To walk with children is to slow down and see differently instead of the movie that plays in my head - you know, the thinking, projecting, dreaming, remembering, planning, spinning. Children are awake to the present moment, curious about things I no longer attend to or things I think I already know about....
There are cozy havens everywhere I walk... I imagine what it feels like to sit there, and think about how the changes around us compel us to make these new refuges.
After that first sighting, orange started popping out at me. I could see it from a block away, waving me down, "Look at me! Look at me!" But it's funny how once you start looking for something, you start seeing it all the time.
I spent an afternoon purposefully looking down, taking in the things I take for granted in my neighborhood as I reel repeatedly, round and round. I suddenly noticed art on the ground, lines and patterns, color and texture, life at a different level. It's something new anyway, a novelty in my shrinking world.
Basalt cliffs rose up straight up before us, and I imagined the floods advancing and receding repeatedly at the end of the Ice Age, the entire area being underwater, wiping out whatever was here before.