A Lenten Fog

Today brought a lovely fog (along with a month’s worth of rain). I like fog. It silhouettes the bare trees gorgeously. It lies caressingly on the skin. It envelopes one as one walks, offering an hospitably protective privacy and a stillness that is unaffected by motion. Fog absorbs sound as much as cold and snow make it crackle. Fog is a gift of spring that is usually out-heralded by warmth and flowers. It is an essential consequence of the acquaintance of warming air and a lingering coldness in the ground. Continue Reading

Walking in Tempo with the Spirit

Walking in tempo with the Spirit:  this is a refrain with me at least since my college years, when I felt after playing the harpsichord one day that the music even afterwards was communicating between my feet and the ground as I walked back across campus.  Perhaps this memory is why the image of “walking” rather than dancing occurs to me; although it could also be because walking suggests a journey, whereas dancing suggests sheer sabbath delight in the present moment (interestingly, the way Ric describes feeling on the bicycle, for though he’s moving in a direction, it’s for the sensation of riding, not to get to a destination). Continue Reading

Bicycling with Benedict

Spring has paid us a delicious couple of visits over the past month. We all know that it’s not the real thing; neither do we care. We all seem to share a collective willingness to accept the gift and get out in it, most of us with some physical activity. I have taken Spring’s visits as opportunities to take to the road on my bike. Continue Reading