Today, to get some exercise, I walked up and down my driveway until I’d done 1,000 steps. It was an arbitrary number, and not any great distance, but it felt good to reach it. Then I wandered around the yard, picking up fallen branches and sticks and flinging them into the woods. There were a lot of them, so it was a decent amount of exercise.
A long time ago, back when I lived in Connecticut, I once visited the Beardsley Zoo in Bridgeport. It was the saddest zoo I’d ever been to, and the saddest thing I saw there was a tiger pacing the perimeter of its habitat. It looked so miserable, trapped. I wonder if anyone were to see me walking around my yard, would they think the same thing about me? Am I an animal pacing the perimeter of my habitat?
Our stream was running strong today from all the rain we’ve gotten lately. I stopped to listen to it for a few minutes, because burbling water is such a calming sound. (I don’t know if it’s fair to call it a “stream,” since it’s really just water flowing from a drainage pipe, but the water doesn’t know that. The water thinks it’s a stream, so Imma call it a stream). Fiddleheads are starting to sprout along the sides of the driveway. There aren’t many sweet white violets blooming yet, but there were enough in the back yard that I could smell them every time I reached down to pick up a stick.
I paused a couple of times today to think positive thoughts and to be grateful, but I wasn’t really feeling it. I wonder, though, does it still count for something? Does the intent carry any weight with the Powers That Be?