Day 17 -- That Morning Light
Out to run early in the morning today, as usual. Also as usual, right before I swung my legs over the side of the bed in the first indication that I was actually going to get upright, I experienced a short but intense wave of fear--fear that my reluctance to go run would prove to be more than chimerical. The morning light, the light that was only imagined at that point, got me out of bed and out on the road.
As I heeled-and-toed it under the Acton Street lights, I thought about this blog and what kind of photo op I might have on my run to capture some place or thing that would goad me into writing. I thought about my original purpose in doing this 21-day blogathon. It was inspired by Colleen, the Communicatrix, who just yesterday finished what she called her 21-day salute. Her purpose was to make each day a small beginning. (Mission accomplished, I'd say, by the way.) I've been saying that my purpose is to practice being here now (with apologies to Ram Dass). More precisely, however, my intent has been to practice opening my heart every day and being grateful for my place in the universe. As I said on Day 1, I was tired of being "anxious, crabby, depressed, and sad."
I believe writing every day has helped me steer in a more positive direction, and I feel good about that. Whether I've been able to keep my heart open is really an unanswered question, but I have no doubt that I've tried, tried by looking around me and chronicling what I find interesting every day as I move through this world.
This morning I found myself in two places of interest. The first was of interest not so much in itself but for the memory it evoked of a long-ago visit I made to SF MOMA to see an Edward Hopper exhibit.
I was invited by a friend who told me he'd always wanted to see some Hopper paintings. I was so shy and insecure at that time (I was probably 35) that I agreed with him enthusiastically--even though I had no idea who Edward Hopper was. When we got to the show, of course I realized I knew the work but just hadn't had the artist's name. It is evocative stuff--moody lighting, lonely scenes. So this morning, when I ran by Nation's I says to myself, Self, I says, just for a moment here, you can be Edward Hopper. After I got home and looked at this photo, it was, well, Self, maybe not.
The other place I found myself, and this was a bit later, as I was on my way to BART and from there to work, was at the head of the under-construction southern section of the Ohlone Greenway. These two blocks have been fenced off and torn up for months, so imagine my delight when I came upon this enticing ribbon of trail, looking like it's almost ready for christening.
Not long ago Z asked me, well, what do you want to do when you retire? My off-the-top-of-my-head answer was, to run, to take pictures, and to write. And just what do you think I've done this day? Talk about my heart opening up!
As I heeled-and-toed it under the Acton Street lights, I thought about this blog and what kind of photo op I might have on my run to capture some place or thing that would goad me into writing. I thought about my original purpose in doing this 21-day blogathon. It was inspired by Colleen, the Communicatrix, who just yesterday finished what she called her 21-day salute. Her purpose was to make each day a small beginning. (Mission accomplished, I'd say, by the way.) I've been saying that my purpose is to practice being here now (with apologies to Ram Dass). More precisely, however, my intent has been to practice opening my heart every day and being grateful for my place in the universe. As I said on Day 1, I was tired of being "anxious, crabby, depressed, and sad."
I believe writing every day has helped me steer in a more positive direction, and I feel good about that. Whether I've been able to keep my heart open is really an unanswered question, but I have no doubt that I've tried, tried by looking around me and chronicling what I find interesting every day as I move through this world.
This morning I found myself in two places of interest. The first was of interest not so much in itself but for the memory it evoked of a long-ago visit I made to SF MOMA to see an Edward Hopper exhibit.
I was invited by a friend who told me he'd always wanted to see some Hopper paintings. I was so shy and insecure at that time (I was probably 35) that I agreed with him enthusiastically--even though I had no idea who Edward Hopper was. When we got to the show, of course I realized I knew the work but just hadn't had the artist's name. It is evocative stuff--moody lighting, lonely scenes. So this morning, when I ran by Nation's I says to myself, Self, I says, just for a moment here, you can be Edward Hopper. After I got home and looked at this photo, it was, well, Self, maybe not.
The other place I found myself, and this was a bit later, as I was on my way to BART and from there to work, was at the head of the under-construction southern section of the Ohlone Greenway. These two blocks have been fenced off and torn up for months, so imagine my delight when I came upon this enticing ribbon of trail, looking like it's almost ready for christening.
Not long ago Z asked me, well, what do you want to do when you retire? My off-the-top-of-my-head answer was, to run, to take pictures, and to write. And just what do you think I've done this day? Talk about my heart opening up!
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