To be on a quest is nothing more or less than to become an asker of questions. - Sam Keen
Running next to the Willamette river, I feel like a jungle of animals on a quest for a turtle's stability. My mind's dragon breathes fire.
I like to get to that turtle state rolling through the fuzz of concerns and thoughts that leap and tangle like monkeys in my morning's brain.
Bicyclists zoom me without warning; cutting it a bit too close. Gliding with the breeze, I center on what my body feels like and move past the annoyance. Rumi says to sweep out the window and down the slant of the roof words and what they try to say. I push notions from my zoo of thought: existence, struggle, rude people.
Words transition to play, process, fun.
The climb of 200 feet at Skinner's Butte approaches. It usually caps the morning's adventure and sparks an enthusiastic finish. Today it demands determination of mind, body and spirit to ascend the path. Shoe by shoe I gain feet ahead.
Green encourages and soothes. When the steps appear, I dig for energy and ascend them at a sprint.
Turning to admire how far I have arrived, a second wind kicks in.
A repeat adds confidence.
The trail levels for a respite before the last climb.
At the turn in one of the switchbacks, applause of flowers encourages my efforts. The path steepens for a surge. I'm reminded how petals show their stamina in the heat and rain. Tree limbs reveal growth and productivity.
Nature shouts its balance. A surprise pops around each bend in the trail.
My song continues with a do diddle dooah.
A stumble shows a caterpillar I might have overlooked. It scooshes to avoid a squish.
Refreshment arrives at the top. My quest for productivity and balance completes.
In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary.