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
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
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…

— 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

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
The wind belongs to no-one…

~ David Gray, from Gulls.

Video recorded live on December 7, 2016 in Antwerp, Belgium.


Walking: Just to be, and soak it in, rather than conquer it and tick a box

david-gray

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

Running. With Blood.

aerial-highway-solitary

Captain’s Log.
Last run: March 13, 2016.  Jesus. 4 months.
I step on the scale. Hope springs eternal.
Flash. Flash. Flash. Bam: 204.6. Exactly the same weight. Well, that’s something.

I grip the Body Glide cylinder and rub it on the nipples.
There’ll be no breast pads for this Hombre after today’s run.
I pause before setting down the magic wax, and look down at my groins.  Are they touching? Can’t be. Must be the way I’m standing. I spread my legs. That’s better, pleased at the separation. Another year or so and you’ll be able to drive a bus between my legs – they’ll be spread that wide.

I’m out the door.
4:57 a.m.
66° F.  Cooler today.
Weather App calls for the sun to rise at 5:30 am.
My Goal: Exceed the 5.38 mile distance in March or run to the Sunrise, whichever comes first.

It’s like riding a bike. You don’t forget how to run. Right. A nerve in the upper left shoulder blade pinches. And this slides down to the lower right back achieving beautiful pain symmetry. Sedentary Suit on the move.  Jesus.

[Read more…]

Walking Cross Town. In Slow Motion.

blue-morpho-butterfly

Thursday morning.
First train arrives at Grand Central at 5:55 am.
I twist ear buds in.
Turn volume up.
And set the playlist.
Noise cancelling headphones block the outside.
David Gray fills the inside.
Magic.

Commuters stage left, and right, and front, and back.
A teeming shoal of barracuda jockeying for position for the exits.

While I was watching you did a slow dance.

We edge forward through the tunnel.
Down the stairs.
And a hard left up the corridor for the Madison exit.

Life in slow motion somehow it don’t feel real.

Up escalator.
I lean into left lane. Speed lane.
She’s up and in front.
A Barracuda presses from behind, and three behind him. [Read more…]

Riding Metro-North. Off-Peak.

blur-portrait

My early morning routine, My zone, My sweet spot, is detonated.
I’m on the mid-afternoon train to Manhattan.
Everything is out of order. Way out of order.

It’s a sparsely occupied train.
A few Suits. Students. Tourists chattering. Children buzzing.
All rules of order violated. Quiet Car? What’s that?

The landscape is foreign as it flashes by the window.
The whites of winter turn to the darks of buildings, and back. Strobe lights. Disco. Discombobulating.
Pulse quickens. Wrong train? No. Daylight. Mr. Hyde makes his appearance in Light, flings his robe back, and works to shake off his lethargy.

Eyes are heavy from scanning emails. Words are merging together.  Regurgitation, without nourishment. Chewing, remembering nothing, looping back to re-read. Sigh.

I give up. [Read more…]

Friday night I’m going nowhere


Friday night I’m going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over tv stations
Situations running through my head…


Friday night I’m going nowhere


Friday night I’m going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over TV stations
Situations running through my head…
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now


Gulls


David Gray. Needs no introduction. Play anything Man. Play anything.


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