December 8 Moment of peace. An hour or a day or a week of solitude. What was the quality of your breath? The state of your mind? How did you get there?
There are days when my breath freezes right in front of my face and then smacks me in cold ice crystals. I’m certain this is happening to remind me to be awake and present. There are other days when the sound of the leaves crunching under my feet is so loud I’m quite certain we’re waking the entire city as we march through the streets. Still on other mornings, the pink sky above the mountain range, the crescent moon just there, the branches of the trees in stark silhouette make everything feel as if we’re literally dancing across a painted canvas that was created by some special god in that very moment for us alone.
I run with my dogs every morning at 5:00 a.m. It is our ritual. We will not give it up. No matter what the temperature. They need it as much as I need it. For ninety minutes, this salty city is ours alone to embrace, to love, and to remind us that we are, truly, alive.
