Hello, Mr. Moose Head with the Hookah: or, Escaping the Staleness

Tonight I hopped on my bike not knowing where I’d be riding it. The further away I rode from my house, the more the pieces fell into place.

A street here.

An uphill climb there.

A brand new coffee shop where I’d yet to sit and sip and ruminate.

This place I found downtown is part-bookstore, part-bar, part-coffee shop: a two-story mixed breed of the coffee shop species. Turquoise pipes line the ceiling, and a man plays guitar down below. I’m sitting on the second-floor balcony next to a giant bust of a moose with a sparkly red hat, and he’s breathing from a hookah pipe.

How have I lived in this city for 9 months and not typed a single word here?

As much as I miss roaming around a continent because so much newness waits around every mountainous deserty foresty metropolitan corner, I’m reminded on nights like tonight that newness is here and now in the same city, too. Coffee shops I’ve yet to frequent. Trails I’ve yet to hike. People and stories I’ve yet to encounter.

I need to remember to keep wandering. Even when staying put.

There’s always more to explore. The only question is whether we will step into the newness around us or seclude ourselves in the safe staleness.

What’s that, Mr. Moose Head? Oh no, I’m fine. The hookah is all yours.

This is Day 18 of #MakeNovemberTolerable. Keep checking back every day this month for new stories and discoveries of beauty where beauty may be hard to find.