Spectres
Date: Feb 21 Wed
Mileage: 17 (Bleriot)
February mileage: 156
Year to date: 431
What a great morning commute! If I were more linguistically adept I could better capture the moment, but alas. If rode the Bleriot for the 2nd day, which was my third good decision of the day, this time attaching the Serfas blinkie light which became my fourth (yesterday I didn't have a front light- not the smartest). The first decision wasn't really a decision but a function of the physiological being, in that I awoke by my own body clock at 5.00 en punto. I'm not that enamored of such an early hour, but it allowed me to take the a.m. at a more relaxed pace. The 2nd decision was to fit my 10 minute meditation in. I would prefer 20min, but won't cling. (lengua-->mejilla). Having used my time so well so early, I found exotic conditions to travel in this a.m. Heavy fog had descended, filling the air with the moist, mossy feel that fog imparts. The moisture was bending the light to create a ghoulish spectral gauze which encased me, mummified me in mist and dew. I dropped into the park, only following street lights and perceptions. Once below, the ghosts appeared out of the soup. One, two, a group of three, all moving a snail's pace but revealing themselves limb by limb. Form, shape, movement, forward momentum and bundled captive energy. I barely discerned appendage, being wrapped in night black shadow, but the voices uttered pleasantries from unseen lips. "'Morning". "'Morning". "Good Morning". The road was ours. Their purpose, their own.
Having left the ghost at roadside hence, the climb began anew. Where did I find myself? The morning golf course hill, of course! To my left brown, muddy, damp hills rolled over like backs of grey green turtles, trees becoming moss and forest detritus, the fog a morning dew left from humid summer air. Today, though, provided the thick wetness of an imagined Pacific coast with its sea foam and Redwood, no summer in sight. In my ears Radiohead provided me a "Lucky" moment, to be literally gliding up that hill at that point in that soup. Mindfulness teaches to be in the moment, and no better a moment could it have been.
Mileage: 17 (Bleriot)
February mileage: 156
Year to date: 431
What a great morning commute! If I were more linguistically adept I could better capture the moment, but alas. If rode the Bleriot for the 2nd day, which was my third good decision of the day, this time attaching the Serfas blinkie light which became my fourth (yesterday I didn't have a front light- not the smartest). The first decision wasn't really a decision but a function of the physiological being, in that I awoke by my own body clock at 5.00 en punto. I'm not that enamored of such an early hour, but it allowed me to take the a.m. at a more relaxed pace. The 2nd decision was to fit my 10 minute meditation in. I would prefer 20min, but won't cling. (lengua-->mejilla). Having used my time so well so early, I found exotic conditions to travel in this a.m. Heavy fog had descended, filling the air with the moist, mossy feel that fog imparts. The moisture was bending the light to create a ghoulish spectral gauze which encased me, mummified me in mist and dew. I dropped into the park, only following street lights and perceptions. Once below, the ghosts appeared out of the soup. One, two, a group of three, all moving a snail's pace but revealing themselves limb by limb. Form, shape, movement, forward momentum and bundled captive energy. I barely discerned appendage, being wrapped in night black shadow, but the voices uttered pleasantries from unseen lips. "'Morning". "'Morning". "Good Morning". The road was ours. Their purpose, their own.
Having left the ghost at roadside hence, the climb began anew. Where did I find myself? The morning golf course hill, of course! To my left brown, muddy, damp hills rolled over like backs of grey green turtles, trees becoming moss and forest detritus, the fog a morning dew left from humid summer air. Today, though, provided the thick wetness of an imagined Pacific coast with its sea foam and Redwood, no summer in sight. In my ears Radiohead provided me a "Lucky" moment, to be literally gliding up that hill at that point in that soup. Mindfulness teaches to be in the moment, and no better a moment could it have been.
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