I walk in a dreamy haze for about a mile before I suddenly reach a level of awareness, I feel my breath moving in and out of my nostrils. I slow down a little, I notice a few drops of rain falling. It seems unavoidable. The endless rain. It seems to miss me as I breathe, as though I am at one with the air. I skirt around the field and go backwards from my usual walk, the dog seems annoyed that I have not yet taken his leash off. I am thinking of crow feathers and I see a finch and a dove taking a bath in the puddles. I haven’t brought my camera, and I vaguely don’t care. I remember to breath again. An older man jogs by me and smiles and says hello. An older woman is throwing corn to the ducks, almost grown babies and a gaggle of molting adults she says to me, I see Momma has some babies still, I smile. A girl runs out of a hidden copse and scares both the dog and I. Somehow my mind is lost until the turn off for the field. The dog too has forgotten and I have to call him back. I go across the field again, and the dog runs away like a rocket, galavanting in the grass. I smile to myself. My feet squish in the soaked ground, the water table resting just below the surface of the grass. I have to pee, too much coffee before I left the house. The dog again perturbed as I replace his leash. I walk home, the rain has held off for once. It is cool and breezy and my heart is light. I think of the word Shunyasa. I am the uncarved block, I am the sawdust on the floor. This must be shunyasa.
