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notes while walking

More and more my mind stay right here, this breath, this step, this drop of sweat, this bird ahead, this rosehip, that corn flower. Monkey mind settles naturally as I walk. One long walking meditation. Yes, the mind does roam a bit, but along narrow frequencies: to the beloved, briefly, for comfort and reassurance, to family, in passing, with concern for their well-being. Back to Canada, rarely: all that is out of reach, thus not worth a second thought.

Reminded of a line by Almaas (see yesterday’s source) about wishful thinking, about hope: “The orientation on hope — hoping for something in the future — disconnects you from who you really are” (p. 158).

Looking at one more ancient ruin today (a castle built in 1351, sacked 13 times over the ensuing 290 years by Swedish, French, Italian, Dutch, and Spanish troops) made me ponder the “good old days.” Bunch of thieves, robbers, murderers! In the last village, for instance, much fuss is made of Countess Loretta (1400-1430), who displayed ingenuity not associated with females of the day. After the death of first her husband and then her father-in-law, she was vulnerable: without a protecting man, yet responsible for a castle, peasants, lands, finances, enemies at the gate, and an underaged son (the future lord). So what did she do?  Engaging the help of three knights, she kidnapped the regional duke-bishop as he sailed up the river, imprisoned him  for nine month, and didn’t let him go until the King of Bohemia mediated a hefty ransom, a Pope’s pardon, and guarantees of military protection. Today she’d be called a terrorist accused of murder, kidnap, extortion, and unlawful confinement.

Tonight the first rain in days, the air refreshed: aaaaahhh. I’ll stop writing and take myself for a stroll in this mediaeval city, with churches and castle in yellow flood lights. Have to get out of this smoke-filled internet cafe. May you be happy.

images top: those are not my legs! bottom: ruin near Trarbach/Mosel.

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