When I finished reading through Breast Stroke again last night, I realized it is complete.
Maybe that is all I need to say. Complete!
Perhaps, a little more, as a brand-new stream offers momentum to trickle forth. I remember now when I was young I wanted to know how a stream begins. How does it start? A friend's mother packed some sandwiches for my friend and me, and we climbed and climbed, and ate ham and cheese sandwiches on a rock in the middle of the stream, and when we reached the top of the mountain, we discovered the stream started out beneath a little rock, just popped out there, like a brand new sprout. We stood on top of the mountain, amazed at how one begins and spreads.
Jane and I both saw the reflection of the sun this morning and felt it was rich and golden in a way we had never before seen. It comes up behind us, for both of us, when we look out and up from our computers, so we only see the change, and it was magnificent this morning. It is always different, but that forward footprint of the sun was even more spectacular today than ever before, and maybe that is part of the being done.
A book may finish, and the people writing it have to finish too, have to find their way to completion.
It becomes a task, a companion. What are you doing? Working on a book. Of course, that can be broadly interpreted to mean you are working on the mood to work on the book, so you may have to visit the beach or see if the salmon are present or work in the yard, but you are working on a book.
Maybe I needed in some way to be working on a book, and then, this week, I didn't want to be working on a book. I wanted a book to be done, and so it is.
It is done. I have no words for the strength of that relief.
Sometimes I think I spend too much time online, and today, I receive two lovely gifts from friends I have not personally met, as in my hands physically touched theirs, but I have met through this relatively new world. I do know them and care about them and worry about them and rejoice with them. One spent a great deal of time last night and this morning with a problem I mentioned, and one gives me the best of my icons. I'm not sure I can let the little bird go yet, but this world of flowers is his too. Enjoy!
I just walked down to the junction for provisions. I put a $20.00 bill in my pocket and a credit card. I usually take a five or ten, but it always seems to cost more than I expect as I forget I am walking, and I buy too much, and I don't like to use a credit card for a small amount.
I get there and realize I have lost the twenty. I feel pretty upset about it, and try and visualize when I must have put my hand in my pocket and then flopped it carelessly back out. I buy what I need with the credit card, glad that I have it, and then, walk carefully back, retracing my route. I know the odds are against my finding it, but who knows? Maybe it is caught somewhere. If it isn't where it can be found, it is gone. What is it to know you were once worthy of exchange, and now, you are a soft discard, melting back into the elements? I suppose we'll all find out.
What I notice is that I usually walk looking up at the sky and the tops of the trees. Now, I am carrying a heavy load, and I am looking down and all around, like a mine sweeper trying to find the cash. The good news is that I am focused, and I am aware of how many colors of green there are this time of year, and browns, and daffodils, and I see that it is hard to walk, looking so hard, trying to find something. How much better it was on Sunday when the blossoms blew into my uplifted face. Oh, not better, necessarily, but more comfortable for my neck and shoulder.
I don't find the money. It is gone, or preferably found, and it was worth the lesson in attention, focus, the uselessness of trying, and letting go.
I'm glad it wasn't my only twenty. The loss won't affect my quality of life, and yet, it did pull me along a different path, one spread with four magnolia petals and a more astute attention to what I pass.
I am reading a wonderful book called Totem Salmon, Life Lessons from Another Species. It is by Freeman House.
It is about the damage that has been done to the salmon and the attempts to help them now. It is staggering to read of the mismanagement and mistreatment, and to realize that the salmon, this beautiful creature, may soon be gone.
One problem is ignorance like this.
""How can salmon be endangered when you can buy them in cans in supermarkets?" asked Idaho Congressional Representative Helen Chenowith as recently as 1996."