Finding My Rhythm
From what I can see with the naked eye, the moon has company this morning in the eastern sky. Castor, Pollux and Jupiter are hanging close at hand, with Venus down below watching at a distance. Two stars, two planets. It’s a nice view from the end of the porch. Of course the water tower is there too, just above the tree line. It’s home to the radio that sends me my internet signal.
I’d literally be lost without that signal, and I have no idea how I existed before I was digitally hooked to the rest of the world. I remember the newspaper. That was a nice morning chore. It would be lying on the driveway. I’d read the comics first to start my day with a laugh. Then I’d look at the sports section. The news could always wait. Now it never waits. And whatever brain I have left feels fried. One of these days I may stop all this nonsense and disappear, figuratively, of course.
I brought down the rest of my classical records yesterday. I did have them mixed in with my collection, but I’m giving them back their group, although most of my collection these days feels classical. Old music. Jefferson Airplane. Little Feat. Jesse, the Byrds, Bruce, Cream, Led Zeppelin. I’ve got first records for all. But Bach and the boys are still the first classical music, and I’m giving them another listen. It feels a good way to get back in touch with the deep slow rhythm of the earth beneath my feet and the stars in the sky above.