Where will they hide, the feral cats?
Cranes have ancient places to migrate to
With years added to years one thinks
Of these things like pointed pursuits.
One idea takes hold of another idea
Like rising pitch of a siren hurrying to a destination
Cranes know where to go
And where to return.
Dreams can be deep in the subconscious
Will functional imaging know?
Subconscious messages wanting explanations
Who will quote them?
Somewhere new light is emerging
The eagerness is hard to stop
Shortening years do not dwell on losses
Not in darkness but in new striving.
Life is to be mastered and celebrated
Life can be full to the end.
Can I see it or feel it?
I walk to the river
The part of the world opens
Other walkers walk alone
Or with their dogs or with other walkers
Nature greets us in songs and colorful displays
Do we need measurements
And ask : Will experience be sublime?
We are sheltered in for more than 2 months now. There are changes that everyone has noticed before: air is cleaner, less cars driving in the neighborhood, in the highways, the hills and mountains can be seen clearly. The world is new again.
But uncertainties remain. Vulnerability exposed. Maybe the same “vulnerability that songbirds feel every single day of their lives” as noted by Robin Wall Kimmerer., author of Braiding Sweetgarss.
Time is time. Not timeless.The pandemic reminds us of our impermanence.
There are now easings of restrictions. Our yearning for open space is more urgent. Will human touch be a strange feeling?
Tomorrow we hope to be curious again. Or maybe for the first time.
Tomorrow when I go out of the door I will be seeing a new world. One says, “ every beginning is monumental.” I will try to believe it.
note: 2 weeks ago I was hospitalized for 4 days. I was very sick with an infection. Not cobid-19. I was negative.
I am home now and recovering favorably. I hope to resume walking to the river again everyday.
The book currently I’m reading or should I say I am listening at is Brading Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer
What is the danger of idleness?
Life can be an opposite of what you remember.
Ascending and descending from memory can be a restless dream
Until the rooster crows
Sometimes age doesn’t offer certainty but doubt
But should everyone experience endurance?
Amidst the stings you want to taste the hive
Look deep and make your own conclusion
We are supposed to use our imagination
A toil for every tree to build a forest
Does everything have to be clean and tidy?
Free of disorder?
Do we all have to come home?
The question can remain unsaid
But then it may appear as evasion
There are other challenges
Will they understand?
I have a mountain of books to read
Books are scattered everywhere in the house
I will call and ask you where to start reading
The garage is full of non-essentials
My hours need occupants
On most days I walk in the neighborhood.
Now is the time that I should go deeper in my learning
Not my usual ordinary way to please myself.
It’s sad to realize it takes a pandemic to wake me up.
Time is emptying like food on the shelves.
eagerness, a fresh approach of interest
very dark now
time to chase fireflies
immersed in dancing lights
lost in time
the tree pulsates
darkness and light
can one get lost,
adrift at sea
I walked farther today than the previous days: three miles. I crossed Napa River on an elevated bridge and connected to the river trail, to the downtown then returned home on another street.
It was 65 degrees, sunny with a cool breeze. I met along the way other walkers and cyclists. We all practiced the safe distancing. There colorful flowers and plants and art.
I stopped a lot to take photos.
We are sheltered in.
Allowed to go out to take walks
Or get basic essentials for daily living.
I walk to the river for fresh air and scenery
The clouds form many disguises
The blue heron comes then flies away
Horses nonchalant in its movements
Tiny flowers adorn the lawn
My daily miracle.
After correction of errors, a shift in imagination
The weight lifted lighten the wings for wider spaces
The stories written with new desire for understanding
Seeing and describing reality.
The moments of waiting before the unfolding
Is utter loneliness.
The objects of desire are well illustrated
Ushered in the open air.
We forget defeats, remember victories
The painful ones, the hardest ones
Written in the bones, carried in the tears
We smile and say, why not.
The art of fresh approach, act of integration
The next story of enchantment we will write
As if we are thinking of immortality
We are offering our homage and gratitude.