1. Morning walks. I haven’t been taking as many pictures, partly because we’ve stayed away from most of the rivers and ponds (mosquito and tick season over here), and have spent more of our time walking around our neighborhood and the city parks. And yet, this is the list I made yesterday in my writing group after our morning walk, inspired by a line from a John O’Donohue poem, “For a New Beginning” — Then the delight.
“Then the delight — the light, the way it reflected off the clouds filled not quite full enough to rain, the rabbit that lives around the corner, that chair left out on the curb for whoever may claim it that I bless every morning we walk past it saying to the people inside that house “no one wants that chair,” the flowerbeds of the house where the person who used to work at Creekside Nursery lives, the house next door to that where at least two small kids live and the tiny pink table and chairs stacked on the lawn with not one but two play kitchens on the front porch, the two little libraries (one for adults and one for children) at the church on the corner, the deer in the front yard of the house next to the school, the four little dogs — two chihuahuas and two yorkie terrier mixes — that Eric has told me about but I’ve never seen who ran out to the fence to bark at Ringo, having to run to avoid the sprinklers watering the ball fields, the tiny dragonfly by the pond, the woman who walked by us with her cattle dog who said to the dog and not us “another blue heeler!” and I thought how strange it was that yes they were blue but they were actually both black rather than that gray we call blue, the way the wind brushed against that one tree while the sun kissed its back, all the tiny newly hatched grasshoppers, the ponds — yes previously gravel pits but now an unofficial bird sanctuary, the water rushing through the drainage ditch, the soft cluck of chickens in that one yard, the dog that came around the corner big as a deer, reaching the road when there was no traffic and not needing to wait or rush to cross over, the three dogs on their back deck so excited to see us, the trail they mowed through the field, the guy sitting in a lawn chair in his front yard listening to a podcast or audiobook, the way Linda’s yard is hers but also a little bit still Barb’s, the “ditch lilies” and newly bloomed delphiniums and the nest in our lilac bush, how it feels to walk in to the cool and quiet of our house, the sound of Ringo drinking water from his bowl, the text from Eric, the newly watered grass, the mug of hot green tea, and Ringo curled up next to me asleep.”
2. Practicing together. In particular, my writing sangha and Red Sage yoga class. I suppose I could also include my aqua aerobics class and small group training.
3. Feeding people. My niece texted me the other day to ask for my pasta slaw recipe and when Chloe’ visited, I was able to give her a pan of baked ziti so she didn’t have to figure out dinner that night. It’s my default response in a crisis or when I don’t otherwise know how to help, the one thing I know I can do and that people need.
4. Ice cream for dinner. Eric and I were both “in our feelings” yesterday, tired and sad and a bit anxious, so we skipped dinner and went to Dairy Queen instead.
5. My tiny family, small house, little life. I’m so happy that Ringo is doing so much better. And I’m so lucky to have a partner in this life like Eric.
Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray) 