Steinbeck said he had a hard time writing about something while it was happening. Anytime he kept journals, especially while on the road trip he took that became so famous, he said it was almost impossible for him to record something while it was happening. He needed time for it to germinate. To brew. To grow in his mind until the memory became just as important as the event itself.
For me, I go back-and-forth. I love to let something simmer in my imagination for a while. But I also enjoy looking at the moment while it is happening, always trying to be ready for what it might teach me.
Yesterday, me and my Houston Brothers rode 200 miles handlebar-to-handlebar swooping through the curves of the Texas Hill Country. Every corner, every vista, even the straightaways, all testified to the beauty of Texas. And going through it on a motorcycle... well... use your imagination.
I put down a lot of miles by myself. I guess it matches my personality. I love being with people, but I also need the alone time to recharge. And though I have always been a loner, I have to admit that yesterday with my brothers was one of the best rides I can remember.
When I woke up this morning, greeted by a Texas sunrise, all I could think about was the memory of yesterday that took almost no time at all to grow in my imagination, a memory to me that is now downright valuable.