire back of my Jerusalem Marathon jersey got soaked, causing it to stick to my skin, and sweat beads rolled from my hairline down the sides of my head. Along with these droplets, out of my body, were the frustrations and sadness and fear I had been feeling all day for the people of this region, both Jews and Arabs.

It may be a good thing we're leaving this country next month, and I don't know how the rising tensions and accompanying actions are going to affect my plans to visit parts of Judea/Samaria aka the West Bank a few weeks from now. I am incapable of staying zen over the very real possibility that everything might at any minute, in very real terms, explode into all-out violence. Not so much frantic over my own safety, but the rising body counts of complete innocents and the ugly shouts for more hatred and condemnation... these are already more than enough.