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Day 89 - finds me renumbering half the posts - because I can't count.
Go ahead, please laugh at me. I laugh at me. I personally find it hilarious that I can't count.
This is why I don't count sheep, I skip over the sheep. I also don't do counting exercises well - I either skip over numbers or over-compensate and count them twice. Same with knitting - I lose count. I knew it would happen eventually - and it did. I counted 75 twice, and 87 twice, apparently. Go me.
Living in the information age can be exhausting. Although, oddly, reassuring at the same time. I think there is word for two opposing things to exist in the same space at the same moment creating a kind of cognitive dissonance. Which pretty much describes this year.
It's a beautiful day, low 70s, crystal blue sky, fluffy white clouds. Made me kind of want to frolic in it. Except for the fact that I live in huge city during a world-wide pandemic. Granted said city is currently at a 1.4 % infection rate and slowly re-opening. But still, there are people wandering about, some taking precautions, some..."we laugh in the face of danger BWWAHAHHA".
It's kind of reassuring to know I'm not by myself in all of this. Although it kind of feels like I am.
This is day 87 of being in a weird sort of limbo land. I was told to self-isolate and work from home on March 17, 2020. I've been doing it ever since.
Now, my State is slowly re-opening, bit by bit. Reminds me a bunch of kids who have been told that it is safe to go back out into the water again, but to take precautions. Some charge into the waves, others tip-toe.
So, I took a five hike around Greenwood Cemetery - and ran into people doing things they shouldn't. I think sometimes people like to push past boundaries, to ignore signs, to just do, screw the consequences...because well they want to.( Read more... )
For the most part, though, I was blissfully alone with the sound of bagpipes following. Intermittent with the tweeting of birds and wordless chatter of people talking of nothing worth noting or remembering. Most human conversation it seems is akin to the tweeting of a bird, meaningless sound muted by the wind.
I hugged a tree again. An ancient oak or maybe maple. I felt its resilience and kindness in the roughness of its bark and steadiness of its trunk. Up up it shot away from me and into the sky, a limitless view of wood, and green and sky, I got half dizzy looking up into it.
And I meandered through the tombstones, seeing new things that were always there, that I hadn't noticed before. Wildflowers, and an ancient Mexican Statue of a Woman offering me a kiss.
And a skinny pyramid amid wildflowers..
( Read more... )
The lady's head offering a kiss sits among the wildflowers as well
( Read more... )
I'm beginning to wonder if I should have led off this post with that?
Ah so many wildflowers..
( Read more... )
On the way home, I got a bit lost in the cemetery again, I always get lost near the Warrior path close to Battle Hill - the paths meander a bit and I lose all sense of direction. But I found my way and found a few interestings graves along it...the ones that moved me I took pictures of...
A small bronze Angel among the leaves of a tree...circa 2016 or thereabouts..
( Read more... )
A man with his guitare strapped over his back and a woman walking up to an above ground tomb on a hill..
( Read more... )
A barely visible steeple being constructed in the distance just visible between the branches of trees.
( Read more... )
An ancient cross surrounded by flowers..
( Read more... )
Or a small child looking down upon grave, pondering the endless unfathomable meaning of life and death, with the sign Life Storage behind her.
( Read more... )
On the way home, swinging around people where needed, I stumble upon flowers planted on sidewalks and in front of houses..
( Read more... )
But mainly along one block as in answer to a silent plea for some sign, any sign at all, that the human race is worth saving that it cares, we care for something other than ourselves... I see, all in a row, a series of brightly painted children's signs hanging from trees. And these are the signs, I will leave you with along with their words...which reasonat still in the echoing silence of my small one bedroom apartment, as the light slowly fades outside my window from twilight to dusk turquoise to navy...the only noise the whirring of an air purifier.
( Read more... )
Its odd the places I find hope. In the words of children. In trees. In flowers. In a cemetery, with the sky brilliant above. Alone but not alone. Apart. Yet connected to the trees, the sky, and the flowers ever blooming. Always blooming. And in a sign hanging in English and Spainish across a tree trunk.
