Catching My Breath

I walked to meditation again this morning at 6:30 and this time I put my camera in my pocket.

I got some good pictures but this one was my favorite. At first I had no idea what this was. It was intended to be another picture of sunrise behind the trees but actually... did you guess it?... it is a picture of my breath! It was COLD this morning, under 20 degrees F.

No one showed up for meditation again this morning although the Church secretary checked for me yesterday. Here is a picture of the Faith Center in the pre-dawn darkness.

There is an art gallery in West Pearl Street that has the most interesting art exhibitions in their front window. I LOVE this one which is a sculpture (about 12 inches long and tall) of a book seller with his cart full of books. The horse has wheels and there are four cats on top of the books. I should have made this picture larger.

The nice thing about no one showing up for meditation, aside from the opportunity it gave me to wander around taking photographs at 7 in the morning, was that I could take myself to the Trident again for another pot of tea (Dragonwell, this morning. DO NOT steep longer than 1 minute. I really does get bitter!)

Here is the order counter at the Trident.

This is the view from my favorite back corner table. The people I mentioned the other day were there again today but safely hidden behind newspapers when I took this shot.

I talked to a poet who sat next to me this morning. He was proofing a manuscript of poems and I started a conversation with him about it. He was an interesting looking person: shoulder-length wavy hair, crisply-ironed white shirt, neat black suspenders - a very tidy and professional-looking poet!

Later I checked out his blog which is chock-full of poetry, art, and photographs by him and other people. I wasn't expecting to like something called "Poetry Victims" but it turns out he started this blog to share his poetry with his teenage son, his first "poetry victim". I voluntarily became his 418th "victim" because I like his site so much. If you want to check it out go to http://thepoetryvictimsvol5.blogspot.com/ His pen name is ZZBaggins.

More Windy Day: Visitors in the Backyard

Look right in the middle of the picture! Although large, this visitor is very well camoflauged!

This one was right off by back porch. These two are friends. I often see them together in my backyard , resting next door under the bushes and trees, or trotting down the back alley. I recognize them by their antlers.

It's nice to live in a neighborhood shared with wildlife. One day I would like to get a picture of the fox!

To Get Up or Not To Get Up

Some mornings it is a hard decision whether to get up or to go back to sleep for a just a litttttle while longer.

This morning the wind was daunting in its intensity. I still smile when I think of the person who announced a "small dog warning" on the radio one of the first months after I moved to Boulder. I didn't know whether to believe him or not but the picture of small dogs circling their owners heads on the end of a leash is still one that makes me laugh. On a morning such as this one, it is not too hard to believe. The wind comes rushing down the canyon and spreads out across the plains. The sound of wind brushing past each and every naked limb, branch and twig creates a stupendous roaring - the kind that makes you glance warily upward wondering about the strength of the trees.

But it was what I saw when I drew back the curtain beside my bed that propelled me out of it. It was still very dark out but brilliant crimson streaks filled the darkness on the south eastern skyline. It took me seconds to pull on some clothes and grab my camera before I was out into the wind to try and capture a shot. It turned out better than I expected!

I don't seem to have very much control over where the pictures end up yet. The second picture, of the bird feeder swinging in the wind, has landed ABOVE the first one. I will have to figure out if there is a way to drop pictures into the bottom or middle of a post as well as at the top.

The Wind

Tim,
curled in a perfect curve,
raises his head and blinks his eyes
at the sound of the rushing wind,
all about our house...
and then returns to sleep.

Early Morning Adventures (& a story from The Trident)

Unfortunately, no one but me showed up for meditation this morning at the Church. I sat for awhile on a bench in the plaza watching the light gather on the Flatirons. The lights over the doors to the church and the Faith Center eventually blinked off.

Eventually I got up and started walking home. I stopped at the Trident, vastly less crowded at 7:30 in the morning than otherwise, and had a pot of Pu-ehr tea. They had five different kinds to choose from! I had Imperial which turned out to be very strong.

My favorite table in the far back corner was available and I sat myself cross-legged in the corner with my back comfortably supported by the back wall and the wall of the bench and then I just drank my tea and watched the room: ceiling fans gently circling, buses passing by the front window, people chatting or reading the paper while drinking tea and eating pastries. I enjoy the red brick wall on one side and the old wood paneling on the other, the wooden floors, the wood stove (not working.)

Probably the biggest attention catcher was a group of people sharing a booth not too far from me. When I got there the older man and woman were arguing. "But you always do this," the woman said, leaning forward and gesturing in the man's face with her hands. The man had a lap top in front of him and he looked down and typed some before answering. They bickered back and forth and then started laughing. I knew this pattern was long practiced. Then two younger people came in. The younger man slid in next to the older one. He had some tea or coffee and a cup of milk. He pulled a package of cold cereal from his backpack and sprinkled some into the milk which he then ate with a spoon, sprinkling in more cereal as there was more room. The younger woman had some coffee and a newspaper.

The most interesting thing was when the older man said to the younger woman, "Let's talk about Quickbooks." "Absolutely not!" the young woman said angrily. "This is my coffee time and I'm not going to spend it talking about QuickBooks." It was the same bickering tone of voice that the older woman used with him. I suddenly got very interested in the dynamics between these four. The older man said something I couldn't entirely catch but it was something about "since we work together." The younger woman exploded again. "NO!" she said. "This is not work time. If you are going to turn this into work time then I would rather stay in bed an extra half hour than come here!" And then she went on and on about it getting louder the longer she went on. The older woman put her finger to her lips. "Shhhhh! Shhhh! Shhhh!," she said. The thing I found really interesting was that, at first glance, the older man seemed like such a passive and friendly person, quiet with the look of an Italian gentleman about him, but I began to wonder if he wasn't actually the source of all this irritation continually circling around the group. The young man kept laughing and jollying up the tension. The older woman joined the younger. I thought, "They need to find a way to set boundaries. It is amazing how much time they spend either crossing or defending them."

Finally the older man got up to leave. Before he did, he turned to the group and said "I could disappear into 'Thailand. I could go to Costa Rica and you would never find me. I could do that you know." "But you won't," said the older woman flatly. "But I could, " he replied. I shuddered thinking this must go on for hours and hours every single day since they work together! When he was gone the younger man told the younger woman, "You just need to tell him, 'Fine, if we are going to talk about Quickbooks now then I am on the clock. You can pay me for an extra half hour today. Then let him decide if he wants to talk about Quickbooks before work." "No," said the younger woman. "I'm not giving up my coffee time to talk about Quickbooks."

And then I shut my eyes and listened to "everything" for awhile - sitting quietly, cross-legged in my corner, a bother to no one. Tea pots and cups rattled in the washing up area. Footsteps crossed the wooden floor. The fan to the heater turned on and blew hard. The room was filled with the buzz of conversation, not just from the four nearby: someone laughing, the shrill voice of a young child saying "Grampa!" And then music came on and the tender notes of someone playing solo piano drifted over our heads. The pieces were very simple and short, a little dreamy. They reminded me of the Gurdjieff sacred music which I think I will put on after I finish writing this.

Since last Fall, maybe longer, I have been spending most of my time in my house and home office. There have been days and days when I didn't go outside at all. This morning it felt as if I had been released to experience the world again. My good fortune today that no one showed up for meditation! : )