Grassy Zen

I've been trying to come up with something about Phil's visit. I know I kind of should, and maybe that's making it harder. The day when I was feeling slightly inspired, my internet connection died, and I couldn't even be bothered starting up the computer. And since then, nothing is coming out

It's been hard times recently, in an emotional sense. I've been feeling down and rather unhappy - with self, not life or things around me. There are things I badly need to work out, but neither writing nor talking about them seems to help. Action is what is needed, I suppose, but I'm in a rut with that too.

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon in the park, alternating between sitting on the grass in the shade and sitting on the grass in the sun, more or less in the same spot where my friend and I had rolled down the grassy hill some weeks ago. I read, wrote in my journal, looked at the scenery, thought, drank water and ate my favourite chocolate wafer bar. And thought, and thought and thought.

Later, I walked around a bit, and my steps took me to a lovely and shady hillside rock garden, complete with a small stream flowing down the rocks and forming waterfalls. There were two red-leafed trees near the top, and the contrast with the greenery around was simply stunning. It made me think of Japan. One almost expected to find a temple somewhere up there.

I stood there for a while, leaning against the iron fence, oblivious to all the comings and goings of families and kids and to all the photo sessions. I saw a bird take a bath in the stream, and I watched the chipmunks as they were running around, chasing each other and picking acorns. A small woodpecker made an appearance. The water made a gentle noise. It was lovely and serene whenever I was there by myself, and that was often, for I stood there for a long time. Eventually I walked way, though my heart ached to stay.