Go ahead, please laugh at me. I laugh at me. I personally find it hilarious that I can't count.
This is why I don't count sheep, I skip over the sheep. I also don't do counting exercises well - I either skip over numbers or over-compensate and count them twice. Same with knitting - I lose count. I knew it would happen eventually - and it did. I counted 75 twice, and 87 twice, apparently. Go me.
Living in the information age can be exhausting. Although, oddly, reassuring at the same time. I think there is word for two opposing things to exist in the same space at the same moment creating a kind of cognitive dissonance. Which pretty much describes this year.
It's a beautiful day, low 70s, crystal blue sky, fluffy white clouds. Made me kind of want to frolic in it. Except for the fact that I live in huge city during a world-wide pandemic. Granted said city is currently at a 1.4 % infection rate and slowly re-opening. But still, there are people wandering about, some taking precautions, some..."we laugh in the face of danger BWWAHAHHA".
It's kind of reassuring to know I'm not by myself in all of this. Although it kind of feels like I am.
This is day 87 of being in a weird sort of limbo land. I was told to self-isolate and work from home on March 17, 2020. I've been doing it ever since.
Now, my State is slowly re-opening, bit by bit. Reminds me a bunch of kids who have been told that it is safe to go back out into the water again, but to take precautions. Some charge into the waves, others tip-toe.
So, I took a five hike around Greenwood Cemetery - and ran into people doing things they shouldn't. I think sometimes people like to push past boundaries, to ignore signs, to just do, screw the consequences...because well they want to.( Read more... )
For the most part, though, I was blissfully alone with the sound of bagpipes following. Intermittent with the tweeting of birds and wordless chatter of people talking of nothing worth noting or remembering. Most human conversation it seems is akin to the tweeting of a bird, meaningless sound muted by the wind.
I hugged a tree again. An ancient oak or maybe maple. I felt its resilience and kindness in the roughness of its bark and steadiness of its trunk. Up up it shot away from me and into the sky, a limitless view of wood, and green and sky, I got half dizzy looking up into it.
And I meandered through the tombstones, seeing new things that were always there, that I hadn't noticed before. Wildflowers, and an ancient Mexican Statue of a Woman offering me a kiss.
And a skinny pyramid amid wildflowers..
( Read more... )
The lady's head offering a kiss sits among the wildflowers as well
( Read more... )
I'm beginning to wonder if I should have led off this post with that?
Ah so many wildflowers..
( Read more... )
On the way home, I got a bit lost in the cemetery again, I always get lost near the Warrior path close to Battle Hill - the paths meander a bit and I lose all sense of direction. But I found my way and found a few interestings graves along it...the ones that moved me I took pictures of...
A small bronze Angel among the leaves of a tree...circa 2016 or thereabouts..
( Read more... )
A man with his guitare strapped over his back and a woman walking up to an above ground tomb on a hill..
( Read more... )
A barely visible steeple being constructed in the distance just visible between the branches of trees.
( Read more... )
An ancient cross surrounded by flowers..
( Read more... )
Or a small child looking down upon grave, pondering the endless unfathomable meaning of life and death, with the sign Life Storage behind her.
( Read more... )
On the way home, swinging around people where needed, I stumble upon flowers planted on sidewalks and in front of houses..
( Read more... )
But mainly along one block as in answer to a silent plea for some sign, any sign at all, that the human race is worth saving that it cares, we care for something other than ourselves... I see, all in a row, a series of brightly painted children's signs hanging from trees. And these are the signs, I will leave you with along with their words...which reasonat still in the echoing silence of my small one bedroom apartment, as the light slowly fades outside my window from twilight to dusk turquoise to navy...the only noise the whirring of an air purifier.
( Read more... )
Its odd the places I find hope. In the words of children. In trees. In flowers. In a cemetery, with the sky brilliant above. Alone but not alone. Apart. Yet connected to the trees, the sky, and the flowers ever blooming. Always blooming. And in a sign hanging in English and Spainish across a tree trunk.