It's late night and all is quiet and still. I am listening to Sigur Rós, enjoying the solitude and feeling like I am finally catching my breath, amazed at how quickly the moments in the day whip by with little time for pause or contemplation.
It's been an abnormally cold spring this year in Vancouver, and even some of the usually brilliant cherry blossoms have been reluctant to rear their head and venture out into the world. Only now are they tentatively making their presence known, reminding all who see them of the ancient rhythms of life that persist despite the odds.
So I find myself slowly coming awake as well, emerging from my prolonged slumber and ready to embrace the world around me. I long to walk around again, breath in the air and feel the movement of life around me. I always feel the most alive when I am wandering aimlessly, rather than being out and about with some destination in mind or task to accomplish.
Near where I work there is a wooded marsh area that has wisely been saved from development and it offers a place of refuge for me in the midst of my day where I can wander, explore and take any semblance of purpose out of my day. I have neglected going there recently, though I think it is time to revisit. It is the physical embodiment of small place where my mind can wander free and unfettered.
Those in between moments can be magical, and when I strip away the pretense of having to accomplish anything and take off for a walk that is often the most productive moment for me. For when I open myself to wonder it occasionally makes it's presence known, and even when the cold persists and reluctance holds me back I can still squint and see signs of life emerging.
(The photo at the top is part of downtown Vancouver and Stanley Park and sunset as seen from the sea bus going towards the north shore, which is of course another good place to be unproductive and soak in some beauty. The Video is by Sigur Rós, who are often the soundtrack to my meanderings)