Starting Point

I must start somewhere for leisure or misfortune:

A palm tree outside our door, well spread leaves like wings

I walk with my walking stick to the river in pleasant weather

My balance mildly affected after I contracted long term covid

I slow my walk wary of obstacles, tiny and not always obvious

not evading the voice of reason: “Look and listen.”

I’m not anxious or scared.

I’m not hearing a chorus of voices.

I accept willingly the circumtances

like being aware of bones when eating a whole fish,

not fillet but a whole fish with improved flavor and texture.

A flower bud sprouting along the path

brings desirable pleasure when walking

or a startled bird or a squirrel that looks perplexed

looking one way or another way, leaving

the tree branches quiverring.

Or a starting ipoint can be my neighbor

who greets me a good day expression

and telling me, today is a day to rejoice,

to celebrate his friend’s arrival. 

They met in college, she says.

They plant tulips at the same time 

every year in their own gardens

music they share of different tastes

but Beethoven they both adore.

I have to say goodbye to my friendly neighbor

not every morning starts with a dissertation

though without mention of life’s calamities or extravagance

either of the river or at sea.

The books I’m reading: Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff, The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe and The Science of Learning Physics by Jose P. Mestre and Jennifer L. Docktor

Absence

How should I think of absent friends

What’s the solace when sunset comes

Warm possession of curiosity

Of what they are doing.

But I should not think they are invalids

Or contraindications

Though I don’t know 

When they will return.

I should not allow absence to proliferate

And turn into a mass defection.

Would I understand

There are glorious things

Like mountains and butterflies and saxophone solo

That could pull me away from scenes of the past? 

There should not be labor between friends.

note: I’m sorry I had beenaway for a long time. After our family trip to Alaska on the first day after we returned home I caught Covid 19 infection. I’m still having the longterm effects: marked tiredness and weakness. Walking especially climbing and going down the stairs are struggles. Otherwise I’m fine. I’m thankful I can think and imagine.

I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow.

Weeding

A weed there, a weed here

the inevitability of weeding

I bend and pull, bend and pull

more breathing space for vegetables and flowers

movements, repetitiveness absorbs the time

engrossed in the rigor

delightfulness of ordinary task

on an ordinary day

a blessing when I don’t procrastinate.

Can you see the white egret?

More Questions

Do I have to count my steps to know that my world has changed?

Do I always involve all my senses whenever I go out? 

Do I only remember what I experienced?

Would I remember what I imagined?

These seeds, these black pearls stir imagination.

My time warps

in gravitational universe

Where are you?

If time is ours

a long “sticky cuddle”

-a wide long think.

What is real?

What is controversial?

Did I open a secret?

Mutual learning exposed to the sun

shadows are temporary mists

everything becomes a borrowed book.

All toils

are not in vain.

If time

is ours

well, then

-a long “sticky cuddle.”

Significance

The creek joins the stream

Three streams merge with the river

A bear approaches the water

The river enters the sea

A celebration, meeting of the minds

What does it mean to have confluence, fraternity?

Pages of stories, collected moths

Should I write them down?

I ask my friend.

She laughs, then

Kisses me.

Just remember, she says.

Tide flows upstream.

The breeze carries scent of jasmine

From the forest, to the river, to ocean of consciousness

Reality and what we imagine

With enduring significance.

Beginning

February 4, 2023

Good morning.

First day of my Sabbath Project

I’m a beginner. A believer? Not yet. A faithful? Oh, no. Far from it.

What is the sudden reversal?

The mystical women of the Middle Ages. I’ll start with St. Clare of Assisi and Mechthild of Magdeburg.

What’s Sabbath Project? Getting up at 8am. Meditation for half hour. 

December Twenty Six

at sunrise

a bird leaves

its perch

a tree painted blue

a wind chime hangs from a branch

a bird sings from faraway

a mother looks at her child

imagines colors of her voice

the sun recedes behind the mountains

she adjusts the aperture

takes all the photos

a long story begins

yesterday

a snowstorm

a child was born

Attentiveness

Can the flowers hear

Do butterflies whisper their wishes

I’m alone walking along a forest path

My hair shines in the sun

You can follow me

Wherever you are

I pace my steps

Aware of watchful eyes

I’m reluctant to stray from the path

The mountain may shake

Obliterate my awareness

Dictionary may not suffice

The majesty in scarcity

Can elevate my expectations

Tomorrow I will start early

Inaugurate a new attentiveness.

note: It’s invigorating to be able to walk to the river again. I met a lot of walkers walking their dogs or their friend’s dogs. The air is clear and the sky is blue. Simple things.