This man down the block, sweeping up leaves under trees in the front yard yard. Who is he? Is he the owner of the property? Is he hired? He is always there, isn't he? Before 8:00 AM. What is his point to start each day with that sidewalk and front walk meticulously free of natural detritus? Is he eradicating the property of all signs of death? Is he the first one to arise every morning, and he has a reason to get outside so that his restlessness not disturb other sleepers inside? Is this physical activity a means to free his mind to contemplate the universe? What does he contemplate? What describes the territories of his consciousness? Is he aware that the Dodgers won last night? That the Syrians are still bleeding to death, with each stroke of his rake? Or is his mind riveted on the prospects of lives under his roof, co-inhabitants within or his children elsewhere?
I recall Saturday mornings decades ago. I would be driving up to the tennis courts about this time. On the corner midway there would be this couple about my (tennis-playing) age sitting on their perfectly manicured lawn, weeding it. What was that about, I would wonder as I sped to my daily competition? Who are these un-adventuresome, under-challenged civilians? Not like the competitive combatants I associate with!
Now that I have come to the years when it's a challenge just getting down to the street level every morning, under-caffeinated, with fully awake Doberwoman -- now I appreciate every activity, every routine undertaken at this hour of the day. These are finite ministrations endowed with infinitive blessings.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Man on the Corner
This man down the block, sweeping up leaves under trees in the front yard yard. Who is he? Is he the owner of the property? Is he hired? He is always there, isn't he? Before 8:00 AM. What is his point to start each day with that sidewalk and front walk meticulously free of natural detritus? Is he eradicating the property of all signs of death? Is he the first one to arise every morning, and he has a reason to get outside so that his restlessness not disturb other sleepers inside? Is this physical activity a means to free his mind to contemplate the universe? What does he contemplate? What describes the territories of his consciousness? Is he aware that the Dodgers won last night? That the Syrians are still bleeding to death, with each stroke of his rake? Or is his mind riveted on the prospects of lives under his roof, co-inhabitants within or his children elsewhere?
I recall Saturday mornings decades ago. I would be driving up to the tennis courts about this time. On the corner midway there would be this couple about my (tennis-playing) age sitting on their perfectly manicured lawn, weeding it. What was that about, I would wonder as I sped to my daily competition? Who are these un-adventuresome, under-challenged civilians? Not like the competitive combatants I associate with!
Now that I have come to the years when it's a challenge just getting down to the street level every morning, under-caffeinated, with fully awake Doberwoman -- now I appreciate every activity, every routine undertaken at this hour of the day. These are finite ministrations endowed with infinitive blessings.
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The more advanced I become in life experience, shall we say, the more I realize it is these little daily routines, awakening us to the world, that matter most of all. Love your last statement.
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