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Spring Walk

3/20/2012

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Spring pulled me out the front door this morning. Before I had eaten my oats or poured clear cool water into seven offering bowls, it pulled on my hooded top and my shoes, and ushered me out the front door. I realized, as I walked towards the glistening sea, that it's been six months since we moved to Portland. 

We arrived on Winter Street as autumn was shedding leaves. We had a few weeks of glorious open windows and the sounds of birds and I ventured out quite a lot in the mornings to explore my surroundings. We had moved to the edge of the West End--this extraordinary place, like another realm. Quiet winding streets, Victorian homes with hidden gardens, old benches, wild flowers, fairies, I'm sure. 

I had this window of time to celebrate our new home, and then winter set in. The days shortened, the cold air moved in--and the windows were closed. I withdrew with the sun. I became like the trees, turning inward, bringing my world into a small space, conserving my energy. But recently it's been feeling too tight. This sense of disconnection. 

But today, the sun is back on our side.

As I moved down Pine Street, with its huge old homes, wide street and daffodils pushing up through earth, I breathed in lungfuls of ocean air. I felt connected to my surroundings. Old ladies walked dogs. The occasional bike. The sound of an old car trying to start. By the time I reached the Western Promenade, I was faced with the outlook over South Portland. I could hear this morning commute roar, of cars moving fast to the office/lobster boat/wherever these people go in the mornings.

As I walked along the little path by the view, I remembered my secret walks in Hong Kong. Pathways through old backstreets that would take me to banyan courtyards, down hills and to secret bays. I communed with old Hong Kong, its stories. I spoke to its spirits. I would walk and think, and observe and the world would offer these insights. My sense of self would expand, as my mind curled around those forms, sounds and smells.

Today, I remembered the magic of those walks. I remembered that I am a soul not accustomed to winter. I have come from a land of street markets and sun. So I am making a pact, to turn towards the sun again. To wake up to my present life. To stop the mind from grasping at far-away dreams. To just wake up, walk, work and feel the sun on my face. And, as if hearing my thoughts, a friend posts a poem to Facebook:

"Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; 
And give us not to think so far away 
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here 
All simply in the springing of the year."

Robert Frost

Photo credit: Wiki Commons





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