"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."
— Cormac McCarthy, The Road
The river is high and boastful. Churning wild in some places and ever so lazy in others. Along the gravel path where we walk, the signs of spring are more pronounced on the bank side, there are even some flowers thinking about blooming. On the river side however, it is still winter; colder, fewer buds and less growth. The sun is not out, but there are moments of filtered light. His nose never leaves the ground, except when there is a treat involved. We walk for what I know is about two miles, and I start to feel anxious, afraid the sky will open up at any moment and there we will be, caught in the downpour.
He and I are both waterproof, but my camera. . . not so much! We make it back to the car just as it starts to sprinkle.
Isn't it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about
spiritual patience? Isn't it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?
Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.
Every morning, so far, I'm alive. And now
the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
and burst up into the sky—as though
all night they had thought of what they would like
their lives to be, and imagined
their strong, thick wings."
— Mary Oliver, Dream Work
1. i have been swimming laps early in the morning, home by 7:00 with the whole day ahead of me
2. i never get tired of walking along the river
3. listen to this, if you have time
“I would say about individuals, an individual dies when he ceases to be surprised. I am surprised every morning that I see the sun shine again. When I see an act of evil, I’m not accommodated... I’m still surprised. That’s why I’m against it, why I can hope against it. We must learn how to be surprised. Not to adjust ourselves. I am the most maladjusted person in society.” Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel
how was your week?