Held in Reserve

There is about a lake walk in early morning a different pleasure, of solitude and silence, before those with cell phones or active dogs arrive. One runner, one walker, one frog, lots of birds, a few bugs, and me. A time to study light, admire the slowness and brilliance of its arrival.

A day spent afterwards inside is saved in this way by early morning, held in reserve.

The Holy Temple of Solitude

I learned today that a friend is going on retreat to her former Buddhist monastery (which she described as "that space of all quiet") and that a brother has just returned from an American Orthodox community where he enjoys retreat.

Today, thankfully, my walk at Lake Cheston provided true retreat and respite.  Unlike most days, no hikers or bike riders, no dog walkers or cell talkers, no echoing weed whackers, leaf blowers, or airplanes, no birds (even no birds) interrupted my spell of solitude in heavy fog.

Only on my way out did I spy other living creatures: three horses grazing in a friend's field.  None snorted or stamped, each content, too, -- or so it seemed -- to stand in a space of some quiet.