Every day when I open my eyes now
It feels like a Saturday
Taking down from the shelf
All the parts of myself
That I packed away
If it’s love put the joy in my heart
Is it God by another name
Who’s to say how it goes
All I know is
I’m back in the world again…
It’s the only way to be
Tag: David Gray
We’re going to rise from these ashes like a bird of flame
…In the wings of time
Dry your eyes
We gotta go where we can shine
Dry your eyes
We gotta go where we can shine
Don’t be hiding in sorrow
Or clinging to the past
With your beauty so precious
And the season so fast…
When I held you near
You gotta rise from these ashes
Like a bird of flame
Step out of the shadow
We’ve gotta go where we can shine
Or clinging to the past
With your beauty so precious
And the season so fast…
When I held you near
You gotta rise from these ashes
Like a bird of flame
Step out of the shadow
We’ve gotta go where we can shine
For all that we struggle
For all we pretend
It don’t come down to nothing
Except love in the end…
Remember your soul is the one thing
You can’t compromise
Take my hand
We’re gonna go where we can shine…
For all we pretend
It don’t come down to nothing
Except love in the end…
Remember your soul is the one thing
You can’t compromise
Take my hand
We’re gonna go where we can shine…
— David Gray, from “Shine” (March 2007)
Walking. With Airborne Droplets.
2:30 am. I flick open Sleep app. 4 h 25 m. Hmmmm. Dale-like. How does she do it? Lori’s magnesium? Something. Something.
Morning papers. COVID-19. Masks. No masks. Airborne Droplets. Transmission. Virus is a hoax? Monty Python and the Holy Grail: “Bring out your dead!”
4:50 am. I pack my sling…phone, camera, earbuds, water…and I’m out the door. This unknown life force pulls me forward.
57° F. Special Alert: Dense Fog. Exactly how my head feels. Dense fog.
I walk.
Dark.
Walking under street lamps to Cove Island Park.
Infinitesimal droplets fall on my face. Airborne droplets.
I roll up my sleeves, first right, and then left. Droplets land on the inside of my forearms, and they tingle.
“Hey you, Agnostic!”
“You talking to me?”
“See anyone else?”
“Can you feel that?“
“I’m feeling Something. Something.”
Droplets stop. Infinitesimal, ephemeral, and gone.
Gull cries overhead.
They trigger David Gray’s tune “Gulls.” I search and play it on a loop:
This land belongs to the gulls
And the gulls to their cry
And their cry to the wind
And the wind belongs to no one…
Toward the sea that god sewn
Toward the sea that god sewn
And I walk, looking out over Long Island Sound, fog beginning to lift.
Feelin’ something…
Notes: Photo mine. Weed Avenue, Stamford, CT. This morning.
Gulls
Walking: Just to be, and soak it in, rather than conquer it and tick a box
FOLLOWING I don’t follow anything or anybody online; neither am I subscribed to any online magazines. I think I’m just too old and set in my ways for Twitter, etc. I still care about manners, spelling and punctuation, for Christ’s sake. Watching my kids and their intense relationship with the online world, I can see that it’s just a totally different mind-set; a different way of being even.
WALKING. These days my favorite pastime is to just go for a walk and if it’s out in the wilds, then all the better. Recent trips have included the Isle of Skye, the North Cornish coast and the Lake District, all of which were spectacular. It’s about taking your time to traverse rather than just climb a mountain and come back down again. Sometimes you climb up a mountain and find a tiny little lake, a weird little ecosystem with its dragonflies buzzing around. You just spend some time in this strange, magical spot. Just to be, and soak it in, rather than conquer it and tick a box. That’s my approach.
~ David Gray, from “Download by Kate Murphy” (New York Times Nov 26, 2016)
Notes:
- Photo: Digitaltrends
- If you’ve never heard of David Gray (what planet have you been residing on), check out his classic hit: Babylon