A Moments Rest
Today I spent the afternoon in warm post-summer sun. I walked about the Tinker Nature Center grounds, across the rolling field, where young trees lie here and there with ceremonial plaques at their feet, and toward the Dimeo Labyrinth, one of my favorite haunts in this oddly spectacular tiny city. I stopped by a young poplar. Sat facing the sun and ate my spinach, tomato, and cheese sandwich.
I pictured the clouds passing overhead and momentarily blocking the sun’s rays. When I checked to confirm, they were always smaller than I imagined. Must be a) my sense of awe at the passing shadow of a cloud, or b) the clouds are already getting low, a surefire sign that the winds are coming across the great lake in the north and that winter truly looms.
At the labyrinth, upon entering I always have a sharp sense of my presence and location. But by the fourth turn, I am lost. This despite the fact that I have walked this labyrinth a minimum of eight times. That means it is working. The labyrinth is fulfilling it’s purpose. Furthermore, when reaching the center, I swear I have not set foot into the immediate tracks and curves surrounding me. Efforts to trace the path with my eye fail. As if the labyrinth, or my appreciation of it, forbids its unraveling.
Later, I laid in the full sun on a bench made of plastic made to look like wood in a nature park at the entry to a labyrinth. I read from Ergo by Jakov Lind, which I am enjoying quite a bit. My thumb marks the coincidence of my location in the book and my location on the earth. It reads, “The city is a labyrinth.” The cover of this book is blue, but not as blue as the sky in this picture.
The real world starts in a week, if you believe the hype.
