Some days, I have deep and interesting insights into the philosophy and reality of geocaching. This is not one of those days. Some days, life just happens, and I grab a cache in between the ebbs and flows of existence. Maybe I’m driving home from work or running an errand. Maybe I’m grabbing dinner or feeling bored. Sometimes (a little more frequently than I like to admit), I’m busy not writing when I should be. But, as much as I tout that every cache is special in its own way (and I still maintain that), not every experience is magical or earthshaking, and not every find leaves me with new things to ponder. I’m not Immanuel Kant over here, writing page after page to support some great idea that will shape caching for you or me. And that’s all right. Sometimes, I have thoughts and ideas I don’t wish to get into for one reason or another. They might be ill formed, fleetingly vapid, or, in a few cases, regrettable and wrongheaded on later reflection. Sometimes, it’s more meditative. There is no thought; all that matters is the feeling of the sun on my face, the smell wafting on the wind, and not getting poked in the face by something I didn’t see because I was fixated on finding the cache.
Inveni, inscripsi, reposui. It has become a motto, a mantra of sorts. And when words fail, they are a beacon I can aim for, a lodestone I can return to, a compass that points the way. No higher thought. Just me and the cache.
I am so sorry, but I have nothing deep or interesting for you today. I only have the practice of searching and finding. I’m sure the monastics of old would understand. Or some kind of crap like that.
Geocaching While Black 