As long time readers know, I do like my walks. Exercise, schmexercise. It's more for my head and soul.
And it's been a while.
I went down to my trusty Y. We were having good weather, so rather than the labyrinth of the indoor track, I headed down to the pond. From the freeway that goes past it, frankly, it looks like a path around a drainage ditch. But things are not always as they appear from above.
It's a real, actual, pond, fed by a creek. A long trail bends around it, then goes off in different directions, finding itself again down the path. At one end, there's a bench. I sat down on it, took off my headphones and just listened to the birds, to the scribble scrabble of nature. Down in the water, there were little fish. Here, Fishy Fishy Fishy!
While I was sitting there, this big, cool, honeysuckle-scented gust of wind hit me straight in the face.
You can't buy gifts like that. You can only receive them.
I continued my walk, pausing every now and then to look at a flower, or an interesting branch, or a friendly bird. I offered her my iPhone, in case she wanted to check her email. She just looked at me with pity.
When I went to my candidate career assessment last November (one of many expensive requirements of pursuing UU ministry), the person I saw talked to me about where I have been replenished. And she urged me to find a local version of such.
I had plans to go up to this town or down to that park, searching for that place with nature, with water, where I could take my soul for a walk.
What do you know, it was located where I already went. All I had to do was go outside, around a corner, and down a slope.