Friday After Work Walkabout


Only after walking along the two lane streets in a sari and sandals, sharing the road with exhaust-fume spewing buses, three-wheelers, motorcycles, mopeds, bicycles, cows, goats, dogs, street vendors, and pedestrians amidst dust, puddles, sewage, potholes, cowpats, dog shit, goat turds, and piles of organic and non-biodegradable trash, could one understand how a campaign to end the practice of littering would link it to evil. Thanks to my fellow traveler Eric for pointing out this sign.
Surely that’s what life was all about? Opening doors and peering through them–perhaps even finding the rose gardens there… (Colin Dexter, The Dead of Jericho)
The good murder mysteries — the ones that teach much about human nature and do not dwell graphically on gore and violence — can teach us much about the power of sadhana (yoga practice). The best mysteries are ones in which the protagonist teaches us by his or her investigation into the mystery that with careful, steady discipline, the application of well-developed technique and study, consistent effort, and an openness to trust intuition tempered by discrimination, we can reveal to ourselves the truth of the matter. The truth revealed is not just the identity, means, and motive of the murderer (mystery solved), but the knowledge of the extraordinariness of human being in all of its manifestations, both good and evil.
On my way to and from work, I watched the buds and blooms–some brown, some bravely hanging on, some withering around the edges and starting to wilt; the cherries–mostly in bud or just starting to open–that haven’t fully blasted yet, will do so by the end of the cold period following the storm.
I’ve seen years when the cherry blossoms were torn from the trees at their lushest by a violent storm coming through with a cold front and and years when a spring snow added to the blossoms and years when the blossoms were well before or after the parade. I haven’t seen a year in my over 30 years here, where the blossoms just died from a weirdly early false spring followed by a winter storm with bitter cold. I am sure it is just coincidence and not correlation that this sorry withering of the loveliest part of Washington spring happened this at this particular time.
In the meantime, I am certain that I will need to go out first thing in the morning to shovel and then will need to turn on my computer and go to work. I’m sure I will find the snow (when I am not thinking about the impact on flowering and fruiting perennials), even the shoveling, invigorating and somewhat enjoyable. To provide nourishment that takes into account the extra exercise and how the shoveling time will impact my usual morning routine, tonight after washing up, I put up overnight apple oatmeal. Into the slow cooker went a couple of diced apples, a handful of raisins, steel cut oats, cinnamon, a bit of butter, and a dash of salt. When I wake up, It will smell something like apple crisp, and it will be just the thing to fuel snow shoveling. With the extra, I will make muffins for later in the week.