Walking. With my Religion.

Posted on by Live & Learn

4:00 a.m. I check the weather app: 18° F, wind speed 15 mph from the North, wind gusts up to 28 mph. Temperature feels like – 1° F. Winds from The Great White North, a reminder of Home. Add the presence of high tide, cloud cover of < 5% and there would be less-than-zero reason to be going out this morning, except one of the three requirements of a great morning trifecta being present, No Humans. Wally snuggles close, belly so warm, he snores. I tip toe out of the room, wood floors cold, body and bones resist, this Earth won’t stop spinning if I take the day off.

Last Night. Rachel asks if we would drive into the city to pick her up. Luggage, Sully, Christmas gifts, just way too much to haul solo on Metro North. The response was swift: Absolutely Not. Google Maps estimates ~90 minutes in both directions, if all goes well. Holiday traffic snarling. Tolls subject to surge pricing add to the misery. Now, why would anyone subject themselves to this? Well…It’s 8 p.m., and here I am, in the car, driving into Manhattan. Madness. 30 minutes to travel 30 miles. 60 minutes to navigate the last 10 minutes into Gotham. Think Mad Max in Thunderdome. Eastside highway traffic moving 55-70 mph, along NARROW, I mean a NARROW three lanes on something closer to a gravel country road than highway. Reach out your window and touch the yellow cab next to you. Reach out the passenger side, you’d be skimming the restraining wall of the East River. It’s less than one hour from bedtime, and here I am, bleary-eyed, hands clenching the steering wheel — the body knows, stomach cramps signaling high anxiety. I shift in my seat conscious of one errant move right or left and there is a pile up of massive proportions — followed by a 2 hour delay with cops, and accident reports. But, there’s something to prove here. Man-Child from small town Western Canada still has it — can make it on these tough streets of NYC. Cab driver behind me has his hand on the horn urging me to speed up, I’m going 60 mph. He passes giving me the bird, must be the Connecticut plates. I reciprocate with genuine kindness, turning on my high beams and tailgating him for the next mile or two, high beams flickering in his rear view mirror. Don’t mess with Country. He turns off at Exit 15. Still got it. Man-child.

4:30 a.m. I settle into my office chair. No longer reading the papers, nothing uplifting there. No longer following politics. I check the box scores. Check blog posts. Read another chapter or two, and then close my eyes reflecting on the drive into Manhattan, operating on < 5 hours sleep. “Yes, Lord, I am thankful today again for every reminder of how I have outlived my worst imagination. I will walk slowly through the garden of all that could have killed me but didn’t.” — Hanif Abdurraqib

5:50 a.m. I trudge out the door. Trudge, with underwear + long thermal underwear + sweatpants + snow pants + wool socks + long sleeved undershirt + hoodie + hooded winter jacket + North Face hooded Jacket + Tuke + woolen gloves + rubber boots. Chinook blowing 50 mph couldn’t push this Big Unit over. I step out the door — damn! Still bloody cold. One could die out here. Missing the breeze on South Beach.

6:00 a.m. I arrive at the Park. It’s been 1,692 consecutive (almost) days on my Cove Island Park walk. Like in a Row. And a whopping ~85 days since my last walking post. I’ve been reminded by my ‘friends’ that I’ve near given up on this blog thing. I’ll decide when I’ve given up, and it ain’t just yet (yet it’s been noted that the jabs are not far from the Truth.)

I walk. It’s cold. The app is wrong again, there is cloud cover and it’s conveniently situated in proximity of the sun rise. Park (near) empty.

I walk to the break wall, and then along the break wall, directly into the wind. The same exact spot two Saturday’s ago, where some force, a force of Some Thing, (like I believe in that sort of thing, Not) turns my head — like it’s tied to a rope, a shooting star, or meteor or Some Thing — and it just hangs there. Skin tingles.

The memory persists…

Have you ever been in the air so long that your feet begin to fall in love with the new familiar, walking along some invisible surface that is surely there, that must be, as there is no other way to describe what miracle keeps you afloat? How long have you been suspended in a place that loves you with the same ferocity and freedom as the ground might… as a heaven that lets you walk in drowning in gold might? — Hanif Abdurraqib

I walk…

I rush to the cliff to catch the sunrise…the new familiar…walking along some invisible surface that is surely there…that must be, as there is no other way to describe what miracle keeps me afloat? How long have you been suspended in a place that loves you with the same ferocity and freedom as the ground might…

and there it comes. Another beautiful sunrise, none of which would have been seen in my mind’s eye had I been tucked under the covers in bed this morning.

And then it becomes so much clearer, this Sunday morning, the site of which I have been returning each morning for 4.5+ years, that The Cove has become my religion.

With enough repetition, anything can become a religion. It doesn’t matter if it works or not, it simply matters if a person returns. — Hanif Abdurraqib.

My Religion.

More photos from this morning’s walk here and the time lapse of the sunrise here.

38 thoughts on “Walking. With my Religion.”

  1. Yes, Dave–We have missed the Walking Blog Posts (a general consensus from your groupie fan base)! Nevertheless, this journey is an evolution, where we have seen how The Religion takes different roads along the way, seeking, seeking, seeking…including photos, dogs, book recommendations (Seven Eves was amazing), time lapse photography, fellow walkers, etc., yet all comes back to this walk. Whichever road you take, we are happily along for the ride–We all experience personal growth through you! I have been saying since this I met you in 2000–Thank you for all you do for yourself, your Family, others and your Global Audience! (Steve G.)

    1. Dear Dave,

      This is the most beautiful thing I have read in recent memory. I guess that’s the highest compliment that I know how to express. Thank you for this post… from the bottom of my heart.

      You know… it occurs to me that I believe I have suggested that you should write a book. Can’t remember for sure, but if I didn’t say it, then I should have. And I have no doubt that many other people have said it as well.

      It just occurred to me that you HAVE ALREADY WRITTEN A BOOK! THIS BLOG IS YOUR BOOK! You could pick out your favorite posts, gather them together, come up with a title that comes from deep inside you, and hand it to a publisher unedited. DONE!

      (I think it would be a best seller! 😊)

      Peace,
      -Paul

  2. Aawww ….. not a puppy but an authentic beautiful DK shining his light.
    Thank you for sharing what nourishes, drives and inspires you so. It touches my soul… and inspires me.

  11. It’s wonderful to read and see the wedding of your photos with your words for at least 1400 times (not in a row). It’s an awesome journey that you share with us – and you can be sure it’s always appreciated…

  13. You’ve reminded me here (often!) of a friend saying the Lord has many tabernacles on this earth. Sometimes nature and always a water body is our be-with holiness. (And, tbh, when I read your tagline “I can’t sleep..,” I think to myself, “I’m both sorry AND glad about that!” 😔 😊) Happy holidays to you and yours, DK, and to your read-ers.

  14. I missed this. Big time. I’m so late to the game that I won’t add anything minus…. Whatever this religion is… I’ve converted. Just as long as you aren’t the God in charge…..

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