I have been walking for one hour everyday for two and a half weeks now. Napa River is near our neighborhood. I follow a loop that takes me about one hour. I stop a lot to observe, take photos and talk to people I meet. Many of them are other walkers and most are walking their dogs.
The photos I posted are some of those phots taken during my walk.
Walking can be a form of calming hour. A new article sings praises for walking:walking
During the last few days I have been walking to the river early in the morning.The day is cool and I need only a light jacket. Today is one of those days.
The path to the river has newly planted bushes like the English laurel. They replaced wild palm trees that become diseased easily.
The regular fishermen have not arrived. There are two gentlemen on the riverbank who are enjoying a conversation and drinking coffee.
The front lawns of the houses along the street are well groomed and have a lot of flowers. I don’t know their names.
I stop often to look at the flowers and take photos. If the fishermen are around I usually talk to them. Very casual conversations. Nothing deep or esoteric.
My walk takes me about 60 minutes because I stop a lot. Sometimes I carry a book and sit on an empty bench to read. I write notes in my mobile phone.
I’m reading currently 3 books: Aristotle’s Way by Edith Hall, Love and St. Augustine by Hannah Arendt and Dancing on the Spider Web, a new novel by Sasha Paulsen, the feature editor of our local newspaper, the Napa Register.
My dream of summer
The wind that leaves the window blinds quivering
The rain that never seems to stop
I fall asleep dreaming of the streets
Covered with deep puddles
I have to skirt around the children
They are jumping in and out, laughing,
Shouting, their faces wet and glowing.
It is summer.
Once upon a time the distance
Between thoughts is eternity
Time has changed
The distance has narrowed
One thought can almost touch the other thought
Yet we ourselves are getting apart
Much farther then ever before
The noises are ever present
And everywhere, no places
Where quietness reigns
Humanity is diminishing like insects
Information floods and displaced truth
The mind is restless and occupied
Not a moment stilled for self reflection
We are walking statues
Blind and deaf to directions
Or how far is self destruction?
“Hatefulness is everywhere.”
Once, I asked you
If you have a map
You smiled and I smiled
We both knew the answer
And we were silent, our faces blank
We walked away sad
With tears in our eyes.
To go far, to do a little
More, we need
To walk together.
The day is raining and windy
I’m walking, holding an umbrella over my head
I’m arguing gainst my thoughts
I think of Hamlet,restless, talking to himself
the ghost and skull behind him
She says she will not be home when I arrive
The day is swiftly gathering darkness
And I’m trying to understand how
an umbrella breaks in a day like today.
I am walking to the river.
Sometimes I whistle when I walk Inviting the breeze to come.
The birds whistle to each other.
They hide within the branches of the trees when it rain.
Their wings become heavy when wet.
Some places flood when it rains.
Places next to a river.
Houses along a river.
Even after repeated floods people don’t want leave.
Some mountains have frequent fires.
People who live there also don’t want to move to another plane.
Some people have perseverance.
They have courage to resist.
The cool breeze comes.
I continue my walk.
Sometimes I think of you. I wonder of what you are doing.
I will see you on Thursday.
note:Color my heart with cookies.
During my walk
when one foot touches the earth
am I honoring someone or something?
The bones buried under the land?
Or the sustenance that rises up the roots
Or the stories heard by the tress told
by storms and musical wind?
I’m resting on a bench, listening
to the music around me, movements
like breaking twigs and leaves scattering
an older lady passes by, we exchange greetings
and talk about the 100 vines of newly planted cabernet,
surrounded by special grain of sand,
on the bend of the walkway.in front of us.
We walk along the path everyday and only
now we do meet. A casual conversation,
tidbits of solace during solitary walks.
They add like intertwining yarn
in beauty and strength.
After a while we say so long
resume our ordinary time.
photo: from m mobile phone.
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.
I have been writing lately mainly about my walks
I’m not that old to know that nasturtiums are edible
The leaves are rich in vitamins and calcium
neglible bitterness which chard also possessed.
I like bitter melons and they are bitter
I don’t have to make it philosophical
like pain and rejections that acceptance makes us stronger
Sweat and scenery ride together each cajoling each other
like two friends ribbing and sometimes hurting each oher
When we were children ghosts made us cry and curious
We told our stories and we laughed.
We follow the bent of our mind with the best effort
without allowing any passing moment without uttering gratitude.
Without a car I am compelled to walk
Which begins as reluctance to accept
converts to a blessing and daily gratitude.
What are these flowers?
Part of the Riverfront walk. Cool and sunny. Nice cloud formations.
Inside Oxbow Public Market
Look for the white heron