Walking. I’m lost. I’m lost. I’m lost.

Posted on by Live & Learn

It’s 6:15 a.m, 61° F with light rain, on a dreary Friday morning.

61° F (!) in August, after several weeks of blistering heat, imagine that. I lift my face to the sky, and let the cool morning breeze and light rain work themselves into my bones.

I cracked open a new book last night, Linn Ullmann’s “Girl, 1983.” Hypnotic scenes drift in and out as I walk.

But sometimes there’s a blessed respite – like a sudden breath of cool wind from an open window…I shook the duvets and smoothed the sheets, tidied the bedside table, opened the window wide and flung the curtains apart. I wanted air and light to stream in to where I lay in the white linen – and sounds that told of a city that was awake. (Linn Ullmann)

It’s been 1,914 consecutive (almost) days on this morning walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.

And even though I’ve been walking in this same park, on the same track for 1,914 consecutive days (like 5.25 years now), I’ve stepped foot in the Cove Island Park Wildlife Sanctuary, maybe 10x. This small refuge is less than 1000 feet from where I park my car at the entrance of Cove Island Park.

I pause for a split second before entering the sanctuary: My God Man, change is so hard for you, push yourself in, take the next step, you might like it.

I step in. And I walk. Slowly.

I don’t know where I am or where I’m going…I walk down a street. And back up again. I’m lost. Or rather: being lost suggests you have an idea of where you were and where you are going, and that somewhere you took a wrong turn. I don’t know where I am or where I’m going. (Linn Ullmann)

I arrive at the final turn of the Sanctuary and I come across an Egret. I’ve only seen egrets on or near the water, so this tall Boy, this Dandy, has ventured way out from his natural habitat.

I raise my camera slowly not to spook him. He lifts his head up to sniff the air, turns his cheek to give me his best side, and I snap the shot.

He’s looks at me: “You good?” as if sensing my anxiety, and deflecting his own.

I look at back at him and tell him: “I am now.“

Notes:

  • Photos from this morning’s walk here.
  • Book Review: “Girl, 1983” by Linn Ullmann: “Haunted by the Ghost of Her 16-Year-Old Self, A Writer Returns to 1983.” NY Times Selection of 6 New Books We Love this Week.

36 thoughts on “Walking. I’m lost. I’m lost. I’m lost.”

  1. This.
    All of it, David.
    I love when you write this stuff and share (yet another) wonderful snippet(s) of what you are reading. Shall I add it to my pile?

      1. Lemme know… I did read part of the review you linked to and I am somwhat intrigued but shall await your two cents’ worth 🙂

          3. I appreciate the warning. I guess like the article said, there were great phrases but not much in the grand scheme of things

  2. lovely photo. i love egrets. they visit often here in the pond beyond. and doesn’t the cool-down feel like heaven? i jumped up and opened all the windows. bring it!!! glad you’re good … i am too!

  9. I’m with Dale…love it when you write this way. Reminds me of the wonderful posts you used to do when taking the train into the city and observing the ebb and flow of humanity around you. You have such a keen eye, pal, and such a delicious way of conjuring an image in the mind’s eye. Keep walking, my man, keep walking!

  10. we nearly always see egrets of all ages when we go for our nordic walking. We have some ponds in the woods where they have built their nests and had their babies. Always uplifting and joy spreading!
    Great quotes.
    We have now for at least two weeks already (if not longer) quite awful weather with temps closer to autumn (I say November weather), much, much rain, short bright moments, cold for this time of the year and I dearly miss my swimming outings. This weather is making me crazy!
    I don’t think you’d get ever lost on your walks (runs?)…. you have all the equipment, the long experience, a computer-brain – surely you don’t get lost?!

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