Moving Ahead

 

Like a dog driven by sense of smell exquisite, I am drawn to the inspiration of life with intensity. My kids and family, my patients, my experiences in the woods and mountains as a runner. Probably more so over the last year, I seek the sweet scent of inspiration, having been changed by the process of writing regularly. Not a good speller, but I do enjoy writing.

As I moved on the bike path, I began to pick up a smell of something beautiful.

Crossing under a tunnel, the aroma was stronger still.

And suddenly, it was before me.

A sign. Like, a real-deal sign. Obviously planted there by a talented artist, a do-gooder, or a person looking to make the word a brighter place. Maybe someone fitting all three.

I gave thanks.

“Moving Ahead”

That’s what the sign said, for those who chose to see.

Obviously the work of a skilled artist.

Placed there just for me.

I thought about my bike ride. Movement is indeed sacred, cure for stagnation and all that threatens our vitality.

I thought about the pandemic and all of the moments where we have all wallowed, wondered aloud: “Are we moving at all? And if so, is it backward or ahead?”

Moving Ahead!

I trembled with fear and hope, alchemy instantaneous.

And then I trembled from a machine trembling not too far away.

And smelled the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass.