Ms. Wonder came downstairs for coffee after her early morning workout, as is her usual weekday practice. She gave me a look as she moved gracefully toward the aroma of espresso. I've seen that look before. It told me that she was aware of my need for human interaction but it would have to wait until she was caffeinated enough to endure it.
"Why should I look happy?" I said. "It's early and I haven't yet walked under the pines of Brunswick."
"I know," she said, "but you'll be there very soon and that's something to look forward to, right?"
"Wonder," I said, "weekday mornings, I Walk. It's capitalized because it's a ritual. It's not a spiritual practice because my spirit deflated a long time ago and it lies in a heap on the floor of a closet at the back of my mind. But let's don't go there."
"Please," she said, and when she saw the look on my map in response to her 'please', she tried to correct her course, "Yes, let's don't," she said.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that," I said.
It was a lie, of course. You know as much as I, that the little whangee in my brain is bent and I often ramble on about anything and nothing. I'm sure this better half of mine considers it to be, less than the idle wind, which she respects not, to quote the Bard if it was the Bard.
You probably share the feeling with her. Perfectly understandable, of course, and let me tell you that I appreciate you taking the time to visit this blog more than you can possibly imagine. I realize that you expect to hear a lot of rambling bilge and yet you visit anyway. I probably don't tell you often enough that I appreciate you being here with me.
"Around 9:00 am each morning," I realized that I'd gotten the advantage in the conversation and decided to capitalize on it, "I head to Brunswick Forest for my walk in the pines."
"Shinrin-yoku," she said and I was profoundly impressed!
"Shinrin-yoku," she said and I was profoundly impressed!
"Poopsie!" I said, reverting to her pet name because I was so taken aback that she remembered the Japanese meditation technique that I teach in my classes at Straw Valley.
"Poopsie, I'm profoundly impressed! Is that the right word? I mean the adverb, 'profoundly.' Does it mean deeply, greatly impressed because that's what I am? And possibly a little bit flattered that you remembered."
"Well," she said and I knew right away, don't ask me how I knew, it's a gift possibly or a curse probably, but I knew that she was going to respond in the negative, and I felt that in the present situation, I sorely needed fewer and better negatives.
"Well," she said just as I mentioned above, "impressed is used as a present participle and that means..."
"Wup," I said, "thank you Poopsie for offering me the very best participle, whatever that is, in answer to my question but we're getting dangerously close to sentence conjugation, something that I got my fill of in Mr. Kier's advanced English class back in the day. What I should have said was, 'very impressed.'
She didn't say anything but performed a cute little shrug and a moue. Look it up. Those who know me best are aware that when faced with silence the Genome begins repeating whatever it is that Princess Amy is saying in his head. I did so now.
"My morning outing is more than a stroll, of course. Anytime I find myself underneath a leafy canopy, I qigong, and I qigong like the dickens if you want my opinion."
"I know," she said. "You do Fierce Qigong, the style you developed at the Qigong Wellness studio in Raleigh."
"Wonder!" I said, and I'm sure that I approached hypo-mania when I said, "I'm profoundly impressed!"
"Again?" she said.
I nodded vigorously and said, "I sometimes refer to my early morning practice as 'lost in let's remember' because I'm usually thinking about the good ole days--the way things used to be.
Actually, it isn't so much the way things used to be as the people that used to be. I miss so many of the people I knew here on the planet who now sleep with the stars--and when I say people, I mean dogs and cats too."
She chose not to reply once more and sipped her cappuccino instead. I interpreted this to mean that she'd granted me clearance for take0ff.
"When the weather is clement my regalia includes my kung fu fighting cane, Qigong Wellness t-shirt, my taiji competition shoes, and a golf glove to keep the cane from slipping out of my hand and beaning someone who is in the park simply to air out the dog."
"Mmmm," she said.
"Although I pretend to have some other purpose for being there, I'm actually there to spend a few minutes in meditation and to watch the dogs that are out for airing with their humans. The dogs always make me smile; the humans rarely."
"Are you happy when you're there, surrounded by the natural world and meditating on dogs?'
"I do not meditate on dogs, Poopsie. Meditation is not contemplation or rumination. Meditation is about nothing. But, the answer to your question is, Yes, watching the dogs cheers me up."
"So you're happy there?" she said.
"That's a difficult question to answer," I said.
"No, it isn't," she said. "You're either happy or you're not."
I mused for a moment while contemplating her question. I was aware of a feeling of bright contentment as I thought about those dogs.
"Poopsie," I said. "My friend Doyle was there this morning walking his two dogs, Jake and Lily. Lily found a stick somewhere on their outing and she carried it in her mouth as she moved with a step that was high, wide, and handsome if you get my meaning."
I paused once more in deep contemplation. It wasn't a planned pause. I suppose it's best described as being 'lost in let's remember.'
"Yes?" she said bringing me back to the surface.
"Lily looked so happy carrying that stick around. Poopsie, I don't think I've ever been that happy in my life."
"Maybe we should strive to be more like dogs," she said.
"Yes," I said, "I think we probably should. We could do much worse than being like dogs. And cats, of course. We mustn't forget the cats. Most of what I know I've learned from dogs and cats."
"Dogs and cats to be sure," she said.