Morning thoughts (1)

Morning walks down Cathedral Drive had become routine; something I had to give myself a little push to keep doing, because the dogs needed a walk, and so did I. And because the touchstone, the turn-around point, was down that way. But my habit of touching it while saying a prayer was at risk of becoming an empty gesture, symptomatic of … what? An increasing old-age weariness settling in? the usual seasonal disorder? Mild depression, or more?

Something had to be done. This would never do: no way to end one’s life. Hadn’t I just messaged back a friend to offer a hopeful thought: not to despair, because “anything is always possible.”

I decided to refresh the morning walks by, in anticipation of that, taking my camera along to record an image of whatever thought-inspiring moment might appear. Then, post it here as the first of a daily series of ‘Morning thoughts.’

At the end of the long driveway I realized I had forgotten the camera. Just as well, I thought; after all, hadn’t we, my online friend and I, decided after just such a moment earlier this fall, that it was better not to ‘capture’ and thus diminish the wonder of it all.

And, of course, it happened again.

The sky above on this mid-November morning appeared to be well overcast. Heading north along Cathedral, the air was still. Young ash trees along the east side of the road stood bare and unmoving. A few small, red apples still clung on the branch of a wild apple tree. The dogs, with eager interest, savored a fresh scent, of deer, likely. In the low light of this cloudy morning, the moss on the touchstone had that luminous quality I have also noticed at dusk as the light is fading.

On the way back I plodded along, my eyes looking down on the gravel road. I Looked up, and then I saw it: just over the tree-line to the south-east, a narrow band of brighter sky; the rising sun not quite breaking through, but trying to.

I looked away for a moment, then back, to see the bright orb of the sun shining through; not entirely: its light was still somewhat filtered through thinner clouds. But there it was: brave sun on a cloudy day.

I thought for a moment of having forgotten my camera, of maybe getting back to the house soon enough to hurry back with the camera but realized the moment would not last. And so it was.

Still, it was enough to lift the spirit. Let the day begin.

10 thoughts on “Morning thoughts (1)

  1. Dear Phil,
    Thankyou for sharing this beautiful moment. I hope that you have a lovely day and I will look forward to seeing the photos when you do remember your camera.
    I thought of you this week as I enjoyed some of your wonderful garlic.
    Warmest Regards
    Kathy Maczko

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  2. Good morning Phil!

    Thank you for this. Greetings from Edmonton

    Dr. Reinekke Lengelle Associate Professor Interdisciplinary Studies Athabasca University, Canada

    Senior Researcher & Research group member Substainable Talent Development The Hague University, The Netherlands

    Special Issue Editor, Creative Methods British Journal of Guidance and Counselling

    Publications: http://writingtheself.ca/home/publications/

    Cell phone: 1-780-239-0650 skype: reinekke11

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

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  3. Thank you Phil. As I walked along your path virtually with you I enjoyed experiencing it vicariously. It was a beautiful walk. The views, the fall aromas that crept in from my own experiences, the rising sun gifting us with another day. How words can become an experience! I enjoy your descriptions.

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  4. Such a beautiful reflective essay. I hope we all remember to look up, open our eyes to see moments of beauty. Thinking of you as winter sets in.

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