Walking. And licking the wounds.

~ Live & Learn

697 days, almost consecutive. Like in a row. This daybreak walk at Cove Island Park.

38° F, feels like 30° F, flashes Dark Sky app. Sorry, but that’s crap. Winds gusting up to 35 mph.

Just look at those clouds overhead in the photo. Even they’re huddled together trying to stay warm.

I’m standing in the exact same spot as my last post. That pure and clean moment. That soul lifting moment, lifting me, elevating me up and over my pesky, 1st world problems.

And here we are, a week later, and I’m feeling nothing. Nothing spiritual. Nothing soul lifting.

Jill Horton’s words are pumping into my earbuds on Audible from her title “We are All Perfectly Fine.” No, we’re not perfectly fine Jill. “What’s that like? It’s like bullshit…it’s like violence to my soul.”

So the picture must be crystalizing for you this morning. We’re cold, we’re in a pissy mood, and not really sure why. Why not turn this bus around, suspend this walk, go back home, roll under the covers and sleep it off? Whatever the hell ‘this’ is. But I know that I excel at wallowing in it.

I keep walking.

I pull the hoody (‘hoody’ Dale, not ‘hoodie’, or some other French Canadian separatist derivation) over my head to cut some of this wind. And I pick up the pace to warm these bones.

I walk the breakwall, taking care to avoid the slime, to avoid a headlong tumble, to add to the morning woes.

I hear a scurrying in the stones.

I hit pause on Audible, yank my ear buds out and stop.

There she is. One, jet black, wet fur shimmering in the twilight.

Then, more scurrying. A larger male Otter. Then he’s followed by two youngsters. The little guys are playing tug-o-war on both ends of a hapless fish, oversized for the two of them.

Mom circles back, wary, having seen the giant, threatening intruder.

They freeze. We’re in a stare down.

I slide my hand down, down the camera strap, down to remove the lens cap, sliding it gently into my pocket. My right hand slides to the camera grip, which rattles them.

They give me one last look, and bolt. Dad out front, babies in the center, and Mom flanking. Four heads bobbing in the chop.

I missed the shot. Yep.

But for a single moment, I stopped.

Stopped?

Stopped licking the wounds.

Horton: “a dog’s tendency to lick wounds repeatedly…again, and again, until their flesh is stripped down to the bone by all that licking, and still the dog won’t stop.”

DK Photo @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 5:54 a.m. April 2, 2022. More photos from this morning here.

50 thoughts on “Walking. And licking the wounds.”

  3. I continue to be amazed by how different I show up each morning while doing the exact same activity, in my case, qigong. Your post brings to mind how a daily activity serves as a barometer read of the me that shows up…

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  7. You know when a baby is crying with such intensity that you can’t think of what you can do to make it stop? And then you make a new noise – any new noise – and there’s a pause…something new has entered the equation and it needs to be considered and given its due. And as an adult, there is still no better way to stop the case of the cranks, than to be offered a pause. And a fantastic one it was…

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  8. I am feeling your pissy mood, Sir. To attack me unjustly so. Of course, I do spell it ‘hoodie’ but hey… just for you, I went onto the Google and found this:
    People also ask
    Is it spelled hoodie or hoody?
    The spelling first of all, ‘hoody’, or ‘hoodie’, and more often with the ‘ie’ than not. And that’s because it’s the usual familiarity marker that you get on lots of words in English, words like, sweetie, auntie, goalie (goal keeper), daddie and mummie, and of course in names too, Susie (Susan).
    (Though I disagree with the Daddy and Mommy, thing…

    I know how frustrating it is to “miss the shot” but sometimes, maybe it’s a good thing to just be in the moment…

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  9. Dang, lost my post….So with you every moment, and ready to say, yeah go home, but then so glad you didn’t, and were given the gift of meeting with the otter family. I doubt that there’s anyone who doesn’t love otters! Also love Mimi’s analogy of the cranky baby!

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  12. ‘A dog’s tendency to lick wounds repeatedly.’ So true. And yet, we can be lifted out of it in a ‘moment’ when we step back and shift our focus onto a bigger perspective. Great post DK. 👏

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  15. a great post, although I haven’t read any others lately…. BUT over here in my head and the countries I’ve lived it’s a Hoodie and not a Hoody….. just so that you know! I’m all with Dale on that one.
    It’s of no importance whether you’ve taken pics of the otters – because your eyes took them and they’ll be burnt into your heart which is a much better conservator (is this a word`?) than any card of your camera or phone…. already the Little Prince said: You can only see well with your heart (sorry I had to add this…)
    What a great post this was – and now I’m off to bed – maybe more another day soon. When I’ve finished licking my oozing wounds – although I’d never go as far as licking down to my bones 😉

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  16. Beautiful photo of light emerging and the clouds, looks like they are gliding in to float on the water…///sorry you had an Eeyore type of morning…hope it resolved quickly.

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  17. Dave, you missed typed – made me wonder if your eyes still hurt? I know that you have a medicated eye ointment (expensive) you used nightly. This aging certainly comes with its physical and health issues, for all of us…thankfully for me daily RX’s and stretching, helps! Not able to do my walks anymore, darn…

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  18. Glad. You know i love taking photos. But sometimes I just have to savor the moment instead.

    When I started reading your post, I had just read some thing from another blog and I thought to share it with you.

    “Think of a problem that has plagued you for a long time – your weight, a loved one’s bad habits, fear of terrorism, whatever. No doubt you’ve tried valiantly to control this issue, but are your efforts working? The answer has to be no; otherwise you would have solved the problem long ago. What if your real trouble isn’t the issue you brood about so compulsively, but the brooding itself?” ~ Martha Beck

    Have a peaceful weekend, David.

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