Blindness

7EAEBE0F-D6D1-4CFB-BA02-D426EEE22DFFThe past are things I do not know

The present are things I can not touch

The future is a cat in the act of jumping

“Deep in your soul you don’t want to be the last.”

I decide I will go south

To master something I have to comprehend it first

I will carry a camera with a simple admonition

“How can I make them blind to my presence?”

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A Palm Tree Blooms.

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Accumulation of solitudes, tumult of the heart diminishes 

until it’s just a whisper, light as a leaf

You have been longing 

to know your real self

During your walk

or when alone in the river

You feel your deep affinity with nature

with other creatures

Alone with the blue heron

or with other traveler

Pandemic awakens your consciousness,

shakens by injustice.

Beware when all the running stops

numbness sets in and silence.

Out of weariness and withered trees 

love will rise.

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Questions

We talked for hours

We compared our separate memories:

notebooks, cupcakes, candlelight dinners

Coming out at night after we ran out of dreams

Our arms were still empty

and waiting

like two anglers standing on a river bank

reviewing the science of angling,

studying the river landscape

Where are the insects?

the shadows, the deep hiding places

silence of pride and pleasure.

Imagine if life is timeless.

They pause for lunch.

Do the fish miss also the fisherman?

Tomorrow

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

Farther than before

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.

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A new reality

81658AAF-5D6C-47D2-9A20-137EF11DF7F4D3B33BE0-1D61-44BF-B041-68A3D96D5D8648CD0786-2971-40D8-9013-DA60303EA9F923BFC7D2-A92F-462E-93FF-B4BBD7C24759We 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.

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At The River

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8E5397D0-B672-47FF-B507-0F5BFDB8A7D5At The River

The lines are cast

The fish are not biting

A fisherman wonders why

I don’t know

From a distance in the walking path

Two walkers are approaching

Ask them the question when they arrive.

The base of a tree is surrounded by stones

The other trees are not.

It’s winter even in a tiny vineyard

Meantime I’m walking back home

I’m thinking what I will have for lunch

Will xfinity know?

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LOVE

96E2467C-3A72-4868-941C-497F41C3DF48626EF6D4-6982-4099-B01B-905BDD18F047Love

Walking around the kitchen, dining room

She notices words on boxes, objects on the walls

On papers lying around the tables

She hears the sounds, sees images, juxtapositions

She remembers her mother

making wreaths out of corks

She arranges her own

Made of mushrooms and marshmallows, crackers and fruits

She remembers when her mother took her to an art museum

They saw Monet’s paintings of haystacks and water lilies

She remembers her mother

took her and toured a pineapple plantation

She imagines Monet painting

rows and rows of pineapples

How about rows and rows of olive trees

Will he get tired of them?

She wishes she can ask her mother

She will know.