Music of the days of the week

Finally, we are in Indian summer.

The moon tonight was a misty crescent sliver and I listened to the slick whoosh of traffic on a rare evening walk. Then kids and parents cheering, screaming and laughing at school ballfields, the "poom!" of foot hitting soccer ball, owl who-whoing and me enjoying being alone with my thoughts, emptying my brain of the day's tension.

Walking down Mayfair at the end of the walk, dusk descending and the traffic noise gone was as good as taking a very deep breath, closing eyes and just leaning back.

This week, half over, has been a good one for recording sights and sounds.

Monday, I experienced the doctor's office shuffle. I sat, slightly dozing, in the waiting room. Office in a new building with lovely light and view. All patients spoke to the receptionist in quiet tones, she responding cheerfully.

What impressed on my brain was the shuffling kind of sound feet make at the doctor's office. No one moves fast, no one has the expectation of speed or efficiency (tho my doctor's practice is a model for both) and so the rather forlorn attitude of supplicants, hoping for attention sooner rather than later. All conversation, with the exception of the banter among the office staff in their fortress, is muted.

Tuesday, early, I turned off the beeping alarm, pulled on a bathrobe and began the morning's light chores. Pick up paper, turn on coffee, fill pets' dishes. Get ready to walk the greyhounds.

I had just gotten up and was peering outside from the front door to scope out the newspaper's location on the driveway. A house sparrow perched on the railing around the front stoop, chirping away in the grey morning. Twist heard it, too, ears perched forward, nose close to the window.

The little bird chittered away for a few seconds, then flitted off. In the grey morning, it sounded so clear, so sweet.

I like those moments, especially to start the day. They are like anchors. When you feel as if you are flailing in the demands of the moment, it is lovely to have a calming place to check in to.

On the bus

By way of prelude, I am trying to start every morning with a deep, centering breath – not when I wake up, because that's usually "Oh crap, I slept past the alarm" – but when the girls and I finally get out into the park for our morning walk. This time of year, the centering breath is easy because all is fresh and green and birds are singing and the park is, but for the bird song, quiet. So we walk and I listen and breathe and try to prepare myself for the day. Do your best. Be kind and patient. Listen and be thoughtful. And try to keep that cranky, critical, judgmental person that I live with on the sidelines.

It's a good exercise. It doesn't always work fully, but it does have the effect of making me a mindful person for the day. I'm learning to shake off crankiness (mostly, some crankiness is good, and after all part of who I am!) and remember that when irritation creeps in that's a good signal to stop and think.

So, why the prelude?

Took the bus to work today; it leaves the bottom of Mayfair at about 7:50 and gets Downtown 30 minutes later. Plenty of time to ready the paper, watch people or drowse. Usually I start reading the Wall Street Journal but if I haven't had enough sleep, I put my head against the window.

Today I had good coffee and despite sleeping late, wasn't sleepy. I sat in the back of the bus, higher up than the front seats, and watched the traffic inch alongside us on Banksville Road. I saw these drivers (A lot of them in Honda Civics):

One woman steering with her knees and filing her nails.

One man in a crisp white shirt and tan khakis and tie talking on a cellphone.

One man in blue scrubs going over a stapled report.

One woman driving and holding a Starbucks cup talking to her passenger, also holding a Starbucks cup.

One woman eating Yoplait yogurt.

One woman with a cell phone in her lap.

Another man in scrubs, just driving.

All I could see was from shoulders to laps to knees.

So, what I'm getting back to is, my first immediate reaction is: "Why is no one paying attention? Why so many cars with only one person in them? Why aren't you people on the bus (where passengers also are variously occupied, but at least the driver isn't)?

Then, well, it's none of my business. I wish it weren't so, but, not my call.

Is that wimpy? Pragmatic?

Perhaps the better question is why is there  not a better public transportation system in the United States. And what, besides using the one I have, can I do about it.

How's that for 180 degrees from start to finish? 

A last word, I hope to have a new camera soon. This blog seems so incomplete without photographs. There are some especially beautiful flowers, leaves and fungus in the park. Not to mention two beautiful greyhounds.