#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Charles River, Sunday Morning Walk
“To walk abroad is, not with eyes,
But thoughts, the fields to see and prize;
Else may the silent feet,
Like logs of wood,
Move up and down, and see no good
Nor joy nor glory meet. . . “
~Excerpt from “Walking,” by Thomas Traherne
My one walk is three walks: first, with Frank, a slow ramble with the dogs under a bright sky to sit on the bench by the river together. A woodpecker pecked a woody shrub behind us, our soundtrack. Charlie drank the Charles. Suzi sat at high alert, waiting to be told what’s next. We strolled across the field and imagined where we’ll grow a vegetable garden soon. Frank went in, and I went on with Charlie and walked by the brook and realized, in my unsettled mood, that listening to music would help. Sam Baker, my soundtrack, I share a song, “Pretty World,” above. Then, a text from my daughter who was writing a paper for school; she wanted to join me. We met and talked and saw the geese and mallards in the wetlands, giving us great hope and cheer. We headed home; my phone rang, and my daughter went in and I kept walking around in the yard talking through an issue, listening to a friend. These days are exceedingly short. They are so busy. One activity after another: I wrote an obituary for my husband’s mother and planned the service. And then it was time to make a chili for dinner. Then we met on Zoom with wonderful friends and meditated and caught up with each other, a joyful activity, and the musician son of our friends played and sang two songs for us!. How amazing that we can still connect like this. This 24-hours whizzed by, whizzed by. And I haven’t yet sorted out a poem for tomorrow night, but I am very much looking forward to poetry. I have not lived this day without making a mistake and apologizing for it. I see that I need to practice even more mindfulness. I was pleased when the lid of my pot on the stove was opened, dishes filled by hungry family members. And I cleaned the kitchen up gratefully tonight. I have bursts of energy and exhaustion still. Both are necessary. The geese are teaching me about practicing mindfulness.
