Tuesday, May 17 6:30-7:30 pm
I rode my bike to work. I worked. I biked home. I had about 30 minutes at home, then Aurora came and we dressed in yellow. It was chilly and windy, but the sun was bright. We wore our vests (Aurora’s green and mine blue), our gloves, our helmets, and we rode over to Humbolt Park. We wore black sneakers. Found a spot by the lagoon. Settled in. Right away I noticed a man in a yellow coat, fishing across the way. I watched him and breathed into Auroras belly. She was giggling and making sweet cooing sounds and the soccer game behind me played by 4-7 year olds. A man coached the kids in Spanish, calling out excitedly. My legs ached. My hips were tight. I got irritated. I felt Auroras arms around me and breathed in again. Ow. Ow. Ow. I focused on the fisherman. Pulled some breath in through my feet, felt the way my bones could be weightless for a moment. I made subtle shifts in my feet and softened my knees. I must have been lost in these thoughts, there he was now right in front of us, casting his line. Sweet silent cast, so elegant. He caught a fish immediately. Very small. Threw it back. He caught another, then another. He expertly removed them from the hook, with a swift upward motion.
The wind whipped our sign down. We debated picking it up, and as we looked at it, unmoving, a couple came and propped it up. They chatted and smiled and took our photo. Aurora commented that they were so SHINY.
Our faces reflect their shinnyness here. And for these moments, every week, we can notice these small things. We can breathe into our bodies. We can invite positive interaction. We can laugh and smile at strangers, and it makes sense. We can reflect shinnyness. Reflect. Love.