My online journal sharing interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, bicycling, spirituality and asking deep questions.
The cool morning and overcast skies convinced me to have my latte at the Bean Cycle and sit upstairs where there are fewer customers. Seems everyone else thought the same thing as it quickly got crowded. Anyway, I enjoyed my mocha while I could. Here is an attempt at a haiku.
green willow branches
robed in winters white vestment
now genuflectsms
Last week I visited the Bean Cycle in Old Town. As I’ve mentioned before I don’t go down there much due to the pandemic and my budget can’t afford a mocha latte everyday. But, sometimes you just have to venture out. In the background is Penny, one of the owners and who made my drink. I like to go upstairs where I can find a bit more quiet and a soft cozy chair. She filled it to the brim with her latte art which makes it difficult to carry up stairs without spilling but I’m getting better at it.
A few years ago I found myself with my camera bag over my shoulder, my hand on my doorknob, heading out the door, realizing I had no clue where I was headed. My mind was blank and a recurring experience. I can’t even count how many times I’ve laughed at myself. I’ve wondered if I was crazy. Of course there are times I had a clear indication of where I was heading but not always. Should I be making a therapy appointment?
Over the years I’ve come to the awareness that I am not a homebody but a restless soul of some sort. Home for me is not just a manmade structure with a mortgage payment of 30 years, which is how much of our culture defines home. For me, a home is where we lay our head to sleep, find shelter from harsh weather, a place of safety, and a sanctuary, a place of quiet and solitude. So home can be anywhere and everywhere. Some will disagree.
I feel at home when I’m at one of the local natural areas, camping trip, a road trip, a nearby park, in a bookstore or library, at a coffee shop, in a sacred place, or a bicycle ride, my Adirondack chair on my porch, anywhere and everywhere. I am a restless soul. I suppose this could indicate some psychological problems but we’ll dismiss that for now because I do not want to spend money on therapy sessions.
A closing thought as I want to keep this short. I have daydreamed of traveling most of my life. Play time was always outside, bicycling, sports, fishing, camping. As a young teenager I thought I wanted to be a truck driver. I’ve constantly dreamed of living an RV lifestyle for the past 15 years. Which I write about next. I’m a restless soul.
I can walk into several coffeehouses and be greeted by my first name. That feels good. 🙂 I also know several of them by name. At some locations I can even have the baristas call out and say, ‘The usual, Monte?” These young people and the coffeehouse can easily become an extended family. We will almost always have some sort of conversation whether started by them or me, asking questions such as, “How was your weekend?” or “What have you planned for the day?” I find it comforting when they let me know I’m a person and not just a customer with money in his wallet.
A few facts for those who are interested. I did not know this but the Thinker was initially a figure in a large commission, begun in 1880, for a doorway surround called The Gates of Hell. The sculpture, Auguste Rodin, based this on The Divine Comedy of Dante, and most of the many figures in the work represented the main characters in the epic poem. Some critics believe The Thinker, at the centre of the composition over the doorway was originally intended to depict Dante at the gates of Hell, pondering his great poem.
It is snowing large beautiful snowflakes as I type this post. I like these flakes as they are much needed by us. Again, I frown on the cold that comes along with these systems. Down into the teens tonight. Stay warm.
“You just have to live and life will give you pictures.” Henri Cartier-Bresson
