POST # 517
One of the wiser decisions that I have made in recent times, is to spend much less time on the internet. As a result of this change, I have more hours each day to pursue other activities. There is no shortage of things to keep me amused, and I find that I am able to appreciate even more, the beauty that I am surrounded by each and every day. All one has to do is just pay attention.
Paying attention can be more important at certain times, and I was given a quick reminder of that fact during this past week. That's where the good luck story comes into play.
It was Sunday, September 4th, my last full day in Nanaimo for the foreseeable future. The weather was picture perfect, so naturally I was going to spend as much of it outdoors as was possible. And with my new plan of less internet, I had lots of time to enjoy outside. I was near the marina, on the upper level above the shops and parking lot, and it was time to head down to the water. I had already descended the first of two sets of concrete stairs, and was about to start down the second set. A momentary lapse of concentration on my part, in other words, not being in the moment, and I tripped, and somehow managed to arrest what would have been a very nasty tumble down the steep, hard staircase. You would think that after falling down a mountain side more than a decade ago, that I would have a high level of concentration when walking down stairs. Right then and there, I told myself that from now on, I will ALWAYS grab onto the handrail. This was the good luck part of the story.
Now to the bad luck part. Safely down at the waterfront, it was time to take a stroll along the docks to check out the boats, and just enjoy being close to the water. At one point I stopped for a moment to remove my hat, in order to scratch my head. While performing this action, I used my right hand which at the time held my PLB. PLB is the acronym that describes a yellow lacrosse ball that I happened to come across on one of my daily walks around Pleasantville New York, almost three and a half years ago. It stands for Pleasantville Lacrosse Ball, as well as Paul's Little Ball, and it has been my constant companion since then. I've lost track of the number of conversations that I have struck up with total strangers when I pass them, bouncing my ball. I just happen to have one photo of it that I took last year in Ontario.
As I removed my hat, the ball slipped from my grasp, bounced once on the dock, and as it was on its upward return, it hit my thigh, and then splashed into the water. It all happened very fast, and I was left to watch it slowly drop out of sight. Perhaps a large fish can now have some fun with it, because I certainly won't be doing so any longer. A certain word came out of my mouth to express my annoyance and that was that.
I was standing near where the two docks join together, and that is now where the PLB will spend the rest of its time. As I continued on my walk back home, I couldn't help but feel annoyed with myself, and then I saw a homeless person camped on the side of the road. My problems are insignificant.
Continuing my stroll home, I walked through the local mall, and as I exited the building, who should I meet but none other than Socrates. I thought that he had been dead for about 2400 years, but I was mistaken. He's just been reincarnated and he now looks like this.
He's a fine looking specimen these days.
My time in Nanaimo was coming to a close, but I did manage to wake up very early one morning and take this sequence of photos of the sunrise. This is part of what I now do with all of my extra non internet time.
In addition to spectacular sunrises, I had to finally say so long to my four legged friends, Eunice the bonehead and Apollo the furball.
But why are you leaving Paul? We were having such a good time.
I had waited until Monday, September 5th to head back across the strait to the mainland, because Monday to Thursday, seniors travel for free on BC Ferries. I displayed my driver's licence to the attendant, and she said, "I'm sorry sir, but there is no discount on a public holiday." Oh well.
And now on to the "skunk" park part of today's story. My original plan was to spend one night stealth camping somewhere in the woods on Bowen Island, but after I arrived on the mainland, I changed my mind and decided to camp at a place I've camped before, in Vancouver's West End. The park is near the beach, and its proper name is Alexandra Park on Beach Avenue. During my first stay some years ago, I was entertained by a trio of skunks roaming around at night. Thankfully I was sleeping on a bench, so they left me alone. Monday, they provided a repeat performance, and yet again, I was happy to be elevated above the ground. By doing this stealth camping every now and again, it helps me to appreciate just how fortunate I am to have a roof over my head for the most part. Time to count one's blessings yet again. And speaking of blessings, earlier in the day, just as the ferry was docking at Horseshoe Bay, I began to chat with a friendly, happy gentleman on the deck. He had a fake plastic left arm, and so I asked him what happened. Fifty years ago in the winter of 1972, when he was working for CN Rail, he slipped and fell down beside the train, and the train ran over his arm. He didn't seem bothered by it at all.
To wind up today's rather lengthy post, let me leave the readers with a photo I took just this morning of Oliver the furball who lives with my niece Nicole and her husband Dan in Yaletown. They needed a sitter, and I happened to have an opening in my schedule so here I am. I'm quite sure that Oliver and I will have a wonderful week together.
"Who the hell are you?"
No doubt there will be more to report about this furball next week.
grateful for every breath,
Paul
No comments:
Post a Comment