I set out with intentions to just walk. To be present. To look. To meet the hills where they are, as they are – asking nothing in return other than having the privilege of one last walk.
It rained last night, leaving a few welcome puddles along the curb and small dusty pools of water on the hood of the car that will take us home tomorrow. The residual cloud cover seemed fitting to my mood.
Continue reading Last Walk
Yes, that is a lost, faded froggie pencil-topper on the side of the road. At first I thought it may have been a crushed robin egg, but of course not. It is autumn. At first, I walked on past it, but curiosity made me retrace my steps, lean down, take a closer look, and if I hadn’t – I would have missed it.
Continue reading I Almost Missed It
We’ve been here long enough to watch things change, as they do – cattails burst giving up of themselves, seedlings for next spring; the littlest of fawns growing up a bit, their soft white spots fading into tawny shades of brown; and orange cones removed, revealing fresh asphalted streets made ready for winter.
I am humbled by this chance to be in one place of beauty for more than a day. I am inspired and reminded to not get stuck or too in love with the ways things were when we arrived, and consider the present state – of the cattails, the fawns, the asphalt – as one shape of the process not the beginning or ending or whole of itself. Like me.
I’ve been here long enough to watch things change in me, and practice releasing what I cling to as unmovable suffering or ultimate sublime.
A little winded, I sat on the bench overlooking first – the ad hoc grassy pitch, then the sidewalk, the road, then the hill to the east and sky. Breathing in, breathing out, I pressed my back against the green grid backrest, shifting my line of sight from left to right, from right to left. And there it was – the slightest temperature change on my face as I turned toward and away from the sun. Shifting sunlight and shadows against my cheek carries sensations I had not noticed until just this moment on this bench.
It’s a delightful reminder – light carries warmth. Denied if I’m busy, irrefutable if I am still and present.
It was All Saints Day 2012 when I first saw this sapling, took her photo, and discovered the purple light while reviewing my pictures at the end of the day. She became what I designated as Trudy’s Tree – my memorial to my sweet sister who had died that January. Each year adding another rock, a small cross created from sloughed-off tree bark, and eventually more rocks contributed by friends also visiting the monastery river walk.
Continue reading Heart for All
This morning I decided that I will let myself walk only the flat surfaces of my usual route. Maybe do that twice instead of pushing, huffing, and puffing, and stressing my heart on the steep hill back up. Practice gentle long strides instead of doing it the hardest way – a lesson that keeps calling to me to practice, but merit-thinking is hard to release. So ingrained in me was:
“You have to do it the hardest way for it to count.”
WRONG! Not right thinking.
We don’t get more gold stars for doing it the hardest way. We find well being in listening to the pace of our souls, and body.
I’m headed out now for my longer, gentler walk.
“Look deeply,” She whispered. “The day is almost done, but there is more – yet a little more beauty for you to enjoy.”