From the blog www.blissanddrumming.com, read by Clementine.

***

Then, Sunday, late morning. Stepping into the bright San Francisco street with the old man and the pug, heading to our favorite diner in Fisherman’s Wharf. Suddenly, I remembered my Wednesday night phone call, and I stepped out of the river rushing above me into quiet. My steps fell on bright white sidewalk, the cream and blue buildings reflected a shimmer in the air, and the blue sky dressed up in a mosaic of white cloud lace.

It was almost a physical sensation, this stepping out of the river of thought, as if was stepping out of water perfectly dry. For most of the walk, thoughts came in and blew through as I walked right in the center of the morning, and I couldn’t stop smiling. The poor old man.