On Monday, I went for a walk by myself to clear my head, twisting and turning through residential roads. There’s been some drama – and some loss – in my circle of friends and I let it get to me. But walking is meditation. You go and you go on your own two feet. You’re tired but you keep moving. You’re farther away than you ever intended to be, but you have the stamina to press on. To compel yourself forward even when your legs grow tired and the sun glares into your eyes as it sets. Walking is uncomplicated, but not necessarily easy. I think that’s the best way to live.
We just got back from a brief but enjoyable visit to the Virginia Folk Life Apprenticeship Showcase. The program exists to link enthusiastic learners to master craftspeople within Virginia. The showcase featured oyster shuckers; banjo players; stone masons; guitar, autoharp, gun, mask, pie, cheese, stew, and cider makers; and Chikahominy dancers. We didn’t stay for the entire showcase, as things progressed a bit slowly, but we did get to see a few musicians and sample stew, cider, oysters, cheese, and apple pie.
Meteor shower viewing party:
- a farm in the mountainous countryside
- a vast field
- watching dusk turn into night
- a black German Shepherd
- a good, old-fashioned campfire
- salads made from home-grown vegetables
- guitars, a mandolin, and a banjo
- a full view of summer constellations (it’s been too long since I’ve gazed upward)
- ghost stories and history lessons
- lightning bugs
- friendly people
Last night contained all the best parts of living. I couldn’t help but feel at peace listening to the varied strum of five stringed instruments, the sound of humming, of quiet conversation, the panting of a dog. I couldn’t help but feel fine looking up at the vastness of a twinkling night sky.