Missing Walking

Dog sitting the lovely and hardly ferocious Miss Curly this week has been a blessing in disguise. Not that I’m not used to sitting in silences after deaths and through processing, but getting up and traveling through traffic each morning has brought a bit of freshness to a life I felt growing stale.

While we have walked each morning and evening, when pauses in rain and heat allow, it’s only been around the neighborhood. I find myself craving a good, long, five or six mile trail walk starting at sunrise. Not quite sure why–Aries in Taurus, perhaps? Or the full grand conjunction in my sign? Impossible to know. I think most of it stems from needing, longing, and wanting to be doing something different with my life (Uranus in Taurus, y’all…) and not knowing exactly what. Usually in those spaces, a walk brings me one step closer to feeling into what’s right.

This energy reminded me of this pandemic poem. Not sure why the date isn’t there, but I feel it was fall of 2020. It’s coming back, for sure. A few more mornings with a furry-tailed friend and I’ll be back blazing a trail on the trail. Til then, namaste.

Pandemic Poem #38