Is that what we all do? Just keep moving, running not towards something because ultimately, that is always death, but from something, which could also be defined as death, I suppose.
This sounds morbid but it's also interesting. And perhaps why we're supposed to meditate, be mindful. Be here now. Otherwise it's all just running from and to.
Well, today, on this part of the circular journey I moved. And now the sun is getting low in the sky and the black beans and rice are cooked. The chicken and dumplings are home with Jessie. The husband is working in the garage. My body is tired and tonight I will sleep well again. And even in this day of movement, I have stopped to notice the swelling of the fig branches, the leafing of the mulberry, the little piece of grassy woodland which I had not noticed before on my walk, filled with violets. And no trash at all. One pristine place of pure sweet beauty.
I will meditate on that.