Saturday, December 11, 2010
Walking Meditation
Walking takes a long time to learn, but once you've got it you've got a pretty valuable tool. Mine I use in the morning to take me in the dawn haze past the lives of others whose lights are beginning to illuminate their breakfasts, their worries about the job, the kids, especially Mary that they haven't heard from in six weeks and I hope she hasn't left school and gone off with that bum.
The yards I pass are dark little patches of possibility. I particularly like one where a few strands of Christmas lights along the garage make the back a festive private cafe in Venice with no surly waiter wanting to close up. It keeps open a little promise of something else, as the full light of day fixes all possibilities on the one that is really the way it is until like Puck and the rest of them we can come out in the evening once again to create what could be, what has every chance to be, what is the thing we most want in our time-travelling Christmas light gazebos.
The yards I pass are dark little patches of possibility. I particularly like one where a few strands of Christmas lights along the garage make the back a festive private cafe in Venice with no surly waiter wanting to close up. It keeps open a little promise of something else, as the full light of day fixes all possibilities on the one that is really the way it is until like Puck and the rest of them we can come out in the evening once again to create what could be, what has every chance to be, what is the thing we most want in our time-travelling Christmas light gazebos.
