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Morning Walk

My feet carry me, striding out at first, strong, swift and purposeful on my early morning walk. But I am a distracted walker. I notice so many things within minutes that I slow to look closer, then to squat and gaze and wonder: at the glow of lamps on a porch; the lines of leaded window-panes; even the indefinable “sense” of a household asleep behind closed blinds. Light dances with shadow on a sloping bank of wild grasses and flowers. Already I am both captivated and trying to capture what I see if I can. I pass a wooden porch attached to an old home, and the morning light catches its peeling rafters. How many people have sat beneath them, I wonder? Who were they? I imagine visiting friends, sharing confidences and laughter, children on their haunches, lips slack, absorbed in their imaginary world of play. This morning a wiry woman hunches over, legs crossed, elbows on knees, looking deep in thought, smoking what I guess is her first cigarette of the day. The smoke wafts its way into…

Morning Walk

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Eyes wide open I walked; but phone resolutely tucked away, for the purpose of my walk is to be "with God," not clicking away, like a distracted tourist. But aren't I a tourist? Here on earth, we all visit for a relatively short time, and shouldn't we pay attention? And so I did, and noticed seeds, and thought of the rhythm of arriving plump with purpose and possibility in this world, and then seeding "our ground" before we leave. And then, back home, I peered from behind a mug of steaming and strong black coffee, at a page of poetry. And Mary Oliver spoke to me her thoughts: "For it is precisely how I feel, who have inherited not measurable wealth but, as we all do who care for it, that immeasurable fund of thoughts and ideas, from writers and thinkers long ago gone into the ground--and, inseparable from those wisdoms because DEMANDED by them, the responsibility to live thoughtfully and intelligently. To enjoy, to question--never to assume, or trample...…

Morning Walk

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My morning walk with God is like the pastry of my day. Once you have the perfect foundation laid, whatever fills it will create a beautiful thing.

Morning Walk

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I walk the chattering, chirping morning village that smells as green and fresh as the day it's waking up to. I am an arrow: pointed; focused; sharp; thrust strongly; my feathers sleek, propelled by the hand of God towards his mark for this good day.

Contagious Thoughts 5

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I walked through our village this summer evening, listening to the rustle and whisper in the treetops--the delicate leafy applause that seems spontaneous, as though an unseen hand or the trees themselves are giving their branches a gentle shake.The world is “opening up,” and this is the first weekend where we may gather in circles of chosen friends and family members. The village hummed with groups of people in backyards, and front lawns, revelling in the sudden delight of those beyond their immediate household.It was after attending church on March 15 that I stopped at a grocery store for a few last-minute necessities. Everywhere store shelves were suddenly empty of pasta, cereals, all kinds of dry goods, and especially paper goods like toilet rolls. It felt as though a storm was on the way and we were battening down the hatches!For several weeks, we've followed the instructions of government officials to stay home unless we had an urgent need. We soon became familiar with the ma…

Contagious Thoughts 4

For the first time in two months, we made what felt like our maiden voyage to Costco-in-the-age-of. COVID-19. I set my alarm to get up early, being warned by a friend to get there at 7.40 for the 8.00 a.m. opening for “Seniors Hour.”Paul dropped me off with my bags at the door and went to wait for me in the car.

The first thing I saw was a long line of seniors, spaced out like early-birds on a wire. The line stretched way back around the corner of the building. When I thought I had arrived at the end of the line, I had not. It was just the end where the store manager was trying to corral renegade seniors and herd them over to the real end of the line. But he had met the generation of “sit-ins” and protest marches, and they were not to be easily moved, except for me, rule follower that I am. I left my fellow seniors complaining to the manager. I imagined them being dragged away like long-haired hippies, as I marched quickly over to the far end of the line.
When I got to the correct spot,…

Contagious Thoughts 3

There is music in the air of "opening up" the world again, a little at a time, and very carefully. How exciting this is! On Saturday a prescription was waiting for me at our local Shopper's Drug Mart.  Paul drove me there and waited outside like an accomplice in a getaway car! Since I was "going in," I made a list of other items and picked them up, including at long last, a much-needed box of hair colour. I chose with great care, L'Oreal 9N Light Natural Blonde. My dark roots were an inch out-of-the-gate, and not adding value to my appearance one bit! I felt like a kid let out of school as I roamed the aisles, carefully avoiding close proximity with the other humans creeping around the store in the same unnatural manner. When I left the store for my getaway car, clutching my haul of shower gel, body lotion, hair colour, face cream (sigh, okay, I confess, "neck tightening" cream,) a box of cereal, candy bars, and the medication that started this sp…