Twelve feet, 8 running, all moving down the sand trail. Almost too cool breezes balanced by sunshine strong enough to bite when offered bare skin. Don’t know the measure in miles, but Fitbit says 9,580 steps. Certainly the dogs got more in than that with their circling diversions. They had ghosts in the woods to chase, always assuming a hero’s return. Both full of empty bluster and dog braggadocio. The road of soft sand, rutted and challenging for me to walk in, a breeze for Carla and the dogs.
Finally, The stream.
Rufus and Chicca now wading, wagging, splashing, circling,
lapping in dog ecstasy, Carla leaning on her elbows over the side of the one-man
bridge someone threw together with spare lumber two years ago. Watching the
water pass between her outstretched feet, moss seaweed, waving and
flapping under the surface of the water like tandem kites. Slowly looking up at
the dogs bathing between us, watching me pause and squat for a look at this
island of green showing off, growing out of a stump just above the water,
demanding attention.
We were all in the zone, devoid of labeling, deciding,
judging, and thinking, enjoying the presence of the cool water, hot sun, a
light breeze that smelled of new life being conceived, and for me, this little
island that epitomized the moment.
Joseph Campbell challenges us to find our bliss.
Moments like these show me the way.
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