*The Pause

Unforced Movement
Moving without trying to improve anything.

Today’s walk, from trail head one to trail head two, started out pretty typical.

As I approached the starting hill by my place, I chastised myself for not dressing warm enough.

Then I defended myself by saying,

“How would I know it would feel this cold? By the time I warm up, it won’t matter.”

Typical.

Then I got to the top of the hill and saw the porch of the Shadow family empty.

A moment later, it wasn’t.

I thought,

“Of course. Here they are again.”

Then I felt a sudden sharp pain in my toe.

I looked down and saw the smallest white sticker of some kind, strong enough to go through my shoe and sock and poke my toe.

I thought,

“How typical that something so small could cause such immediate pain.”

I pulled it out and moved on.

As I approached the first trail head, it became very atypical.

There was no one crossing the street.

No one parked in the lot.

No one on any trail all the way to the top that I could see.

I figured people were just around corners somewhere.

I walked.

And walked.

No one.

No animals.

No birds.

The only things that seemed alive were the plants and myself.

It was odd.

I made no judgment about whether I liked it or not.

I just kept going.

There was absolutely nothing I could see or hear that I could comment on when I got home.

I began to think that maybe after this book of the First Thirty-Three walks was completed, I just wouldn’t write anymore.

I would continue to walk.

I had already made the decision not to continue the website that holds these writings.

Then, for the first time in a very long time, a feather lay in the center of the path.

All by itself.

For those that do not know, feathers are incredibly profound to me.

When I first heard the story of Hansel and Gretel and how the children got lost trying to follow bread crumbs home because the birds ate them, I asked,

“Why didn’t they follow the feathers instead?”

In my adult life, if I saw a feather by itself, without any rhyme or reason for it to be there, I knew that whatever decision I was thinking about was the correct one.

The correct way home.

Today was no different.

I knew my thoughts about finishing the Thirty-Three walking writings and then moving on were correct for me now.

As I approached the second trail head, it seemed life started up again from its short pause.

Three hikers.

Then two bikers.

Then one lone jogger.

The parking lot had cars pulling in and spaces filling up.

I appreciated the pause.

And went home.