This morning I decided to walk to our local produce market. The market is less than a mile away and it is generally a pleasant walk to get there. On today's excursion, I needed to take a couple of unexpected turns because of street repair work, but that was of little concern. Well, okay, except when one driver ran a red light because of his confusion about not being able to turn right. I do not think he ever saw me in the crosswalk. Fortunately, I saw him, and was able to smile about it.
People in this part of San Leandro have planted many flowers over the years, and as I walked towards home, I thought about the phrase, "spirit of place". Spirit of place takes in much: history, architecture, plant and animal life, and probably much more. It is something not quite definable, but can very much be felt. Our spirit of place is our fertile soil and the backdrop of the Dunsmuir Ridge. We are also close to Lake Chabot, and while we can't see it from our neighborhood, I think that body of water influences the area as well. Unfortunately, spirit of place is something that is too often ignored and bulldozed. We should cherish it more. It strengthens our humanness, and, unless a place feels negative, it can give us a sense of gratitude and peace.
Anyway, on the way home, I took a slightly different route, and came across a rose bush with large white blossoms. I paused to take a picture, and then realized there was not only the scent of rose in the air, but also of orange blossoms. An orange tree was right behind me. Standing there in the pleasantly warm sunlight, I could pause a moment and simply give thanks for it all.
May we all find something to celebrate right where we are. Let us befriend the spirit of the earth. She is doing a beautiful job.
"This moment this love comes to rest in me,
many beings in one being.
In one wheat grain a thousand sheaf stacks.
Inside the needle's eye, a turning night of stars."
Rumi the Book of Love, translated by Coleman Barks
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