Taking stock of what's around me
For the last few posts I've been taking stock of what's around me ... without adding poetry. What's missing from my accounting are the spiritual factors that in me arouse poetry. So if at times I seem cold in my appraisal of my surroundings, I hasten to make amends by bringing up all the beautiful stuff that makes life sing.
These cabbages, for instance. They're growing in the slowly emerging garden here at Hatch Workshop. It's getting to be springtime, so these and many other plants are shooting up, and that makes a lot of people happy. It takes a lot of weeding, too, which I've been happy to do at this seasonable time of year.
I've been spending lots of time bicycling around the neighborhood of my new, however-temporary home, which came to me at a super discount thanks to a super good human with a strong connecting to Hatch and the neighborhood. The living space offers me easy proximity to Hatch, so I spend a lot more time here tending to the garden. That's spiritual work for me.
I said in my last blog that the neighborhood was lifeless and blighted. I regret those words. With a certain set of blinders on it's possible to see it that way, but I've spent my life trying not to wear blinders, because I consider truth and clarity of perception paramount. So having spewed that utterance, I want to walk it back. Thankfully, to help me do that, I'm looking after a little dog who gets walked at least twice a day, by me. He leads me all over the neighborhood, so I've been discovering much life. There's much beauty in old neihborhoods, and dog walking is a good way to find it.