Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Could you be Loved?

October 12th & a fall run of ~8 miles. the run was good, solid, but i cannot stop thinking of my meal at the Laughing Seed CafĂ© in Asheville. phenomenal. they grow many of their resources on a three acre plot just a long run’s distance from the downtown restaurant, and (get this): the chef maintains the crops and the kitchen, pushing the menu towards seasonal alterations. excellent food from good people; what more could you want?

October 14th exertion and immersion was the mantra du jour. . . . first quarter moon. 8 miles at northeast library to coast (ran some sand) around the loop and back (via summer rest trail).  an interesting part was running on a side road when a road biker with red highlights on his leather coat passed me with great speed, and when I looked over, there was naught but a fall darkened branch with red leaves hanging. . . . superb “creative visualization.”
October 15th   i added a mile to y’days route by parking down by lumina station, by NoFo/ Grand Union Pub. this route allows you to avoid crossing military cutoff or eastwood, and thus saves much anxiety and unnecessary danger. the run was good and autumn, and I thought about being a good person, how to better myself and my empathy and compassion. how to expand my loving-kindness? the ways are far too numerous to explore in language here, but to act from deeper within, where things are naturally kind and generous and open.

the jangle of language, the jarring of body, clash of body and language-mind pushing pace across thrashing umber leaves. . . the pillage of squirrels, their scurry across sun-streaks, citrus on payne’s gray, black branches waving into cold wind. landscapes clear and energized, lucid, become turner-swirled watercolors and the fragrance of autumn fills lungs and mind, body, the sweet tumble of oak leaves and pine needles, the vast quiet stretches of beach and sand and still morning where vacationers packed, paid meters, left. old creaking bass boat putts easy out intracoastal waterway beneath bridge and my body sways on swift pace to soft ungrimacing breath and the miles roll peaceful and mind becomes earth, quiet, humble and working like water.

tuesday 1h09pm October 19th Could you be Loved?

I was greeted by a synchronicity today, following my meditation during the run the other day of how to better myself as a human being, personally and spiritually. the radio was on as I drove to town for an errand and the run, and 98.7 surf had a “way-back track” from 1980, which turned out to be marley’s “could you be loved?” so I appreciated the vibe marley set, and wore my ipod for motivation’s sake as the first miles kicked off.
a little over nine miles fit the bill for a run on this perfect day: temps are upper 70’s with little humidity, clean air with good sunlight and a quiet route from brooklyn arts district through CFCC campus to the boardwalk and confederate park and the greenfield lake trail and back up the nesbitt court area (fortunately they are demolishing the blighted buildings) to complete the loop back by the rear entrance of acme arts. . . during the run, my ipod, on shuffle mode, caught marley’s “could you be loved?” not just once, but twice. . . . twice? so I just continued enjoying the kicks though my left hamstring was tight and thus working my right quads awkwardly. . . I pushed the few hills in downtown and crossed third and stretched out a few minutes and drove home. it was there I searched through cds, seeking out some dead somewhere, and instead found marley’s uprising, which unwittingly contained “could you be loved?” strange indeed.
sometimes the universe elucidates the spiritual values and goals one should reach towards. if only I could find a rainbow gathering somewhere in the region—I could handle a weekend of drumming and chanting and living simple for a few days.

Monday, October 11, 2010


october the first 2010. 10h53 am and a friday following a deluge of rain all week—historic amounts of rain in Wilmington. the gray clouds and paled landscape slow time, allowing memories to sift through busy body-shuffles of daily demands. autumn and rain push a personal history through a heavy body.

today opened with an eight miler through ogden park, jumping the many puddles along the way, watching the leaf blowers work the tennis courts dry, dogs splashing alongside owners, each very pleased to be outside. the run was cool, the first time I’ve felt cool in many months, and the wind pushed chills outta arms and ears. then a warm shower followed by some dead and Columbian coffee and now for some drawing.

October third.

I work at a restaurant downtown, and this past weekend was Riverfest, which brings the full spectrum of Wilmington area folks out and about. Sunday evening brought a guest carrying a small dog, a pomeranian or chihuahua, blanketed up to its neck through our front door. "May I help you?" I asked. "Yes. I am going upstairs to the sofa lounge and this dog is a disability assistance dog and she has papers," she said. "May I see the papers?" I asked, finding the whole thing strange and questionable and being responsible, in part, for upholding certain laws inside of the restaurant. "I can show you the papers, and I am not trying to be difficult, but I am a lawyer and you should know that you can be sued for requesting the papers, according to the American Disability Act. All I have to do is say this is an assistance dog and that will satisfy it legally."

She showed me the papers.

So her threat/ caustic reproach got me thinking. . . Most assistance dogs have a tag and a visible vest or harness indicating their status. So my question is: If someone states their dog is a disability assistance dog, and there is no evidence beyond that verbal declaration, do I not have the right to request further documentation? As I work in a public space I should know these things. and I looked it up to discover she is absolutely right. In fact, one does not even require carrying the documentation for the dog. the animal is differentiated from being a “pet” by the designation “assistance animal.” the harnesses are not required, nor can one legally deny service to the individual and their companion animal unless the dog barks or threatens another guest. that is not applicable, however, to the individual; they have the full right to bark and bite at all around.


Sunday, I awoke at 6am for a cup of coffee before a local race. the run the river 8k seemed just the type of organized run I wanted, a nice road race covering the three bridges and some of downtown along the cape fear. so I ate a clifbar and a banana and headed out with shoes in hand so I wouldn’t wake ky and kas. when I got there, the sun was still pushing through clouds, and the temperature was a crisp 60 degrees. nice. I held the thirty dollar fee in hand, but ran a few warm up laps to see what my body was feeling. chatter from other runners told me that they were not running the bridges, that the course had been changed. a bit of a bummer. . . so the course was my old stomping grounds, my old daily run. with that knowledge i just couldn’t justify a thirty dollar timing chip wrapped around my laces. so to the car I went, stashing my cash beneath the seat with my keys and cell phone—7h31am. locked the door—and a ten mile run took me down the river, through recently flooded front street, across and around Greenfield park, back up fifth then fourth then third then water street and back around front street and the riverfest setup crowds. the final two miles were rainy, and the rain was cold and increasing in intensity until I finished shirtless and cold with my nipples raw and unamused. I fit right in with the riverfest workers smoking while flipping sausages and pushing tarps across trailers to push out the rain.

October fifth. Agony of da’ feet

a nine mile run today, tuesday, with the feet burning on soles and arches, toes feeling stretched out in faster pacing. . . . but a good run, quiet and thoughtful, passing the colors starting to fall from the dogwoods, maples, and the assorted oaks. . . one image made a strong impression: was a leaf, faded and degraded and twisted, mirroring the fading boneless bird decaying beside. . . how they referenced each other, mirrored in a gruesome way, as a strange visual poem. brown of torn tired leaf, brown of bone-webbed bird.

to run in autumn; wild geese push necks southward.

October the seventh, thursday. eight miles, a route not done in a while, from the northeast library to the coast, to shell isle and back up through summer rest trail towards the completion of the oblong loop.

Fernando Castro Pacheco amazing Mexican art.

October 11 2010.
mountain excursion passing through Asheboro and the state zoo and then black mountain/ montreat area. . . a superb night & meal at the laughing seed in asheville put the family’s mind at ease for a few days. running trails throughout montreat, new parks and accordians in Asheville, and the downtown rowdies of Asheboro punctuated the weekend, making for a some terrific scenery on all potential interpretations. more to come. . . .