"Get up and walk!", my spirit yelled at my body.
I force myself out the door. My body just wants to lay down on the conveyor of life and let life stamp me as I pass by. The spirit is having none of it. It pushes my body out the door and down the sidewalk. My legs do an odd jitterbug while my arms and torso hustle toward the trail.
I look to the trail to give me a word for the day. Instead many words fill my head. They swirl and flutter around my mind like a playful breeze. I can not hold on to any of them.
Today, the trail is filled with activity. Joggers, walkers, bicyclists greet me in gentle waves. The lulls between the swells are filled with thoughts, not all of them pleasant. Panic and fear want to crawl into my head and set up camp. I walk faster to escape them. My mind reaches for words to comfort it.
As I round a bend in the trail, I see, under a familiar tree, the man I met the other day. This time he sits cross-legged and just off the trail. The familiar can is in his hand. His face wears the familiar leer. His eyes the familiar stupor. Is this sighting an omen or a sign pointing me to something I need to know?
Quickly, I wrap him in a prayer of comforting hope and hurry on my way. From behind me, I hear the sweet tinkle of a bell and a small pod of bicycling women, all seniors, pass by. Their gentle conversation makes music as it passes. I think about the beauty within the voices of women. For a moment, I feel my separation and isolation keenly. I want to make music with them. Instead, I sink back into the comfort of my own solitude and rest easily. I'm not alone. I have words and the world around me. I walk into the word.
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