Wednesday, January 5, 2022

The word ‘wander’ has often carried a negative connotation for me, as if it implies disorganization and aimlessness, but in these senior years now, I sort of see life itself as a free and cheerful wanderer, strolling along and letting me be its lucky companion. Now, at 80, the minutes of most days seem to amble along with nimbleness, as if they’re having fun in finding what lies around the next bend. Sometimes my days dawdle, pausing often to study a small miracle or listen to sounds made of mysteries (which all sounds seem to be nowadays), and some days the hours saunter along with arms swinging with satisfaction. It’s fun, now, to watch thoughts meander along beside me as we ramble together through the mysterious minutes and hours and days. What I call ‘my’ thoughts – which are actually not  mine, but the universe’s – are born to roam, and I love looking at the seeming craziness of their paths, trying to simply observe and appreciate them rather than be bothered by their rootless roving.  

         Today, life, including thoughts and feelings, will continue freewheeling along, and I look forward to spryly ‘stretching my legs’ beside it. 

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