The seeds get strayed from the garden
Travel in miles of air
The petals fall like kisses
Or is it kisses like petals falling
Landing on your hair, shoulders and dreams
And I waking remember the fragrance
Of the place where you once walk.
I remember you telling me
Not to get anchored in dreams
“Shape your future in reality,” you said.
The egret standing on the riverbank
Remains like a statue
When a boat passes by
The egret looks at me
as if asking a question
Will a rose remains a rose
If no one looking?
The friendly egret
The sidewalk where I walk
Today I went for my walk before I had my breakfast. It was 53F and the sun was trying to peek behind the clouds. A light brown, tall poodle lumbered out from a door and ran ahead of me. I heard a young woman called out, “Mozart, Mozart, come back.” The woman and I exchanged pleasantries. I remarked that she has a beautiful dog. I met a walker with his dog, a smaller one thanMozart. We greeted each other, Good morning. They were walking on opposite direction.
I continued my walk to the river. A few fishermen were socializing among themselves. Their lines resting on the riverbank.
Two towering palm trees across each other on the sidewalk greeted passerby’s. They remind me of a warmer place somewhere. The yucca plants did not give me a similar memory.
Perhaps because of a rain for the last 2 days the street was fairly clean. The birds sang joyfully.
By the time I turned around to walk back home the sun has burst out. The top of the hills has risen above the clouds. The breeze 55F grazed my face like a whisper.
My morning of holy moments.
If I’m blindfolded I will not see the hummingbird feeding.
I can hear a waterfall.
If I’m blindfolded I will not see the stars
I can hold a fishing pole and cast a line.
If I’m blindfolded I will not see the rain
i can hold a purring cat.
If I’m blindfolded I can’t say there’s only light
If my eyes are open I will be blinded by the sun.
If I’m blindfolded I will not be able to drive.
I can play chess.
If I’m blindfolded I will not juggle a lighted torch.
I can whistle.
If I’m blindfolded I will not see the waves
I can ride the crest.
With my eyes open I can be blind.
In scarcity I can find gratitude.
Simplicity of life and death.
Then I meet you.
87 degrees, sunny with some breeze. Mrs. Abstract kisses me goodbye. She is going to play Mexican Train with her friends from the Women’s Guild. I have a good reason to stay home and read.
Athletes subject themselves to “rigorous and exhausting discipline, giving up many comforts and pleasures.The contemplatives, (or monks) also submit themselves also to rigorous regimen.
When I consider the disciplines of the athletes and monks and compare them to myself I’m a small pebble in comparison. Their stories are distant but not too far away from me.
I pick my staff, and my cap and go out the house and start walking towards the river.
A man, paraplegic, sitting on a wheelchair under a shade of a tree near the river, greets me with smile. He is enjoying the breeze. After a short conversation, we part after wishing each other a good day.
While standing on the river bank I see a sail boat with two riders coming to the inlet. I wave to them and the man greets me. I greet him back and wish the two riders a good day.
Returning from the river I meet a gentleman wearing a yellow cap and sitting on a bench. We start talking. I am 93, he says when I ask him how old he is.
Returning home I see a man and his dog walking from the opposite end of the walkway.We exchange pleasantries. He introduces his dog as a cockerpood. He says it’s a breed between a cocker spaniel and a poodle. She is a quiet dog, hardly barks her master says.
My cell phone says 4 miles and 9,000 steps. It may not be accurate..
The meaning of reality is how one faces reality.
Every journey begins with the first step
Or the first mistake
That’s not their vacation’s first day
But a day in the water, kayaking
They have never done it before
Like Icarus flying with man-made wings
Excitement hums, quiver of holding
The quill, the first words written
The power of the first decision
First acts of youth, memories are written.
They are in the water with others
all listening to the tour guide
history of the river, fauna and flora of the place,
prepare and be aware of dangers
mirth and fun and a mix of caution
What a day and days to come
They can be optimists.
Saturday, blue skies and sunny
What will you do with your friends?
Stroll in the farmer’s market,
or bicycle on the Vine Trail,
but with your best friend-
paddle board on the river.
note: Instead of walking to the river from the condo I did something slightly different today.
Mrs. Abstract and I drove to Synergy, the Wellness Center next to the hospital, While she was doing her aquatic exercises I walked to the Woodlands Trail, 1.2 miles paved trail, which runs along Napa River. It took me 15 minutes to get to the trailhead. I am a slow walker.The temperature was in the high 60’s with a cool breeze. The trail is lined by trees and really a forest between the trail and Napa River. Lot of shadows on the trail with some patches in open air and all sunny.
I Walked the trail then walked back to Synergy. I worked out for 45 minutes then returned home.
I have to gain back my cardiac fitness. Last time I saw my physician, he told me I was getting lazy. I was not doing enough of my fitness program. Remember I had my cardiac surgery January 2017.
A friend picked up Mrs. Abstract after her aquatics and they went to lunch.
note: Napa River at the Napa Riverfront