Sunday, May 17, 2009

The Long Way Home

I took my dog for a walk this afternoon and experienced the most beautiful things.  

An elderly man was walking behind us and soon passed us when Diego paused to survey and sniff out the grounds.  Then Diego bounded off back on his way, and shook himself exuberantly while sauntering off towards the man, and I felt for a moment that a little family had formed in this moment, on this journey, and I had to laugh joyously over how full that felt.  The spots of sunlight on the ground patterned Diego as he bounced along "after" this man, who was now oblivious to us, and for a few minutes, we were like a little trail of ducks.  

I was listening to music on my Iphone and forgot about the song "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay on the playlist to which I was listening.  "I used to rule the world..." go the lyrics and the beautiful violin and cello chords that begin the song, and it reminded me that there's so much to learn, and the first step of this is being aware that what you used to think was true was only an illusion.  

I felt that it was time to turn back on this journey and head home, and something said to me, "Take the long way."  My dog and I turned down a street we'd never walked down, and I saw it curve away at the end.  If it were a cul-de-sac, and we'd have to double back, I'd be, well, bored, but I would take it in stride.  But we walked on, and as we neared the curve, I saw that it turned out and the street continued through, and the dead-end was an illusion. 

I heard the opening chords to "Once In A Lifetime" by the Talking Heads and remembered the morning I returned to classes at UIC after missing several days, after my break-up with Dayne.  I remembered walking in the throes of a group of my classmates, all of us fresh off the train, and it was a crystal-cold day, and my heart was completely broken, but I was listening to this song, and I saw the sunlight scattered through the hair of my classmates and on their hats and heads, and there was a subtle pulse to the rhythm of our walk, and I knew then, that everything was going to be okay.  

We passed two men standing near a garage, talking.  One of them smiled at me and I smiled back.  He was Indian, and he smiled at me like we were familiar.

We passed a woman in a red jacket, standing close to the wall of her house, tending a small flowerbed in a sill raised underneath her window.   

We passed a lawn and I saw four mallards nestled in the grass; 3 drakes and a hen.  Diego didn't notice, and I was glad, because otherwise their peaceful Sunday rest would have vanished.  They looked so content, just looking out upon this lawn, at the world that lay before them.  

We passed the wall of a garage that was utterly radiated with light by the setting sun.  It was so bright and nearly blinding that the only distinction I could see were the dark parallel lines created by the siding.  I was looking at the sun, with horizontal lines drawn in black, against the wall of this garage.  It was brilliant and beautiful and it burned in my vision, and I wished I could have painted it. 

We passed a little boy, across the street, throwing a tennis ball against his garage.  I remembered doing the same to our neighbor's garage, in the alley behind our house.  The boy stopped when he saw Diego sniffing around the ground.  I smiled at him.  He watched us, the ball in hand, his little windbreaker open, his hands at his sides.

We walked on and I passed under the branches of a coniferous tree and felt the long strands tickle the top of my hairline.  

We passed another tree and I saw a scattering of baby pine cones forming.  I wondered how some formed in some places, and not in others, and thought that God must choose every single formation of these, and He must have a record of all of them, as well as His reasons for creating them in certain spots, and not in others.

We walked along the sidewalk and I realized that I was really walking vertically, only, my perspective afforded me the perception that I was walking along a level horizontal.  What an odd thing, I thought, to be in this head, and for everything to be relative to my perspective.  

We continued and I saw a silver-gold splash of light on the pavement; as we neared it I thought it must be freshly fallen water, and as we got closer, and were finally walking over it, I realized it was tar, carelessly scattered across a bit of pavement, and it was as black as night as I stepped through it's painting.  

We passed a bundle of sticks that had been gathered and bound with cord.  There was a formation of wood that looked like a rotted root, dug out of the ground.  It was gnarled and caked with dirt, and I leaned in for a closer look and saw a mountain range scattered in brown.  

I sang along to "This Must Be The Place" by the Talking Heads as we crossed the street to my house.  

Several times during this journey, I knew, that if I had taken another way, all this, I would have missed.  

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