Walking. To Eternity.

Posted on by Live & Learn

3:15 am.
I flip through the morning papers. Jesus, why do I subject myself to this?
Politics (sigh), Middle East, Ukraine, Senator on the take, Earth camped out on a hot tin roof.
Alexandra Fuller in Fi: “How quickly we’ve messed this all up: everything melting, flooding, on fire.”

1536 consecutive (almost) days on this daybreak morning walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.
And what a day it is.
While everything burns, I walk, here, on Fantasy Island.

Stars, stars and more stars painted on a cloudless sky.
6 mph breeze from the north. Leaves rustle overhead. Birds beginning to wake.
65° F.
This is mid-July people.

And, setting aside the weight gain which I will NOT let throw shade on a beautiful morning, not a single body part hurts. Not one.

There’s no doubt, absolutely ZERO chance (mostly because of my diet and conditioning discipline) that I will not live forever.

Great Blue Herons have returned, this despite the destruction of their natural habitat at the top of Weed Avenue where they used to hang out. To make room for…? F-k knows.

Egrets, ever so graceful, are abundant this season. Juveniles, frisky, with their spiky Mohawks, prance in low tide spearing whitebait, the school in their frenzy rippling the calm surface of the pond.

And Black-Crowned Night herons, elusive, camouflaged, and frozen in spot and in time, are also plentiful at Cove Island.

So…all is not lost.

I round the corner of the Cove, on my way back to the car. I come across a cut log, cut flat on both sides, used for a chair (?) or small camping table (?). (See it in the photo up top.)

I give it a light kick, it’s waterlogged, no movement.

I keep walking.
I stop.
And walk back to the log.
I roll the log on its side.

If I can give this log a little nudge, and it rolls down all the way into the water, I will live forever.

I take a deep breath, pause, and then take another, and then lean in and push.

Please. Please. Please. Please.

45 thoughts on “Walking. To Eternity.”

  3. Great shot! How do you continue to go without sleep, I would be bonkers. Sounds like you’ve been dipping in to the treats again. that’s stress and an habit. A habit you love. Take good care.

  5. I am laughing so hard…. So close to that water. I wish I saw you pick that log up (struggling and straining with the camera equipment in tow) and whispering “please”…. hahahaha…. only to see it drop to its side a mere foot and a half from the water…..

    Oh and what was that you said… spiky Mohawks? Yeah. I agree. They do look more like a mohawk than a crown. Good to see you’ve come around. Laughing…. OMG so much. Side hurts.

    It’s ok DK, I can take over THIS Blog when you go in 50 years. I might have to change the title though…. Sawsan can help me come up with some possibilities.

    “Dying” laughing…..

  7. Love the heron photo, and laughed at the log effort. Isn’t that always the way? When you want it to make it to the water…. But just think, if it had gone in and, being waterlogged, stayed there under the water, it would have been a hazard to navigation. As it is now, when the tide is right, a heron might be able to stand on it and have a great vantage point.

      1. I’m trying to find something nice to say.
        But I’ll second that, “How quickly we’ve messed this all up: everything melting, flooding, on fire.”

          2. I just wasn’t aware that you do calisthenics and log flipping in the wee hours. Can’t breathe again. So funny.

  9. Beautiful post. Live it.
    Wonder why you would want to live forever in ‘this’ world. I don’t want a long life. I try to live a happy life.

  11. I for one, believe in forever even if I know better. And I believe that the beauty of the cove represents grace in this totally f—ked up world. And that gives me hope. And if there is hope then maybe, just maybe….

  12. Those magnificent birds know how to live! Can you imagine any of them wanting to move your water-logged log…. (gives me the giggles). One of my favorite bird memories is discovering a black crowned night heron hiding maybe over a nest…the feathers bright dark blue and the white part so-o white. This was down at the Brig (Brigantine across the water from Atlantic City before the sun came very far up).

  13. I so love the photos…the first one is Stunning…I’m so glad that the physical world you share in the early morning(s) unleashes, a calming, gentle beauty…upon us & your imprint impacts, always 🙂

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