I can't sleep…
What happens every day is what’s surprising. The treasure’s never where I look to find it but where I simply look — the sky, the wind, sunrise, a silver arc, the moment’s chance.
— Ursula K. Le Guin, from “The Everyday (At Kishamish)” in “Finding My Elegy: New and Selected Poems”
Feather blowing in the wind. Twilight. 5:52 am. April 17, 2024. Cove Island Park. Stamford, CT.
More photos from this morning’s walk here.
Things don’t have purposes, as if the universe were a machine, where every part has a useful function. What’s the function of a galaxy? I don’t know if our life has a purpose and I don’t see that it matters. What does matter is that we’re a part. Like a thread in a cloth or a grass-blade in a field. It is and we are. What we do is like wind blowing on the grass.
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven
Notes: Quote – Thank you Beth @ Alive on all Channels. Photo: Scientific American
5:40 am.
2nd morning train: Metro North to Grand Central.
Dark Sky reports: Clear, 45° F and Rising.
Wardrobe check:
Black Belt.
Black Suit.
Black Socks.
Black Tie.
Black Shoes.
Black TopCoat.
Black Underwear.
BLAAACCCCKKKKK.
Train rolls into Grand Central 2 minutes late, red ants swarm, clamoring and jostling to get to the exits.
The pace accelerates, foot traffic is flowing. I bear down on a doodler staring down at her smartphone, and need to slow, way down.
There’s heavy foot traffic on all sides, I veer right to pass, glare at her, but it misses wide as Ms. Oblivious’ is clueless as to the traffic backup.
As I straighten up, I ram into a Suit, who teeters, wobbles and regains his footing.
“Hey.”
Continue reading “Walking Cross-Town. With Lightning Strikes.”